Yeun lowered his head, as if the weight of the past pressed physically on his shoulders. The blue glow of his wing flickered like a dying candle. Aignan let out a small cry, finally understanding.
“You knew him before, didn’t you?” I asked. “When he was still human.”
Yeun knelt beside me, his fingers brushing the edges of the book. He traced the patterns of the golden tree.
“I knew my lord when he was just a child,” he whispered. “And I… I was a young fairy, barely more than a fledgling. He spent all his days in the forest, under that tree. He would talk endlessly to me about human customs. You see, we fairies were forbidden to leave the forest, forbidden to reveal ourselves to humans, for fear they would tear off our wings to grind them into powder, string them into jewels, or exploit their magic for their own gain.”
His trembling hands stilled on the page. “But Lord Arawn… He was not like that. He loved us, not for what we could give him, but for what we were. I still see him climbing that tree to mend our broken nests, or tending our wounds with scraps of cloth he stole from his mother’s sewing basket.”
Yeun removed his hat, revealing butterfly-shaped eyes wet with a sorrow no century could ease. “But his parents… The orchard began to wither, poisoned by the darkness of their hearts. The family of confectioners meant to guard the forest and its magic… sickened it with their blackened souls. Humansand their greed choke the life out of everything they touch. They poisoned us.”
I gently closed my fingers around his. Aignan, after a brief hesitation, laid his paw on our joined hands.
“This forest was my home,” Yeun went on, wing quivering like a cricket. “I should have perished with my kin, died with honor as they did. But I survived. Thanks to Master. I stayed by his side always, convinced that through our friendship, we could reconcile our peoples. He taught me to act like a human. So much so that I even developed a third form: my human form. But my father, chief of the fairies, called it a disgrace and banished me. Because of my exile, I was spared the corruption.”
His shoulders sagged. “I hid with him. From his parents, from my own people. But then…” He swallowed, his gaze lost to the void. “The orchard was so diseased that the apples turned a deadly violet, and my kin’s wings fell to the ground like dead leaves. My family’s bones littered the earth.”
“Yeun…” My voice broke, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Even Aignan lowered his ears, his tail curling around himself.
“And after that, I suppose you’ve seen the rest.”
“Yes. But you weren’t in Arawn’s memory,” I pointed out.
“That’s because he forgot me,” he answered, gripping the book so tightly its edges dug into his palm. “When he made his pact with Zelda, a part of his humanity was sacrificed. So he could be reborn of dark magic, and accept his new Cursed heart. The purest and most precious part of him. But Arawn… He had no such thing. He had never known love. The only thing he had was…”
“You,” I whispered. “The only thing he cherished as a human was your friendship.”
The only shred of love he had was ripped away. Yeun had saved Arawn’s heart—at the cost of being erased from his memory.
He shivered, as though gripped by a chill from the past. “The more his other heart grew, the easier it became for him to reject his humanity. Without love, his human heart contained nothing but pain. The sucremort fused with him, finding the perfect host. But I remained,” he said in a wavering voice, his eyes rimmed with tears. “I saw… horrors. The sucremort torments him without end.”
Yeun wiped away a tear with one swift motion. “He created his first Spirit. I don’t know how, but he did. Then more appeared. All born from the lake. So I waited, guarding the orchard, because I knew he would return. It took centuries, but his humanity wasn’t dead. Fractured, yes. But alive.”
I had no words, because no words would ever be enough. I knew loss, and loneliness, and hope, but while I had waited only a handful of years for Nyla’s return, Yeun had waited centuries for Arawn to come back.
He closed the book and cleared his throat. “My hypothesis, Miss Lempicka, is that each time he transformed fully into that monstrous creature, a new Spirit was born. As if his human heart still struggled, fragmenting to shield itself with its magic. You were right in saying they were his inner demons. But I don’t believe he knows. He thinks they serve him.”
“To be forgotten by everyone… It’s so sad,” Aignan murmured, eyes fixed on the floor.
A bitter smile touched Yeun’s lips. “But I remember, and that is enough. I will protect him, as he once protected me.” He lifted his gaze to me, a mute sorrow heavy in his eyes. “That boy made every wrong choice he could. But since your arrival, I have seen something reborn. A glimmer of what my best friend once was.”
“But didn’t I destroy his Spirits?” I stammered, my voice trembling. “When I touched them, they vanished, as if?—”
“On the contrary,” Yeun interrupted, straightening with the grace only fairies possess. “I think you returned fragments ofhimself to him. You are healing him. Even if I don’t know how. The Spirits came to you, and through you, they changed.”
“The Spirits mirror Arawn. If I touched them all, then maybe I could?—”
“You must not,” Yeun cut in sharply. “Don’t forget they wounded you. And it would not be enough. You must focus. You have only ten days left to break your curse.”
I nodded. “I will. But I want to save him too, Yeun. He isn’t fully lost to the sucremort yet.”
“I know,” he breathed with a weary smile. “But Sir would not bear it if harm came to you. It would destroy him, and what remains of good in him.”
“Yeun, I still have a question,” I said, rubbing my fingers together. “A confectioner’s heart cannot be corrupted by a curse unless there is a flaw. If he has two hearts… is he both confectioner and sorcerer? How is that possible?”
“We are what we choose to be, beyond blood and heritage. Arawn rejected his past to become a sorcerer. Yet, the original tree chose him nonetheless. Perhaps it saw him as the one destined to heal it and eradicate the sucremort. A strong heart, a confectioner’s heart, may be the only thing capable of resisting such a curse, after all.” He replaced his hat and tipped it toward me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have the winter ceremony to prepare. With some luck, the tree will awaken. Hope, you see, is hard to kill.”
A mischievous glint crossed his eyes as he turned toward the door.“Oh, and one last thing… Among fairies, it is customary to give a token of affection, whether of love or another bond. Alas, I must find something suitable for that infernal ostrich…” With a sidelong glance, he pointed at what I kept tucked safely in my apron pocket: the charm I had never found the right moment to give Arawn. “I thought you might appreciate the advice.”
