“Aelira, what happened?” Fyn brought his horse in line with Veylar. “Come on, Lioran. Stay with us.”
“I didn’t mean to…” I struggled to breathe through my words.
“You can do this.” Fyn’s eyes widened. “We’re almost there.”
My focus settled on the leaves swaying in the wind—a welcome distraction to forget the pain that gripped my muscles.
The once green horizon turned brown, and the splendor of the woods vanished. Rotting decay sifted up into my nostrils aswe passed piles of soot and ash. Orange mushrooms grew on the tree trunks, the only sign of life, or color.
Veylar veered around fallen tree trunks and his ears flickered.
A hollow cry rose from the land. It was desperate. The wind howled with it. For a moment, it sounded as if it whispered my name.
But that was impossible.
Fyn pushed forward without response.
“What caused this?” I gripped Lioran closer to me.
“The blight,” Fyn said. “You’ve never seen it before…”
Barren fields lined the edge of the village. Broken down equipment lay behind. Discarded and forgotten.
“No...” I never saw it with my own eyes. Only heard the stories that were told. “Bailoc believes it’s a curse from the fae.”
“Why would we curse our own lands?” Fyn snapped.
“You wouldn’t,” I murmured. “How does the village find food to eat?”
“Lioran sends resources in from the Heart and other communities contribute what they can, too. It will never be enough to sustain.”
“They will have to leave.”
“It’s the only home they’ve ever known. Different villages can take them in, but we can’t guarantee they’ll stay together.” Fyn’s voice grew quieter. “There isn’t enough room anywhere.”
We stopped at the entrance of the village. Homes had crumbled. Their remains were held up by beams of rotten wood. “So you bide the time with resources.”
A mother and her two children, all too thin and pallid, walked quietly in the village. There was no laughter between them.
Fyn reached for Lioran, bracing him. “Aelira, try to climbdown.” My aching legs trembled as I jumped down from Veylar, his body swayed with the force of mine as I fell back into him. “This is going to hurt, but we need to get you out of the saddle.” Fyn lowered Lioran out of the saddle.
Lioran roared.
“The prince is injured?” A fae man ran to greet us, his body was emaciated.
“Yes, we seek your healer and whatever resources you have to give,” Fyn pleaded.
“You know we have very little, but we will do what we can for our prince.” He sprinted across the barren village. Fyn lowered Lioran to sit beside me. His body crashed into mine. I pulled him upright even as my muscles screamed in protest.
A slender fae woman approached, deep circles set under her eyes. “I am Neva, the healer of Othryl.”
Her hands hovered over Lioran as she shook her head.
She pried my fingers from him without another word and then lifted his dressing.
My eyes squeezed shut as she assessed it.
“Shipments from Evyn were delayed. Nothing I have is strong enough.” She inspected the fresh blood that colored my skin.
