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1
Before the spell was broken
Lucian Uraiahs, god of day and light, wasn’t sure what to make of the woman singing as she traipsed through the snowy forest. The racing of his heart offered him a possibility he didn’t want to acknowledge. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her. That had been in the meeting house in the tiny village of Sevens where she’d been sitting in a booth working with a needle and thread, smiling contentedly as she did. This was the first time he’d seen her in the woods, however, and he’d been there for some time.
Her sweet voice—a touch high with a gentle swell into nice round notes—carried a melody as she sang, “My love, my love, where have you gone?”The quiet woods with its snow falling in big, bright flakes made her song ethereal.
Evergreen trees flourished despite the cold, their branches heavy with snow, waiting like the naked deciduous trees for the return of warmth. Standing deep in the shadows, Luc would have been cold had it not been for his godlight, though observing the woman warmed him further, a fact he decided he would explain away after this awful business was over.
Snowflakes floated around the woman, muting sound as she pulled an empty wagon through the drift. There wasn’t a path, but she made one as she walked.
“Where have you gone?” she continued to sing.
She was beautiful. It was hard not to notice the vibrancy in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. Though not dressed in much more than rags, her boots were too big for her feet, and her coat was several sizes too large. She fought with the sleeves as she pulled the wagon through a drift. In the meeting house, she’d been wearing a lovely blue dress, and though she’d been thin, he wouldn’t have guessed then at what appeared to be her impoverished circumstances. He’d only had eyes for her ready smile.
That smile had made him curious.
She smiled now with more abandon than in the meeting house as she sang, “I’m waiting here for you.”
He couldn’t fathom why she seemed so happy.
Since he’d completed his official Roam years before his ascension and continued to Roam well beyond it, he’d been across the Vasmost, traversing space and time as though searching for experiences to inform his own happiness. He’d been everywhere. He’d met others—happy, sad, in the throes of great joy, or the depths of dire grief—but he couldn’t remember a time where he’d seen a smile like hers that gathered his breath and held it captive against his will. Nothing in his life had offered him the warmth and contentment of that smile—contentment that seemed misplaced. And that, he realized, was what gave him pause. The emotion that informed that smile was something he’d never felt. Content.
Hidden by the deep shadows of the winter forest, Luc watched and listened, guiding her with his power toward the meadow, toward the key, toward the trap. While he hadn’t expressly created the ploy for her—it was set by a spell on a key—he was lying in wait for an unsuspecting person moving though this wood to succumb to the illusion. Who knew how much longer his brother Nixus would be trapped in that forsaken spell? The spell that was Luc’s fault and the reason he was in these woods at all, luring an unsuspecting woman toward the enchantment with his godlight.
He had to make this right for Nix. Whatever it took.
Only the more time Luc spent watching this woman—whether it had been at that horrible meeting house where he’d learned she and the other women were forced to wait for prospective husbands, or in the immediate now, moving ever closer to the magical snare—he was unable to calm the way his heart spoke truth inside him. Ignoring its thumping persuasion, he continued leading her, dropping dollops of golden light along her path, telling his heart to bugger off with its selfish lies. He needed a final key keeper, and she was the first to come along. Who knew how long it would take to find another?
She sang another line— “I dream, I dream, and sing this song. I’ll prove my heart is true–” —still smiling in spite of the snow and cold, in spite of her hunger, in spite of her empty wagon.
Luc didn’t understand. Adding another drop of golden light, then another, he led her toward the meadow where he knew the key had appeared after the last key keeper’s failure. He justified that luring her was an opportunity for her to wish for riches. It was clear she needed it.
But his reasoning drifted the longer he watched her. Though Luc wasn’t a content man, the more he listened to her song, the more content he became. His heart quickened, pushing emotions through his chest that tugged his heart, tightening it in his chest—and to his surprise, enjoyment suddenly spiked his pulse with a possibility he didn’t want to examine too closely.
Except, this was the final key keeper. This onehadto break the spell when all the others had failed. Time to fix his mistake was running out. Understanding the parameters of the spell, coupled with the fact every keeper selected and lured by his goddess-cousin Poe had failed, meant this keeper was the difference between life and death for Nix and himself. If this last one failed…
He shook his head.
It wouldn’t come to that.
Luc knew Nix. Luc understood the spell. He’d lure the right one where Poe had failed.
Though Luc accepted he was selfish—he’d done very little in his life that hadn’t immediately impacted his needs and wants—he knew that he couldn’t be this time. He tried to suppress the awareness that he'd failed epically at his first selfless decision by trapping his brother in that stupid spell. Obviously, he wasn’t very good at it. Yet here he was trying to make another one, and his selfish heart was tempted away from his goal by a smile and a song. He knew the next key keeper—the right one—could not only save Nixus from the spell, but also Luc from having to sacrifice himself should it come to that.
Maybe this choice wasn’t completely selfless.
“Oh Love, oh Love, come home to me. My arms are open wide,” the woman sang, throwing her arms out to her sides. The sled’s lead wrapped around her hips as she spun. Stuck by both the wagon’s rope and the deep snow, she giggled, then hummed as she unwound herself.
Luc grinned, his heart jumping in his chest. He ignored it.
“My Love, my Love,” she sang, quieter now as she tugged on the wagon once more, melancholy filling the notes. “The fire I keep is burning bright, burning to keep me alive.”
Luc’s smile faded as he finally acknowledged the truth. This woman wouldn’t break the spell. She wasn’t the one. She was a dreamer, and from everything he’d learned about the spell, it would crush her.
Unable to overlook the selfish relief winding its way through him, he withdrew his golden power, collapsing the glamor he’d created to entice her toward the key.
The woman’s humming stopped, her head tilting as she turned, looking around, clearly aware that something had changed. Her eyes scanned the shadows, and he suppressed the desire to reveal himself. Perhaps another selfless act when selfishly he was interested in meeting her to understand where she found the joy to sing as she did. But he doused his godlight—even though he was already hidden in a glamor within the shadows—and waited in the stillness.
