Page 21

JORGE

Nine years old

The scent of damp hay and something fouler—rot or mildew, perhaps—burned my nostrils as I clung on to the back of the rickety wooden carriage. The uneven wheels jostled by every uneven groove of the cobbled road as the gredane picked its way down the path.

“Move, you lazy beast,” Uncle Maris snapped.

I jolted, assuming he was talking to me. But there was nothing for me to do in the wagon but hold on. It was the gredane that had caught his ire.

Gredanes were relics on the planet of Lunaterra.

Much like pure-blooded humans. The animal's sheer size was a reminder of the majestic beasts humans had brought to Lunaterra when they'd arrived thousands of years ago.

Its coat was a checkered pattern of black and white blocks splashed across its massive body.

The pattern was beautiful, even in the animal's patchy and worn state.

A large black spot encircled one of its droopy eyes, giving it a look of perpetual sadness.

Its joints clicked, and a tremble ran through its legs as it pulled the rickety cart forward.

Uncle Maris yanked the reins. The gredane stumbled. It howled miserably at the jerk of its master.

I hated that sound. It always made my stomach twist. My fingers curled into the edge of the splintered cart as we came to a stop.

The strap at Uncle’s waist came loose, dangling like a coiled snake as he climbed down from the driver’s seat. He stomped toward the gredane, muttering curses under his breath.

Uncle Maris raised the whip high. The gredane’s ears flattened as its large, watery eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the strike. It wasn’t the blow itself that broke the beast. It was the waiting that did it. The strike was always quick. The waiting stretched the attack out.

The whip rose in the air like a bowstring being pulled taut. My eyes darted to the worn and cracked metal shoe encasing the gredane's left paw.

“Wait.” The word tumbled out before I could stop it.

Uncle froze, the whip hanging in the air like a dark omen. He turned slowly, his sharp, beady eyes fixing on me with a look that made my blood run cold. “What did you just say, boy?”

“Something’s wrong—down there. The shoe. It’s loose. I—I can fix it. If it’s loose, I can fix it.”

There was silence except for the faint rustle of wind through the trees.

The anticipation grew thick as I waited for the verdict.

The bow stretched tauter and tauter. The string would snap once the blow fell across my cheek.

Or the gredane's. Right now, the animal and I were both experiencing the pain of the wait, and I just wanted it to end.

Uncle Maris dropped the whip to his side, but the relief I felt was short-lived. He yanked the reins with one hand, jerking the gredane’s head violently to the side. The beast stumbled, letting out a miserable howl.

"Fix it quick. We can't be late for their royal flowernesses."

Uncle ambled to a watering hole off the main road. He unlaced his britches and relieved himself on the bark of a tree, not in the stream. This was fairy land, a place where flowers and trees were sentient. The blades of grass bristled at the disrespect.

I scooted to the edge of the cart, trying to drop myself slowly to the ground. The moment I touched the earth, my feet were kicked out from beneath me. With my legs already weak, I couldn't mount a quick defense. Not that my gangly arms and legs were any defense to begin with.

Olric had his father's whip in his hand. He lashed out before I could scramble back. I had no time to anticipate the strike. The sting made me gasp from the pain. It was sharp and hot, a burning coal against my skin.

“Think you’re smarter than my Da, you crackling?”

He struck again. This time, the whip caught my arm. The brittle bones inside gave a cracking protest, like dry twigs snapping underfoot.

“You don’t tell my Da how to handle his own beast, you little twiglet.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I didn't dare let any fall. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to keep from crying out. It was like a game. If I didn’t cry, maybe he’d stop sooner.

It worked. Olric dropped the strap. It fell into Dain's hand.

Dain was the taller of the two. Uncle Maris had married a orc. His spawn had gotten her strength and nothing else. Dain understood the suffering of anticipation, having met his father's blows on a regular basis. He made me wait, feinting a few times before delivering a series of blows.

Olric sneered, his boot slamming into my ribs. I curled up on the ground, clutching my stomach as Dain laughed.

“Look at him squirm. He's like a bug, he is.” Dain aimed another kick at my gut.

I was sure I’d pass out. But then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

The two wandered off, laughing as they headed over to the water's edge with their father.

Uncle Maris unwrapped a lunch of stale bread and bruised fruit.

I didn't bother to join them. I knew I'd get nothing but scraps. And that's if I was lucky.

Something warm and wet brushed my face. I flinched, expecting more pain. When I opened my eyes, the gredane stood over me. Its huge, droopy ears twitched. Its tongue darted out to lick the side of my face.

Wincing, I tried to sit up. My ribs screamed in protest, but I managed to pat the beast’s nose. “You're welcome. But you have to pick up the pace now.”

The gredane huffed softly, a sound almost like a sigh, as it licked at my wounds.

I let it offer me comfort, since nothing could heal my weak human frame.

Where the gredane had lost its strength due to its age, I was a young creature born fragile, my bones as brittle as dry twigs.

They broke easily with even the smallest strain, and though they healed quickly thanks to the magic that was in the very atmosphere of the planet, they always grew back weaker, thinner, more breakable than before.

I walked with a limp from an injury that had never properly mended when I was five solars old.

My thin arms struggled to carry even a sack of grain.

No amount of rest or care could make me strong.

Not as if Uncle Maris or his sons, whose blows always felt like thunder striking stone, ever gave me space to rest.

By the time the mother sun had set and the daughter sun had led the thirteen moons on their nightly chase across the skies, we arrived at our destination.

The fairy manor rose like a dream from the heart of the lush garden.

No metal marred its beauty—only wood, glass, and vines woven into intricate patterns blending seamlessly with the surrounding flora.

Pale blue luminara blossoms unfurled their petals in the cool night air, each one glowing faintly like tiny stars scattered across the ground.

Climbing vines of moonsilk wove themselves along the wooden beams of the manor, their silvery blooms spilling down like waterfalls of light.

Nearby, beds of whispering lilies swayed gently, as if moved by an unseen breeze, their petals tinged with iridescent hues that shifted whenever they caught the light.

The air was heavy with the intoxicating perfume of etherrose, a flower with deep violet petals and faintly glowing veins of gold running through them.

Beneath the canopy of flowering trees, clusters of dewshade orchids nestled in the shadows, their pale green blossoms dripping with nectar that glittered like tiny jewels.

Tree branches arched protectively over the manor, the rustle of their leaves a melodic whispering of secrets to the wind.

Moonweaver oaks stood sentinel around the grounds, their bark smooth and white as marble.

Lantern-like fruits hung from their branches, their soft golden glow casting dappled patterns on the pathways below.

The village as well as the manor were all long asleep.

My uncle and cousins headed inside to the servants’ quarters and were greeted by a haggard-looking fae who looked down his long nose at them.

Many faekind considered themselves the most evolved lifeforms on a planet with two suns made for beings who took sustenance from light and thrived in fertile grounds.

They tolerated shifters, looked down their noses at orcs, and gave no attention whatsoever to humans.

Without being told to, I took the gredane to the stables.

She moved slowly, her massive frame trembling with each step, her hooves clanging hollowly against the cobbled path.

The shoes she wore were old and heavy, their crude edges biting into the soft flesh just above her hoofed paw despite the work I'd just done to them to get us here.

My fingers brushed the rough metal. An idea sparked in my mind—a better shoe, one that could take the burden off her legs.

Something lighter, curved to fit perfectly, and lined with a soft material that wouldn’t leave bruises.

The thought stayed with me as I found a second blanket, one not too marred by dirt and feces.

Dragging it into the stall beside hers, I bedded down for the night, my head full of designs and possibilities.

I had to admit the stable was nicer than the last place I'd slept in.

There was hay beneath my back instead of stone.

My ribs still ached from the beating, and every movement sent a sharp reminder of my cousins' attentions.

The hay scratched against my back as I tried to get comfortable, the earthy smell of it mingling with the sharp tang of manure and the faint sweetness of the flowers outside.

The night was calm now, the kind of calm that made the world seem like it had forgotten you entirely.

I don’t know how long I lay there, staring at the wooden beams above me, before I heard it—the faint creak of the stable door opening again.

I bolted upright, ignoring the way my ribs screamed at the movement. I expected Olric or Dain. They sometimes liked a late night kick to my shins before they could settle down and go to sleep. But it wasn't either of my cousins.

A figure slipped inside, cloaked in shadow except for the faint glow of a lantern held high in one hand. The light threw her face into soft relief—a small, heart-shaped face, partially hidden by the hood of a dark cloak.

I froze, unsure whether to speak or stay silent.

Her movements were light and deliberate, like she didn’t want to wake the sleeping world.

At first, I thought she might be a servant from the manor.

Maybe she’d come to check on the other animals.

Maybe Uncle had sent her to make sure I hadn’t run off.

As she moved closer, the lantern light revealed something that made my breath catch.

Her skin—it wasn’t pale or sun-bronzed like mine and the other human farmers or workers I’d seen on our journey into the kingdom of Evergrove.

It wasn’t the fertile brown of my father’s people, either.

No, her skin shimmered faintly in the light, soft and smooth as polished stone but unmistakably lavender.

A pale, delicate purple like the petals of the whispering lilies in the manor gardens.

She set the lantern down on a barrel near the door and reached up to undo the clasp of her cloak. The fabric fell away, and I saw them—her wings.

They unfurled, shimmering with an iridescent glow that caught every sliver of moonlight sneaking through the wooden slats of the stable. They looked delicate, like spun glass. The way they moved—strong and purposeful—made me think they were anything but fragile.

She pulled a crystal tablet from her satchel, its glassy surface smooth and faintly glowing with inner light.

With a flick of her fingers, the glow intensified, and images sprang to life, casting the stable in flickering shades of gold and blue.

The sights and sounds of the Convergence Games filled the air—roaring crowds, clashing weapons, and the rhythmic pounding of drums that set the pace for the combatants.

Her eyes lit up as the fighters appeared on the crystal's surface.

It was the Sun and Moon Gauntlet, where competitors faced a series of elemental and magical barriers before facing each other in hand-to-hand combat.

The fairy stepped back, holding a—was that a steak knife?

—in one hand, and began mimicking the movements of the fighters.

She swung an imaginary sword, ducked low, and lunged forward with a sharp thrust.

I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped me.

She froze, her head snapping toward me. Her wide eyes found mine. Neither of us moved.

The crystal flickered while the announcer's voice continued narrating the battle happening live in the capital of Solmane. The fairy girl aimed her dull blade at my gut.

In this anticipation, I felt no fear. For the first time in my short life, I felt excitement.

"Who are you?" she demanded.