Page 7

Chapter Three

T he walk back to Primrose Cottage made her feel a little better at first, the woods in between her cottage and the village were always beautiful this time of the year.

Back when the people of Glenn still believed in fairies, they used to say that Glenn was one of the places from where you could cross to Faery.

That the winged denizens of that world would visit from time to time, and leave the villagers with gifts such as fire that would last all winter, or a well that would not run out of water for years.

Some however, believed that the Woods were home to the spirits instead, the Old Ones, who were thought to be the souls of great heroes and heroines of the past who had performed great feats and become something more.

Something magical. While the Fae were known for their spells, the Old Ones dealt with a more primitive kind of magic, one that was part of their very soul.

It was not as strong as the spells that the faeries used, but it was also more natural and easier for them to wield.

Some of the books she had read from her family’s collection stated the Old Ones were elemental beings, and that the strongest of them possessed unique gifts.

Serena had often found herself wishing she was more like them; the maidens who could charm anyone with the bat of an eyelash, or the young men who wielded axes that were ten feet tall.

The spirits were also said to be able to perform blessings, or even curses. Humans from nearby villages would bring young children to the woods and ask the Old Ones to bless them with health, or luck, or happiness.

“I would take that power,” she said out loud, “Maybe that’ll give me some luck with the villagers.”

Whatever the true story behind these woods was, they were one of her favorite places in the world; they had been since the first time her mother had walked her through them ten years ago.

However this was not a popular opinion; the villagers hated the Woods.

It seemed that when their belief in magic had died, so had the Woods’ willingness to make itself hospitable to them.

She had heard them complaining about growling noises, rocky and winding paths impossible to navigate.

None of these things seemed to plague her however, and she knew that further cemented the villagers’ wariness of her .

To her, the Woods were a haven, and a place of beauty.

They thrummed with power and sometimes she heard notes of a song she could have sworn she had heard before but could never place.

There had been instances when she would get distracted and lose her way completely, only for the wind to nudge her onto a path that turned out to be a shortcut home.

A couple of times she had come across a woodland critter who looked at her as if it would speak to her any minute, before bounding off.

She had even heard what seemed like a tinkling laugh only to find nobody there.

None of it bothered her however, as it was good magic, pure magic.

She did not know how, but she could tell.

By some miracle the sky was still clear, and it made her miss Aunt Maeve even more.

The two of them would often go on walks when the weather cleared up.

Mostly due to Serena dragging her aunt out of the cottage, demanding they needed fresh air.

Aunt Maeve protested every time, but would always follow her regardless, and then proceed to pelt her with stories regarding the Enchanted Woods, as they once had been called.

She sighed and leaned against an oak tree that stood nearby.

She was tired, so tired of being alone. As a child she had felt like a rudderless ship floating in the immense ocean, surrounded by people who were all too different from her.

And then she had moved in with her aunt, and for two wonderful years it had seemed like she was no longer going through life blind.

Until her aunt had fallen mysteriously ill, and no one was able to figure out what was wrong.

The villagers’ cheery voices still echoed in her head, almost taunting in their happiness. Would it have been easier to simply be someone who was part of the crowd? Was it her curse to always want, was she being punished for always dreaming, and always always needing more.

She could still remember her interaction with her mother before she had moved in with her aunt, the tears and the recriminations.

At a certain point she had stopped responding to her mother’s hostile tearful questions and had just hung her head in angry silence, tears dripping down from her face.

Once Mama had tired of yelling, she had just coldly stated that Serena could do whatever she wanted, and she was washing her hands of her altogether.

A tiny part of her that still hungered for her mother’s approval had made her want to apologize, to take it all back, to hold her mother’s hands and promise that she would give up on her stupid ideas and dreams, and to be the best daughter she could be.

To maybe try one last time to make her understand.

But she had known that that was a lost cause.

Her mother would never understand, none of them would.

They would always view her as a fragile flower they must nurture until she got married off and was someone else’s problem.

She had had to leave; she had to get out if she was to ever find out who she was and how she could achieve her dreams. To see if her happily ever after existed, if there was a way to live the fairytale life that she had always read about in her books, or if that truly was a foolish dream like her mother had already said.

At first it had gone swimmingly when she had first arrived at her aunt’s.

She had freedom, someone who understood her and something akin to a purpose.

Unfortunately, she had realized very quickly that while her aunt might sympathize with her dreams, they did not have the same ones.

Aunt Maeve was content with studying the family texts, corresponding with other scholarly folk, and taking the occasional trip to the city.

For Aunt Maeve, living through her writings and research was enough.

But Serena continued to hunger for more, and a few months after she had moved into Primrose Cottage she came across a text talking about the hidden entryways to Faery.

So began her wish to go out and find one of these portals.

Her first try had been in the woods where they lived, but she was able to find nothing that gave her any clue on what she was looking for.

She did not give up though, determined to find something that would give her any information on what she sought.

But for that she needed her aunt’s help.

Both to find more texts that would give her more information, and maybe some insight of her own.

However, a small childlike part of her dreaded that her aunt would be hurt, and think that Serena had only come to live here to ask her for other favors.

She was also afraid Aunt Maeve would burst her bubble by telling her that her goals were impossible.

So, she waited for the right time to broach the subject, but the weeks turned into months and then a year, each time a new excuse popping up into her mind.

And then Aunt Maeve was gone and she came to the devastating conclusion that maybe fairytale quests and true love were not meant for her, and maybe her lot in life was to safeguard their existence like all those in her family before her. Like Aunt Maeve would have wanted her to do.

But the traitorous part of her heart that she still could not silence still whispered to her tales of magic and glory, of finding the love of her life and becoming someone who would be remembered for years and maybe centuries to come.

She had even gone so far as to imagine how it would feel like to be the one that brought back magic and faith in fairytales again, and in one embarrassingly vivid daydream she imagined kissing a handsome faery prince who was so taken by her bravery and wit, that he fell in love with at first sight.

She slumped down, until she was sitting on the roots of the tree, her vision blurring with the unshed tears in her eyes as she contemplated what to do next.

She did love Primrose Cottage, and she loved taking care of the books, and being a healer.

But the village would never accept her, and she could not go back to Leis.

And she was lonely.

So, so lonely.

A couple of tears fell to the ground, as she whispered a wish. A wish with all her hopes, and all her dreams. With all the vestiges of her faith in magic and goodness.

“Please,” she said to the stars, “If you’re listening to me, send me a sign. Or anything really, anything that will make me feel less like I’m drowning alone.”

There was a rustle nearby and she looked up, heart in her throat. Could the stars have granted her wish already?

A rabbit emerged out of the bushes, pausing to look at her in confusion.

“Are you here for me, little rabbit?” she whispered, “Are you my sign?”

The rabbit stared back for a second and then bounded off in the opposite direction.

She sighed and immediately felt stupid. For all her declarations that she would give up on dreaming silly dreams, she still wished upon a star and expected results.

The stars had better things to do than listen to a lone girl in Glenn.

Brushing off her muddy skirts, she stood, bag in hand.

The Woods might not have let her down yet, but that was no reason to test out how long it would take for something to happen.

She had just been about to set off on her usual path when a glow caught her eye. A mysterious orb of light peeked out from behind the oak tree, illuminating the area around her.

It went against common sense to go nearer.

While she had grown up in the city where magic was not something in which most people believed, her aunt had hammered a healthy respect into her for everything supernatural, insisting that all stories exist for a reason.

Aunt Maeve would have taken one look at that ball of light, swung around, and marched right back into her cottage, making sure to bolt every door and window.

And yet, Serena had never been an obedient student, and her penchant for curiosity was insatiable. There was no evil aura coming from the orb; it radiated a comforting light that soothed her senses.

Which was why she cautiously made her way toward the glowing specter. Almost as if it had been waiting for her, it began to slowly float away.

“Hang on,” she cried, hurrying after it, not caring that she was speaking to a floating light.

She followed it into a patch of bluebells, and as she gained on it, she heard a buzzing… No, it was a cacophony of whispers, all saying her name. There was something almost familiar—comforting really—about the sound.

“Hello there,” she whispered, “Are you here for me, perhaps?”

The ball seemed to almost hum with agreement, and she let out a breathy laugh.

“I do wish you would tell me what you need from me,” she murmured, “I feel like quite an idiot holding a conversation with a magic glowing orb.”

She could have sworn she felt what seemed like a wave of amusement from it. Right before disaster struck.

So preoccupied was she with trying to figure out what the light was, she completely missed the trap in front of her, and she was hoisted into the air, a net encircling her.

She tried in vain to push down her skirts and squealed in frustration as she realized it would be nigh impossible for her to break out on her own.

The light winked out, leaving only the brightness of a twilight sky.

“Bollocks!” She tugged and managed to free a bit of her hair that had been snarled in the net.

Was she going to be trapped in here until someone came to rescue her? And who even would come? She didn’t exactly get a lot of visitors in her neck of the woods.

“Star’s fucking balls,” she groaned, glad her mother was not around to hear her swearing like a sailor.

Someone coughed.

“Need some help?” asked a deep voice, which sounded like it was trying to hide its amusement.

Serena strained to see who was standing beneath her, but her position made it impossible for her to see anything clearly. “Well yes, I would appreciate some assistance. As you can see, I’m, er…a little tied up right now.”

She cringed inwardly at her own unintentional joke and prayed the stranger would not rub it in.

“Are you in the habit of getting caught in hunting traps? Or is this in my honor?”

Her face felt like it would burst into flames. “You know, sir, a gentleman would help me get down first before asking all these questions.”

“Ah but that would imply that I am a gentleman.”

He was enjoying her predicament, and it made her want to punch him in the face. Astonishing how annoying an unseen person could be.

“You know what,” she snapped, “I think I’m quite capable of getting out myself, so you can be on your way.”

She suddenly remembered the little blade she carried around to cut her herbs. Unfortunately, her position made it incredibly hard to get it out easily.

“Fuck!” she swore once more .

“You know,” came the voice again, “you have quite the vocabulary for a young lady.”

She said a decidedly un ladylike word in response, and then her fingers finally closed around what she was looking for.

“Aha! Stand back, please,” she said archly. “I’m going to get myself out of this mess.”

“I don’t think you—”

Snip. Snip. Snip.

As soon as she finished making the necessary cuts, she realized her mistake.

Unfortunately, she was already plummeting to the ground when she came to the realization.

She landed with a thud on top of a very warm, decidedly male body.

“—have thought this through,” he finished grimly.

Wincing at the vexation in his voice, she looked up and peered straight into the most arresting pair of dark eyes she had ever seen.