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“I wished to observe how events were progressing. You’ve seen our power.

We can heal all varieties of vegetation.

But there’s an uncharitable debate among the pixies, whether humans are worthy of our help.

” Skye sighed. “It’s rare that the world is changed without a catalyst. A famine could be the inspiration for great renewal in the mortal realm. ”

When Heather was last in the human court, the common folk were on the brink of an uprising.

Perhaps it was time for a revolution in the kingdom.

Was it possible for nameless peasants such as herself to make an impact?

They could rise together… but would they succeed in overthrowing the king?

Was it worth the pain of starvation and death that would precede?

Rain drops began to fall rapidly around them.

“Have you ever experienced rain like this?” she inquired. Thoughts of her former home, a thorn in her consciousness. A crease of worry formed between her brows.

“I, myself, have never seen so much precipitation. But…” he paused in contemplation, his eyes on the misty horizon, “There are stories… tales about divine spirits of the realms and how they wiped a kingdom from the map of our world.” Heather twisted to face him, stunned.

“And considering how the human king is determined to ruin any landmarks that lie in his road’s path…

mayhap, the great Spirits are once again awakened. ”

“Spirits of the realms?”

“Our deities. Entities of the air, the waters and of the heavens and earth. Have ye never heard of the gods of old? There was a bard who was whisked away with spirits. They hosted him for several lifetimes in their castles of air, instructing him in their ways.”

“Was he, by chance, light-haired?” Heather’s mind jumped to the wandering minstrel with the heavenly voice.

He looked as if he stepped out of the sequence of time.

Could that bard be one and the same? Her thoughts whirled around what was possible and what wasn’t, the line between, a murky haze.

What would it be like to return to the human realm, after so long and realize that everything and everyone you once knew… no longer existed?

“I’ve only heard the stories. My sire might know,” said Skye.

She peered into the downpour. “Do you think history is repeating itself?” The very thought filled her with unease.

During Jessa’s last visit, she mentioned floods were ailing the realm.

People had to abandon their homes. It didn’t escape Heather’s notice that the never-ending rain coincided with the king’s toppling of the Stones.

Did these elemental gods have similar plans for the human kingdom?

Late in the afternoon, Skye flew Heather to a new height in the treetop.

No ribbons were up this far. The highest limbs beyond human reach.

Only green leaves as far as the eye could see.

However, Heather spotted numerous flashes of white nestled throughout the branches.

She caught quick glimpses of the mystery objects between the plentiful foliage as Skye propelled deeper among the boughs.

Dangling from the tree’s side shoots were clusters of pale encasings. Silk casings, she realized.

The bundles were opalescent cocoons. The semitransparent chrysalis held faerie younglings seemingly asleep within.

She leaned out of Skye’s embrace, peering through the opaque film, noticing that they weren’t newly born.

Most looked to be about ten to twelve human years.

The faeries inside were pulled into a tight ball, knees to chin, as if they were in a mother’s womb.

Heather gasped and covered her mouth, the shock of seeing a small face beyond the barrier.

They were extremely delicate and beautifully so.

“Where are we? Why are they in there?” She whispered to Skye. The silence of this space was eerie, and she dared not shatter the tranquility of it.

“This is the sacred area of our home. Every faerie is born wingless and lacking magick. When they reach adolescence, they go through this metamorphosis. They’ll emerge in six months, winged and vested with their power.” Heather had wondered about the youngling’s lack of wings earlier in the day.

Fluttering, Skye advanced to the outlying branches.

The horizon was visible for miles from this vantage point.

The heavens were a mesmerizing wash of hues; lavender, blue, pink, red, and orange collided behind thick rain clouds.

Skye lowered into a hollow in the trunk, a comfy haven within.

The spot provided the perfect view of a twig and moss platform on the outermost part of a tree limb, resembling the patchwork of a bird’s nest. More and more faeries gathered into hollows as the sun sunk into the sky and the lush shades of dusk faded into the somber colors of night.

Those in attendance remained respectfully silent. Skye’s green glow illuminated their recess, and others emitted their light one by one. Heather thought they resembled colorful burning lanterns. Or nebulous stars.

The male from the morn, the one with the yellow ribbon, took center stage on the moss platform.

His saffron and orange paned butterfly wings stood taunt above his shoulders, already glowing.

The song from the market square emerged from another hollow where an orchestra sat.

The pixie was accompanied by a female on the platform.

He glittered and glowed sunshine yellow, the ribbon he had sheared earlier, lying in his hands.

The female shimmered blue, her own wings pulsating flashes of light.

The male held her hand as he draped the sash over their united hands, the action reminding Heather how Skye had performed the motion with her wish ribbon.

The male faced his female counterpart. “For ye, I wish that you’ll be loved until the end of your days.”

The female twined the yellow ribbon over their gathered hands a second time, “My wish for ye is that a day won’t pass ye by without feeling embraced by my love.”

The couple continued to wrap the ribbon around their joined hands, making promise wishes to one another.

“Before those here as witnesses, is it your wish to be joined?” asked a third faerie on the podium, conducting the ceremony.

The male responded, his voice clear as a bell. “With this simple twine, our souls and hands do thee bind.”

Heather recognized the words from the faerie square ballad.

“I thee bind,” replied the female.

Skye’s gaze met Heather’s in the glowing dark and murmured, “I thee bind.” He clasped her hand in his.

Heather’s eyes glistened silver in the moonlight.

“As promised, behold the secret of the wish ribbons. Know that I’ll always keep my word to ye,” Skye whispered. His moon kissed tresses fell over pale green irises as he peered down at her. The smolder of his gaze sealing his promise.

Never before had she been so cherished. With her mother's absence, Heather forgot how it was to be loved.

A warmth she had never known lit within her, the gaping chasm of loneliness in her heart dwindling.

He wrapped his hands around her gently and leaned in, brushing his lips against hers.

For the first time in a sea of forevers, she felt safe and lovingly cared for.

A realm of endless possibilities seemingly at her fingertips for once.

He whispered, “What ye witnessed was the vow the original wisher promised to her betrothed. We recite the sacred words as tradition dictates.” He swallowed thickly.

“The names of the first couple were lost to the span of time. Unbeknownst to humanity- is that the healer- the one who sought a wish, could not prevent her beloved from perishing. And the elder pixie struck a bargain with her. If she could traverse the spiritual realm, find her betrothed, and guide him back to ours, his spirit would again be made flesh. But… there was a catch. The pixie required that she lead him from the labyrinth of the dead without looking backwards or breaking their bond. The healer used a gold ribbon to twine herself to her love. So, as we see it, the ribbon represents the invisible tether of souls.” He looked into Heather’s gray eyes. His arm wound around her waist.

“When the healer and her beloved proved themselves, the pixie promised the faerie tree would grant any wish of those bearing a ribbon gift to the oak.”

Heather watched on as the joined fae on the podium sealed their vows with a kiss. Their blue and yellow dust combined in a swirling, glittering cloud above.