Page 54

forty-one

A Whirlwind of Light

W ith each slippered step, Heather’s tender feet throbbed. The soggy earth saturated her shoes and skirt, adding weight to her already exhausted and heavy limbs. She traversed the dark terrain like a wraith.

The elixir’s temporary relief had long worn off, and she dared not even twitch the moth appendages at her spine.

She was shrinking back to pixie size, the enchantment of her magick waning with each chime of a clock.

Unlike the first transformation, there wasn’t a pop or burning pull, reducing her bones.

She didn’t ache with fever. She attributed the difference to the fact the change was transpiring at a snail’s pace.

Indiscernible to the eye. Not within a single gasping, horrific, shuddering breath. As it had after the mushroom pottage.

By dawn, she had crossed over the Wandering Wood’s border. Her stride diminished, as she was several feet shorter. Eyelids heavy and sinking, she fought the urge to crawl to the nearest wide trunk and curl into a bed of ferns seeking slumber.

But on she trudged. Skye and Rhoden dove from her shoulder perch, flying ahead, weaving over and under the wilderness. They were luminous lanterns, lighting her path through the shadowed, lush bramble. She couldn’t wait to be home.

Mae yawned loudly, seated on Heather’s shoulder. The poor matron had white knuckled the threads of Heather’s gown for the entirety of the journey. Clearly as exhausted as Heather.

Rays of the sun shot through the trees as birds made song within the branches. Yawning broadly, Heather covered her mouth with a hand. A familiar swishing sound graced her ears. Ribbons.

Peering ahead in the soft morning light- Heather absorbed the faerie tree from the perspective of human height.

It was a behemoth.

The trunk was wide enough that two horse drawn carriages could be driven through it, side by side. Thick wisteria vines twined up its spine, the lilac and lavender blue blossoms, clusters of jewels.

Mushrooms littered the ground, growing in constellations among the tree’s shadow. Ribbons tethered to the branches rippled in the wind.

“We’re home,” she reassured Mae.

Heather halted her steps, “Skye, I’ll wait right here until I fully revert to pixie stature. It wouldn’t be very princess-like to crush the market square under foot.” She huffed a laugh, striding over to a neighboring tree, intending to get comfortable.

But before she could sit, a sea of rainbow starlight rushed from the great oak.

A brilliant white globe charged towards her face. Heather recoiled from the blinding light. A prick of pain bloomed in her cheek. Reminding her of an embroidery needle poke.

The orb dove at her again, narrowly missing her eye. The tide of sparking lights whirled her form, a tornado of air and glistening luster.

Before Heather could raise a hand to defend herself, the king of faerie came into focus, spear in hand at the ready.

“Father don’t!” shouted Skye as he barreled between them, their white and jade glow colliding as he intercepted the male. They tumbled through air as Aster and Camellia vaulted into Heather’s vision, their snow hue shine blazing.

Heather’s great wings spread broadly, emitting her own rose-colored radiance. The king recoiled, springing back, his spear clattering from his hand- eyes wide with disbelief.

“Heather?” Aster cried.

“Stand down.” Commanded the king to the swarm of pixies. Their vibrancy dimmed as they scattered to the treetops.

The royal family hovered, gaping at Heather. Astonishment lining their faces.

“How have you come to be human sized in pixie form?” asked Camellia.

“It… it isn’t done,” stuttered the king.

Heather’s feet smarted more now that she was standing still.

She lowered to the base of the tree, sitting cross legged.

Holding her palm out to Mae, the woman walked aboard, and Heather set her down on a pebble.

Tarragon managed to flutter from Heather’s shoulder to the earth. The royal family descended.

“Tarragon!” cried Aster, as she fluttered to embrace the male, who remained as stoic as ever, with his arms lowered to his sides.

Heather’s form hazed and shuttered as her body reduced in size. Blinking rapidly, she fought through a dizzy spell.

She was now the height of a young child. Luckily, her apparel shifted with her, or she’d be swimming in material.

Skye perched on Heather’s knee.

“I know not how to explain what happened. I merely wished it, and my will bore the form,” said Heather.

“The earth shuddered with your approach. Father called everyone to arms, fearful we were about to be invaded by goblins!” exclaimed Aster.

“Do goblins roam these woods?” Heather frowned, examining the landscape.

“There’s always a first,” replied Camellia.

“Mayhap your power was amplified when you fell into Sarsen’s Lumen,” suggested Skye.

Heather was too exhausted to ponder on it. Her eyes drooped and she yawned wide, “Mayhap.” She collapsed against the tree, ready for sleep to claim her.