Ayre and I have been having a nice conversation. While her opinions on storytelling are obviously poorly informed, that’s something I can continue working on over time. Eventually, she’ll begin to understand. Maybe. It’s been fifteen years, and she still doesn’t get it, but as far as I know, her kind live a long time, so there’s no rush.

  What is a more immediate concern, though, is a tension I feel in my chest. I feel it like a hand around my heart, squeezing with considerable force, but as I look around either with essence-sight or otherwise I see nothing more than the razor-thin line of essence leaving from me to head into the forest. The feeling is pretty uncomfortable and very distracting. So much so that I struggle to pay attention to my favorite topic with my favorite person.

  Repeatedly, over the better part of a half hour, I feel this pang in my chest, like something tugging at my proverbial heartstrings. Something in need, I think? I try to focus on it, feeding essence into the connection at random points. Olly is on the other side of the connection, so maybe he’s feeling down. I’m still not sure about exactly what the binding we made entails, but if it’s something like this, I’m not sure how I feel about it.

  It’s probably bad? It’s almost certainly bad, I feel. And that feeling is reinforced when I see Olly step out of the treeline. His skin is a mottled collection of metallic hues, and he’s moving erratically. Tiny movements that are quite unlike him. In a way, it’s almost too confident, I think. There’s no hesitation in his motions, which is distinctly weird. Olly is basically nothing but unconfident hesitation in most things.

  But…not now. “Perhaps you absorbed something that gave you back a memory or two?” I continue to muse as Ayre gets up and into a fighting stance: crouched low with her halberd braced between both hands and its head towards the ground. It gives her a very triangular profile, with the “point” of the weapon towards Olly.

  “Lilly, back up and make some space.” She coldly orders me back after Olly fails to respond to her a couple of times, which feels more than a little rude, but I oblige because she seems quite focused.

  Olly comes to a stop, almost staggering as he does, about twenty feet from Ayre, and she probes again, “You in there, Olly? I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to.” And he doesn’t respond again. Something is very wrong.

  As I flutter back and away from what appears to be an inevitable clash, I begin a simple incantation, keeping its potency as low as possible because passing out is the last thing I need right now.

  By the spirit of the Fae, I beseech the world to reveal that which holds him thrall.

  Elysian essence pours out of my body and concentrates around my eyes, granting me the sight of the fae. Something esoteric and hard to describe to someone who hasn’t experienced it, but I start to see possibilities. Each passing moment in Creation births each successive moment, ready to be felt and seen. I see the thread running between Olly and me in stark golden relief, and it looks frail—not at all like it did before he left. It appears to be being drawn to his cursed arm, specifically towards a welt of dense essence beneath its surface that has grown drastically since he left. The welt is reaching out tendrils through the arm itself, encompassing everything except for his ring finger and stretching out into his body and towards his mind.

  “Well, that’s no good. It’s not even him doing this, not really.” I muse as Olly darts forward, closing the gap between him and Ayre in two powerful, loping, strides that leave behind heavy imprints from his weight and boots on each. His arm turns into a sword! I find I’m a little excited despite myself, but that feeling bottoms out quickly when he makes a swipe directly at Ayre’s throat. She deftly knocks the attack away, batting his arm back as she rises to standing and begins to twist. She keeps the deflecting motion going and swings the haft of her halberd at his chin, but he narrowly avoids it before diving at Ayre again.

  Ayre dives backwards with a powerful flap of her wings, creating a lot of space to make him chase her. It’s all very dramatic and looks impressive, but as I watch, Olly fades from sight, even to my enhanced eyes. I can still see the thread, but even it’s gone hazy, so I focus on it, trying to bolster it a bit in case it might help.

  But when I open my eyes, I see a faded blur of Olly’s face twisted into something hateful jumping at me, arm already in motion and no time to react. All I have time to say in my disbelief is—

  Olly won’t hurt me.

  The moment the thought crosses my lips, I see him tense up through the refractive haze, moving his arm to the side enough to miss. And he crashes into the ground with a heavy, damp, and graceless thud. He stays grounded for a few moments but surges back up and towards me again.

  “Lilly, up!” Ayre’s voice pierces my focus with a tone she seldom uses, and I react on instinct, projecting myself upwards and away as she blows air forcefully, emptying her lungs instantly. A coherent wall of pure air essence crashes through the air right where I had been and collides with the again airborne Olly and does a good job of making him more airborne. He tumbles through the air, as if Ayre had scooped him up like a doll and thrown him across a room.

  Looking back at her, she staggers, dropping to one knee from the exertion. “Lilly, get clear. I need to focus, and I can’t protect you like that.” she commands as Olly hits the ground rolling and tumbling to a stop. Without waiting for a response, she rises with effort and begins to run at the recovering Olly as winds begin to whip around him. I do as I’m told and fly up higher to a point of probable safety as Ayre begins to bolster her steps with wing beats to gain speed.

  Olly looses a spell, Ayre’s spell, I recognize, but with massively more force behind it. I see when he releases it, a significant chunk of the dark welt of essence in his arm goes with it to power the spell. It tears up the ground as it travels towards Ayre and its outermost whorls cause me to tumble through the air for a moment before I can recover. But when I do, I see Ayre do the coolest thing I’ve ever seen her do, and it utterly dispels the danger of the situation for me.

  She cuts the spell in half with her weapon! At least…I think that’s what she did. At any rate, she parted the wall of air essence and used the moment of surprise to close the gap with Olly, who was seemingly quite shocked as he just stared at her for a little bit. She slams the flat of her weapon against his temple after smashing apart the crystalline blade growing out of his arm that attempted to block it.

  Her final moment of impact seemed almost…gentle, though, after smashing through his block, with a burst of aero essence when she taps him that immediately transfers through her weapon and into his head. He promptly falls over and spasms a couple of times, and I watch that energy in his arm retreat back into itself, pushed away by whatever spell Ayre used.

  “Ayre! What was that? Is he dead? Don’t people normally twitch like that when they’re dying?” I fling myself through the air to reach Ayre as she stands over Olly, her weapon’s bladed point aimed at the middle of his chest.

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  “Lilly, please focus. Isn’t there something you can do? Try to snap him out of it, or something? Your magic healed what Olly did to me, think you can do something similar here?” Ayre’s voice is terse, and her eyes don’t leave Olly, poised to… The thought isn’t acceptable, so I push it out of my mind.

  “I can try, but I can’t do magic that involved anymore… Can you stop pointing that at him like that?” Something in me makes the words come out almost pleading as I search for a good explanation. “If he comes to, he might think of it as a threat.” A good excuse by my reckoning, and Ayre seems to think about it for a moment before lowering her weapon a few inches.

  Letting out a sigh of relief, I flutter down to Olly and look at him as he twitches occasionally: sometimes small muscle spasms on his face, other times more full-body shakes. I try to focus on the essence moving around his body to get an idea of what’s going on. Mortal essence theory isn’t something I’m particularly well versed in, and he is definitely an exceptional case, so I just float over him watching patterns form and dissipate.

  Two regular pulses of metal essence that pushes air through the body—heart and blood, probably.

  An erratic intake of essence moving down his throat—breathing.

  As I watch, I realize something I’d missed because it had been omnipresent. I couldn’t see what it was because it’s everywhere. It’s just background noise spread evenly everywhere. Metal essence. His whole body is absolutely stuffed to the brim with the stuff, and even as I watch, it’s being… consumed. That sick dark bruise of essence in his right arm is steadily drawing in the wealth of essence in his body and growing for the effort.

  “Ayre, I think I know what I need to do, but you’ll probably need to hold him down because it’s absolutely going to hurt.” She gives me a questioning look but moves around, setting her glaive on the ground within arm's reach and kneels next to his head and braces her hands on his shoulders before nodding. “So, a question, because I don’t know human biology well. What’s the best way to diffuse essence in the air for a human?”

  Ayre looks thoughtful for a few moments while Olly continues to fight whatever battle he has going on in his mind, “Breathing, probably, at least that’s what’s described in books. In extreme situations, it can be bled through the skin or open wounds.”

  “Well…we’ll skip open wounds if at all possible.” I shudder at the thought but push through it. “Okay, you might have to resist this, I don’t know if it’ll affect you.”

  I flutter down to land on his chest; within reach of his face. The connection between us feels warmer this close, maybe seeking comfort from each side? “Agh, why did I do that binding? I don’t know how any of this works!” I exhale, trying to resist the building anxiety and declare my intentions. I throw aside pomp and circumstance for clarity, though.

  Cleanse my friend and bring them peace, let cursed control and chaos cease.

  I push elysian essence into his form and guide it to collect the free metal essence and to eject it from his body. After being shown the first time, my essence moves to do the rest of its task unguided. Olly starts to thrash, but Ayre holds his chest as straight as possible, so I can maintain my footing. She looks distinctly uncomfortable, and I see some of my essence trying to “help” her similarly, but she doesn't complain despite the trickle of liquid ruby essence leaking from the corner of her lips. Ignia affects the mind, so I guess Elysia viewed it similarly to whatever us happening with Olly.

  Moments pass as what looks like quicksilver starts to dribble out of the corner of his mouth and through his pores, like wringing out a sponge full of water. Some blood comes out with it, and I grimace and look down at his body again. As the welt is robbed of its “food” it starts to recede rapidly, drawing into itself. But… A fair amount of the metal essence won’t budge, like it’s now a part of him according to the will of the world.

  I frown as the last few droplets come out, and I watch the elysian essence move towards his heart unbidden and wreathe it. As it spools around, I see it leaving behind small threads of magic -- all so small as to be basically immaterial -- ensconcing his hearts with a proverbial yarn ball that had nowhere near enough yarn. “But why?” I ask the essence aloud without thinking. The essence withdraws slightly before apparently reconsidering and moving back to whatever it’s doing around his heart.

  “Why what? I’ve got a lot of whys right now, so you’ll need to be more specific.” Ayre looks exhausted now that Olly has stopped thrashing around. And falls back onto her butt with a sigh, running her hand through her hair and straightening it a bit.

  “I don’t really know how to explain it, but I think he’s fine now.” I hop up and away with a wingbeat as Ayre backs off. We both watch Olly for a little while in silence as his face screws itself up in anguish and curls onto his side and draws his knees up to his chest. Looking at one another, our frowns grow at the same time.

  “Well, that’s…normal, at least.” Ayre says, and I feel something defensive rise and I shoot her a disbelieving look.

  “That’s kinda rude, Ayre. It’s not like it’s his fault.” I snap at her a bit too sharply.

  “That’s not- I’m just saying that he wasn’t exactly showing emotion before, certainly not regret. It means he’s back to thinking right again.” She returns my look, “What’s your problem? That could have gone awfully. I’m just decompressing.” her voice comes out a little exasperated. “You think I know how to handle this any better than you do? Actually, never mind. Shout when he’s up.” She hops to her feet and starts walking towards the cabin without another word, even leaving her glaive behind.

  I give some thought to flying after her, but decide that leaving Olly alone right now is probably the greater of the evils in the situation. People waking up after something traumatic is always a trial for them in my stories, so I assume it’ll be similar for Olly. But how to comfort him?

  Pouting a bit, I consider. “Most of the stuff people would do in this case, I know of, is usually really cutesy and romantic. Ending with the person coming around and then a kiss or some such.” That thought gives me a very unfamiliar feeling that makes me pause before trying to distract myself in another direction, “Also, for some reason, they never cover these situations with a size difference.” I sigh, “Stories are unfair. Nobody ever thinks about the fairy. Fine, then I’ll play by their rules this time.” With a flourish and a spin, I call my essence to shift my form to my usual mortal size—still smaller than an average person by a good bit in a concession to essence efficiency now that that’s something I have to contend with. Being small is better anyways.

  I land softly in the grass in a shower of dust that clings to my dress. It would have been very impressive if someone had been looking, but…it’s more practice if nothing else. “With my own gate weakened so, maybe I should be doing this more often to practice and build more essence tolerance… Blaaah focus, Lilly!” I shake my arms and legs out and then kneel beside his head with a couple wing flutters to land softly. Lifting his head into my lap the way it’s usually described, I feel…really embarrassed, actually. Finding that I am quite glad that Ayre is mad at me and probably not going to be looking over here for a little while.

  Sitting there and listening to gentle sobs, I come to a realization. I have no idea what to do with my hands. “Is it okay to stroke his hair? That feels nice and is really comforting, right? Ayre always stroked and brushed my hair, and that wasn’t weird, right? So all I have to do is…do it. It’s easy. Just put your hand on the side of his head and gently move it. Simple. Easy and straightforward. It’s what people do in the books because everyone likes their hair being stroked.” Holding my hand about an inch over his hair for far too long, I start to feel very silly, but still struggle to go. One. More. Inch.

  My cheeks aflame with self-consciousness, I drop my hand and place it on the side of his head among his ruffled brown hair. “Oh. Soft.” I hadn’t expected his hair to be soft. It has the visual texture of, at best, a bed of straw, so I was expecting it to be coarse. “He doesn’t even do anything with it! I developed spells to treat my hair to get it perfect!” I grump about it for a little bit while I gently run my hand through his hair. After a couple of minutes, he quiets down and looking down at him, he gets a small, vacant smile. That smile does something that I struggle to put into words, but I abruptly stop stroking his hair.

  “He can’t be conscious, right? Yeah. No way. That’s just a reaction to a nice feeling, Lilly. You’re fine. Worst-case scenario, he wakes up, and you tell him the truth.” I pause in my thoughts, unsure how to define the last word. I return to stroking his hair and decide to leave that question unanswered and to just wait for him to recover naturally. Beginning to hum a song, I just find myself looking down for a while without meaning to. “I have nowhere to be, and we’re going to be traveling together, so getting comfortable with contact with him will be pleasant. Be important. It will be essential because we’re going to be in close quarters as we travel. All three of us.”

  For all of my thinking and embarrassment, I come to a final realization before I settle in for however long it takes. I still don’t know what to do with my other hand.