21.

  Faelwen

  The darkness of night clung to the world like a heavy shroud. I hadn’t slept for a long time. By the colour of the sky I knew that dawn was but a broken dream ahead.

  It felt timeless, a void where reality lingered in quiet denial. The boat rocked gently beneath me, drifting as though carried by an unseen will, slipping further from the shores of the Marshes of the Fiend.

  Artemis sat at the prow, a silhouette against the dark horizon. Still and watchful. His posture, regal and unyielding, might have fooled the stars into thinking he ruled the night.

  When he turned to look at me, his eyes aglow with some ancient wisdom, betraying a weight I couldn’t bear. Pain. Understanding. They were mirrors I wasn’t ready to face. I turned away, letting my grief ripple through me like stones cast into still water.

  The world around us was alive in ways I hadn’t expected. From the shore I could still see the Marshes of the Fiend, a faint mist curled over the Wetland, swallowing it inch by inch. Yet amidst the decay of the Wetland, wildflowers still glided effortlessly at the side of the river.

  The surface of the river turned liquid silver beneath them. Small ducks and birds swam around in this silver coloured water, brightening up the dying nature behind them.

  Magic seemed to bleed into the water here, as if the Weave itself shimmered faintly underneath it. I could feel it, and its presence unsettled me. This place felt too thin, too fragile like a whispered secret waiting to collapse under the weight of its own existence. This could explain the sudden birth of so many magically gifted human beings years ago.

  We drifted aimlessly now, the current a mere whisper of its former strength that pulled me away from the shores. From Ash. I only realized we had no oars when the boat lazily spun in the water, at the mercy of the slow-flowing river and the wind that was picking up strength.

  Ordinarily, panic would have crawled up my spine, but tonight? I couldn’t summon the energy to even care. The weight of my weariness held me down like chains. I leaned back against the wooden edge, staring blankly at the sky.

  Everything okay, Wen? Artemis broke the silence, his voice steady, though a quiet edge of concern rippled beneath it. I tipped my head toward the clouds, low and ominous, smothering any hint of stars. In the distance I heard the rumble of thunder.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I murmured. It was a lie so practiced it felt as natural as breathing. The smell of rain hung thick in the air. I’d always been able to smell it.

  It carried me back to when life had been simple, when I raced my father through the forest, laughing as we sprinted toward the safety of the house before the clouds opened up.

  I could still feel the hearth’s warmth, hear the rhythm of the rain against the roof, and taste the tea he’d pour into mugs far too big for my hands. Those moments felt distant now, another life entirely, unreachable through the fog of sorrow.

  Wen, Artemis said sharply, his tone snapping me back. Focus. Don’t lose yourself in memories again.

  “Why?” My voice came out sharper than I’d intended, biting and raw. “Don’t I deserve a moment’s peace? A distraction from… this?” His jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap back.

  I’m not saying you don’t deserve to grieve. But we’re drifting in a boat with no oars, Wen. And there’s a storm coming. He gestured with his head toward the darkening clouds, frustration colouring his voice.

  I knew he was right, but the truth stung. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my fingertips into my palm until the pain distracted me from the ache inside.

  “What do you want me to do, Artemis? I can’t make oars appear out of thin air, and I can’t chase the storm away. I can’t…” my voice cracked, raw and splintered. He remained silent, increasing the fire that burned in my heart.

  “I can’t do everything! I’m tired. I need to rest. Just let me rest!” I raised my voice at him.

  The silence that followed felt heavier than the sky. Artemis sighed, a sound so deep and weary it surprised me. It wasn’t anger I heard, just understanding, cloaked in the kind of exhaustion that comes with carrying too much for too long.

  You feel like no one understands you, he finally said, his voice softer now, steady as a pulse. But I do, Wen. I understand.

  I looked at him then, really looked at him. The old wisdom in his eyes startled me. I had never asked his age. How long had he been wandering this world before I’d met him?

  You’ve been struggling for so long, he continued, the words unravelling like a song held back. Even before him, you carried that pain, didn’t you? You smiled when you wanted to cry. Spoke when you longed for silence. Pretended to be whole when you were anything but. Ash gave you a taste of happiness you’d almost forgotten. And now, losing him feels like losing yourself all over again. You snap at me, only because you can’t handle the amount of emotions surging through your body anymore. And the truth is, you’re not okay.

  But you will be. You’ll carry on, like you always do, and one day my dear Wen. One day you’ll learn to let go.

  Hearing Ash’s name was like a knife twisting inside me. I clenched my fists, the tears rising despite my resolve to keep them buried. Artemis didn’t stop.

  It’s okay to feel broken, he said softly. It doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. You’re stronger than you think, Wen. Strong enough to stand, even when you don’t want to. Strong enough to heal. Don’t give up, okay? I know you’re hurt. But the feeling will pass. The tears will stop falling. And Ash… he wouldn’t want you to lose yourself in this storm. He gave his life to save us. Honor him by holding on.

  Something inside me cracked, and the tears I’d been holding in, spilled silently down my cheeks. Artemis padded over, pressing his furred face against my lap, warm and steady. I let my fingers sink into the thick softness of his coat.

  “You’re right, Buddy,” I choked out, my voice trembling. “As always.” He pulled back just enough to grin, wolfish and knowing.

  Strong, no. Wise? Absolutely. A small shaky laugh escaped me. I wiped my face and sat straighter.

  “We need to figure this out before that storm breaks.”

  We searched the boat for anything. Anything that could serve as an oar. Artemis poked his snout over the edge, muttering curses at the silver-touched water.

  “It’s no use, Buddy. I think we have to peddle with our bare hands to bring us to the waterside.” Artemis grumbled, not liking the idea of putting his paws in the weird silver-touched water. Then it happened.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Thud.

  The boat lurched violently, and I shrieked, gripping the sides as the world tilted. Artemis flattened himself against the deck, his ears plastered back.

  “What was that?!” I gasped.

  I don’t know, he whined. But it felt big. What if it is a sea monster?

  “Don’t say that! Sea monsters don’t exist!” I cried back at him. Right at that moment it started to rain and I heard the sky rumble above us.

  The boat rocked again and something rose from the water; a vast, wrinkled head glistening with silver droplets. Its dark eyes, ancient and kind, fixed on me. The creature smacked his lips and then opened his wide, lipless mouth as though smiling.

  Hello there, little wanderers, came a deep voice through the soft rumble of distant thunder, not spoken but resonating within my mind. I stared.

  “You can talk?”

  Jep, it answered simply. Artemis pushed himself up from the deck, trying to look imposing.

  Get out of her head! It’s crowded enough! He said. The big creature chuckled, a low, rumbling sound like distant thunder.

  I won’t linger, wolf. I’m here to take you somewhere.

  “Somewhere?” I echoed my voice rising in suspicion. I was suddenly aware that the boat was no longer drifting. We were being carried atop a massive, moss-covered shell. Now and then one of the creature’s flippers splashed out of the water.

  “You’re a sea turtle,” I whispered, half in awe.

  That’s right, little wanderers.

  The boat rocked a little to the side when the turtle followed the long curve in the river.

  “Where are you taking us?” I asked again, still wary of his intentions.

  Somewhere, the turtle answered again.

  “Where is that?” I pressed.

  His big brown eyes focused on me and with a chuckle he responded, you’ll see.

  I sighed, this turtle wasn’t going to tell me anything. Artemis grumbled his disapproval as well, but laid himself down on the boat again. Did he trust this turtle?

  “What kind of business does a sea turtle have so far from the sea?” I tried to make conversation, hoping to gain more information from it.

  An old friend asked me to help him guide you to the right place.

  “And who is this old friend?” I asked in return.

  An old friend of mine, the turtle answered slowly. I rolled my eyes. It was better if I spared my energy and took some rest before we reached our mysterious destination. There was nothing I could do now, and since Artemis seemed at ease maybe I should be too.

  The turtle’s slow, rhythmic movement had a lulling quality. I curled up beside Artemis, clutching Ash’s knife in my hands.

  As the turtle hummed, a sound that vibrated through the very air, I felt safe for the first time in what felt like forever. I let my eyes drift shut. In the stillness, I reached for that connection with Ash.

  I could feel a strange, thin silver line connecting me to him. It travelled through the universe like a magical pathway I could walk onto if I wanted. And at the end, I could feel his presence.

  “Ash…” I whispered. Nothing. I sighed. But then just before sleep claimed me, I felt it. A tug, soft and fleeting, like a whisper. As if he meant to say, I’m here.

  A smile found my lips, and for the first time in days, I allowed hope to take root again in my heart. I would find him again. Somehow, I would.

  ? ? ?

  It took the great sea turtle the entire day to reach our destination. The storm had gone further south and the rain had stopped. It was quiet after the storm, only the splash of water from the turtle could be heard.

  Its immense shell rose and fell like a slow-moving hill upon the river’s gentle currents, each stroke of his flippers a rhythmic pulse against the water.

  I sat perched on the edge of the boat, staring ahead toward the distant forest at the edge of the Andw?ne Mere. That’s where I wanted to go and exactly where the turtle seemed to be taking us. Strange.

  The sun hung low, its golden glow spilling across the horizon, turning the world into a beautiful red-orange paradise.

  Here you are, the turtle’s voice echoed in my head, deep as the sea itself. Walk straight ahead until the last light of the day reaches through the trees and shows you your path.

  “The last light of the day?” I muttered aloud, absentmindedly fingering the small key that dangled from my neck.

  Its edges were smooth from years of touch, the metal warm against my skin. Automatically the words flowed from my lips as though spoken by someone else.

  “ír nidh-tana-dhir í f? medui calad uin í aur.” Artemis turned to me, his golden eyes wide with astonishment.

  That’s from your music box. This turtle knew, he exclaimed. I nodded slowly, the memory fluttering like a delicate moth in my mind.

  “My mother’s music box… I wonder what became of it.”

  The turtle gave a low rumble as we bumped against the riverbank across from the Wetlands.

  Hurry now, little wanderers. Or the light will leave you behind. His words resonated like the final notes of an ancient song.

  “Thank you, my friend,” I said, bowing my head. “I wish you safe waters on your journey home.”

  Artemis and I climbed out of the boat, our boots sinking slightly into the damp sand as we stepped ashore. With a single glance over my shoulder, I watched the turtle drift back into the river, its massive form diving under the water.

  The boat was left behind on the riverbank. My gaze wandered across the misty Wetlands in the distance. Though the dense fog obscured everything, I knew Ash was out there somewhere, his presence a thread still tied to my heart.

  Ahead, the forest loomed, an expanse of tangled darkness, its edges kissed by the last rays of the sun. The scent of pine and earth rolled towards us, a far cry from the acrid stench of the Wetlands. Artemis lifted his head and sniffed the air.

  Well, at least it smells better than the Marshes of the Fiend, he said, his voice light but encouraging. I chuckled, shaking off the weight in my chest.

  “You’re right. Let’s go before the sun disappears entirely.” And with that, we began the next chapter of our journey.

  ? ? ?

  We walked along the narrow strip of beach, the sand soft beneath our boots, when something unusual snagged at the corner of my vision. I froze mid-step, my body tensing.

  There, sprawled on the sandy riverbank, lay a figure. A body. The waves lapped gently at his boots, washing away any trace of his journey.

  “Artemis,” I whispered, my voice a sharp warning. Artemis crept forward, his brown-grey fur bristling. He sniffed twice, then let out a sudden startled howl. My heart leapt.

  I ran to his side and fell to my knees beside the figure, my hands trembling. Gently, I turned him over. The face that met mine was pale and still, but familiar. My breath caught in my throat.

  “Spook?” I shook him, desperation blooming in my chest. He didn’t move. His lips were tinged blue, and there was no rise or fall of his chest. Panic thundered in my ears as I pressed my ear to his ribs. Silence. No heartbeat.

  “No, no, no…”

  Instinct took over. I tilted his head back and pressed my mouth to his, forcing three quick breaths into his lungs. My hands found his chest, pressing hard and fast. Again. Again.

  “Come on, you stubborn fool,” I growled between compressions, my vision blurring with tears. I placed my head on his chest. Nothing. My heart constricted, time seemed to stop as despair threatened to swallow me whole.

  Then Spook’s body jolted and relief crashed over me like a wave. He coughed violently, water pouring from his mouth, and his chest shuddered as he sucked in a ragged breath.

  I gasped, sitting back. His bright blue eyes fluttered open, meeting mine with that same roguish glint I knew so well.

  “Hello, little fox,” he croaked, a faint grin tugging at his lips. I let out a shaky laugh, pulling him into a fierce embrace.

  “You fool. You absolute fool. What were you thinking, following me all this way?”

  “With that look on your face when I left you?” he rasped, his grin widening. “I had to.” I pulled back, frowning.

  “What look?”

  He smirked, his voice still hoarse but filled with warmth.

  “Your ‘don’t abandon me’ look. It’s very convincing, you know.”

  I barked out a laugh, swiping at my damp cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

  “Maybe,” he teased. “But I’m here, aren’t I? That’s what matters. Although… my chest hurts a lot.”

  My smile softened.

  “I had to bring you back from the brink of death. How did you get here, Spook?”

  Spook looked shocked for a moment before responding.

  “Thanks and well,” he said, dragging a hand through his soaked auburn hair, “That’s a long tale for another time. Short version? I knew you’d head toward Andw?ne Mere, so I bought a boat and followed the river. Let’s just say the river had other plans. The boat flipped, and the water tried its damnedest to drag me under. I gave all my strength to swim to the shore and passed out.”

  I shook my head, torn between amazement and exasperation.

  “Even the river can’t get rid of you.”

  “Not a chance,” he said with a grin. I ruffled his damp hair affectionately, and he ruffled mine in return.

  Together, we stood, turning to face the darkening forest. Its shadows seemed to breathe as the last light of the sun stretched long and golden through the trees, illuminating a faint path into its depths. Spook turned to me, his gaze steady and piercing.

  “You’ll have to tell me your story too, you know. Something tells me it’s quite the tale.”

  I sighed, my chest heavy with everything I couldn’t yet say.

  “You have no idea. But I’m glad you’re here.”

  And with that, we stepped into the forest, the sun’s last rays dancing between the branches, guiding us forward into whatever awaited.