7.

  Faelwen

  The sight of the Twin Lakes was breath-taking. The lakes like vast mirrors cradling the sky, so pristine it felt we had wandered into a painting too perfect for the waking world. A hush fell over us as we approached the edge of the upper lake. The lake stretched out before us in stillness. It was a silence not of emptiness, but of peace. Deep, profound, and long denied. No more frantic gallops through shadowed woods. No more glancing back for flickers of dark creatures or the unholy growls of the Vexmaws slithering in the shadows. We had pressed on through the long velvet of the night, taking short, uneasy rests, always listening, cautious of the Vexmaw following our trail.

  Until now.

  “We made it,” Elora exhaled, her voice trembling with relief. Her shoulders sagged, and for a moment, the steel edge she always carried dulled. “You have no idea how much I long for a proper bath.”

  Spook leaned forward in his saddle, sniffed the air around her, and wrinkled his nose with exaggerated disgust.

  “Smells like you need one,” he said with a lopsided grin, eyes glinting mischievously.

  Elora’s hand snapped out with the grace and precision of someone who’d done this before, a flat smack to the back of his head. He yelped and ducked too late. I couldn’t help but laugh. She grew up with older brothers, I wasn’t surprised about her quick reprimand. That small moment warmed something inside me I feared had gone numb. Grief still curled in my chest like a sleeping serpent, but in that moment, it loosened its grip. And I could laugh. Genuinely laugh. Thinking about the reason of my grief my thoughts wandered off. The bleeding had grown heavier, yes… but there was no pain. And somehow, in that cruel mercy, I dared to hope the child still clung to life inside me. Despite the words the healer had spoken to me.

  “There’s supposed to be a city within the lake,” Elora said suddenly, her voice pulling me from my thoughts. I reined in my mare at the shore and scanned the crystalline surface, my gaze drifting across the still expanse. We stood at the edge of the upper lake, tranquil, glassy, surrounded by gentle slopes that cradled it like a mother’s arms. Further south shimmered its sibling, Velisund, its silver surface flecked with golden light.

  The Two lakes were separated by a slender stretch of grassy land, like a ribbon stitched between twin jewels. According to the ancient map Elora carried, the city of Lirandell slumbered at Velisund’s foot, while this lake, the upper one, unnamed on the maps, was said to be home to the ethereal city of Nymvalis. A sanctuary of the water nymphs. A city born of mist and starlight, floating in the heart of the lake as the songs recalled. But as I looked, there was… nothing.

  No spires glinting in the light. No ripple of music on the wind. Only the bright, impossible blue of the water, so pure it made your eyes ache. Strange, delicate plants swayed on the riverside. Water from the high mountains fed these lakes, meltwater from the glaciers.

  “Well,” Ash said as he dismounted, rubbing the ache from his legs. “I say we make camp here. Rest a day before we head north to the Silverveil mountains.”

  Elora studied her map.

  “It’s just so strange,” she answered, turning the map to its side. “It says here Nymvalis.”

  Ash shrugged. “Maybe it’s an old map. Maybe the city doesn’t exist anymore. I haven’t heard of water nymphs for years.”

  Elora sighed. And nobody raised anymore questions. We were too tired to care and too grateful for the temporary peace this place offered. We began to unpack, our motions slow and quiet as if afraid to disturb the fragile beauty of this place. The air smelled of moss and distant pine. We pitched our tents at the water’s edge, where the breeze carried a soft murmur from the lake. As the sun slipped behind the jagged peaks, the world changed.

  At first, it was subtle, a deepening of shadows, a silvery hush. Then, one by one, the violet blooms ringing the lake opened their petals and began to glow. Soft amethyst light shimmered along the shoreline, painting the air in hues I’d never seen before. Fireflies danced in spirals over the water like drifting stars. The crickets began their song, joined by the sweet, high calls of unseen birds. And in the grasslands beyond, something sleek and wild gave a cry that echoed like a broken flute.

  It was magic, quiet and gentle. Not the kind of power that roared or cracked the skies, but the kind that healed. That reminded us we were still alive.

  The fire crackled in the centre of our small camp, casting a flickering light over the water. After the chaos of the encounter, the peace felt almost surreal, but none of us were complaining. We sat in a loose circle, wrapped in cloaks and tired smiles, letting the warmth of the fire and each other chase away what was left of the fear.

  “You should’ve seen your face when that thing jumped out,” Spook said, grinning across the flames at me. “You looked like someone had slapped you with a wet trout.”

  I gave him a lazy smirk. “Yeah? At least I managed to fire an arrow. You, meanwhile, were just flapping your arms and shouting, ‘do something!’ like a chicken without a head.”

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  Spook groaned, leaning back on his hands. “It was a strategic alert.”

  Ash snorted. “Strategic, huh? Is that what we’re calling screaming now?”

  Elora pointed a stick at him with a half-eaten piece of vegetable like it was her sword. “Honestly, Spook, I thought you were about to faint. I had to stop myself from turning my horse around to check if you were still breathing.”

  “You didn’t exactly looked composed yourself,” Spook shot back. “You just swinged your sword as if you were trying to chop down a tree, not fighting a monster.”

  “At least I tried to defend myself. Unlike you who had to be saved by our dark mage over here,” Elora said, puffing her chest a little and pointing her stick at Ash who sat next to her. He waved the stick away. Spook raised a finger, opened his mouth, then glanced at me and sighed. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

  No he’s not, Artemis’s voice echoed dryly in my mind a wolfish grin on his snout.

  Don’t you start, I thought back, hiding my grin.

  “What’s Artemis saying?” Ash asked, eyeing me with narrowed suspicion. “He is saying something, right? You’ve got that look.”

  I shrugged, playing innocent. “Nothing you’d want to hear.”

  Artemis yawned dramatically and plopped down beside me, resting his head on my knee with a smug satisfaction of someone who’d just watched chaos unfold and judged everyone involved.

  “I bet he’s judging us,” Spook muttered. “That wolf has opinions. I can feel it.”

  “He told me he liked your scream,” I said casually, stroking Artemis’ ears. “Said it was… unique.”

  Spook looked genuinely offended. “I did not scream.”

  “You did,” Ash said. “You sounded like a bard with a stubbed toe.”

  “That’s oddly specific,” Elora noted, chuckling.

  “Personal experience,” Ash replied with a shrug. We all burst into laughter, even Spook eventually joining in, grumbling through a smile. The fear we’d felt earlier seemed far away now, softened by the fire and the teasing. We were bruised, exhausted and put together by whatever fun cosmic plan the gods had, but in this moment, we were just friends sharing warmth and stories in the dark. Our friendship increasing by the minute.

  “So,” Elora said, poking the fire with her stick, “What did we learn today?”

  “Don’t leave Spook in charge of strategy,” Ash said immediately. Elora’s stick caught flame and she tried to douse it quickly by sticking it into the water.

  “Or Elora near anything flammable,” Spook chuckled.

  “And don’t forget to tell Artemis how handsome he is,” I added, scratching behind his ear.

  Correct, Artemis said, eyes closed contentedly.

  Ash raised his hand pretending to hold a glass. “To surviving the forest and living to mock each other.”

  We all raised our imaginary glasses, or half-eaten snacks, in a toast, laughing again as the fire snapped and popped, keeping the night at bay.

  ? ? ?

  A sharp, aching pulse bloomed deep in my womb, dark and relentless, like a stormcloud tearing through my centre. My breath caught in my throat. Was this it? Was I losing my child? A tremor of sadness rippled through me.

  “I…I have to lie down,” I whispered, my voice fragile as glass. My body doubled forward, arms clutching at my middle as a wave of pain surged through me, hot and unyielding. Elora was at my side in an instant, her hands steady, her presence a soft beacon amid the storm.

  “Is it starting?” she asked, voice hushed like a prayer carried by wind. With tender urgency, she eased me down, brushing away leaves and stones, weaving moss and spare cloaks beneath me to make the earth less cruel. I nodded through clenched teeth, unable to speak as another cruel wave tore through me.

  “It hurts…” I gasped, the words torn from me like feathers in a gale. “What do I do?”

  “You breathe, dear,” Elora murmured, brushing damp hair from my brow. “Puff through it. Ride the pain like a tide. Let it break, then it will pass.”

  Ash hovered nearby, his face pale as winter’s moonlight. “What should we do?” he asked, his voice frayed.

  “We wait,” Elora said with a strength I could lean on. “Fetch clean water. A cloth. Go. Now.”

  Ash gave a quick nod, and he and Spook vanished towards the water and the tents, their urgency echoing with the snapping of twigs and the rush of feet. Artemis pushed his wet nose against my hand, comforting me. When they returned, Elora took the water and then quietly asked them to give us space. They left without protest, their silence heavy with worry.

  Night surrounded us like a velvet curtain, and I laboured beneath it. Time lost all meaning, swallowed by the pain. The stars wheeled above us bearing witness to the unravelling of a dream. And then, it was over.

  When the last spasm passed, there was so much blood that the life once within me was already hidden by it. We didn’t need words to understand. The baby, my baby, was gone.

  Shaking, I rose on legs of water and wandered toward the lakes edge. Elora didn’t stop me and went over to Ash and Spook. Artemis slowly followed me towards the water’s edge. The clean cloth to clean myself with hung limp in my hands, the bucket of water heavy with stillness. At the edge, where moonlight kissed the ripples and fireflies lit up the quiet night, I sank to my knees.

  I wrapped my arms around myself, hollow and aching, imagining the weight of a child that would never open its eyes.

  “I cannot hold you in my arms,” I whispered, tears falling freely, “but I will hold you in my heart.”

  Artemis howled to the moon. His pain clear in his voice.

  “My dear sweet little one,” I said into the night, “At first I was anxious for the future. But my love grew for you with every day I was allowed to carry you. Your dad and I would’ve loved to meet you. To see your face. Hold you in our arms. You are our baby, whether we lost you at nine days, nine weeks or nine months. You are our child…” My voice faltered.

  “And we will always be your parents,” Ash finished for me, hugging me from behind. A single sob broke free, but I let it come. I let it all come. Ash’s arms tightened around me.

  “I will spend the rest of my life waiting to meet you again…” My voice trembled, “on the other side, where endings are beginnings and time doesn’t dare exist. Where we’ll start again. Where goodbye is just a myth.”

  I could feel Ash’s tear fall on my hot skin, his pain quiet and deep.

  From the pocket of my cloak, I drew the four-leaf clover stone the Whimpsprite had gifted me. Cradling it in my palm, I pressed it to my heart, and then knelt to bury it gently near the water, where the earth was soft and sacred. Artemis placed a flower on top of it.

  “We’ll see you again, little one,” I said. With trembling hands Ash put another flower on top of it.

  And with slow, aching hands, I began to cleanse the blood and sorrow from my skin, each gesture a quiet hymn to the life I carried, the love that would never fade. The fireflies danced around me as if to tell me everything will be okay. We returned to the others not empty, but changed. Carrying our baby in our heart and no longer in my womb.