Spring

I loved her so much that I entered the misty wood to find her.

Never would I have done so to save myself. If I had been in her place, I would have simply accepted my fate, accepted the claws scraping their way into my chest, plucking my full red heart, rolling it around on playful fingertips. But she had always been braver than I.

When she shoved through the crowd, I watched with stone eyes, knowing well where she would go. It did not matter that she ran the opposite direction. She was clever. I knew.

So I went through the routine, my hands swaying, my mouth smiling, though my thoughts trailed her, told her I would be along soon. I barely heard my father announce my apprenticeship with the musicians, barely noticed the blood drip from my mother’s furious clenched fists, barely felt the rune sear into my flesh. “Wait for me,” I whispered under the hiss of the boiling blade.

Often did I wonder what it would be like to run through the dark without any spying eyes but the great crows’. That night, after my parents slept, I found out. That night I understood her better than I ever had.

The stars blurred as I hurried through the streets, into the fields. I kicked off my slippers, left them, feeling the cool grass. Only once did I look back. Not in regret, but to finally see the silver city’s pulsing glow. It glared as I turned and ran on.

The fact that I had entered the Verdunkeln struck me after I had waded through the fog for several minutes. Sharp branches slashed the moon. Off to my sides, blue and red lights drifted between the trees, calling to me. I would have gone to them if she had not ruled my thoughts.

Shrieks and chatters pierced the gloom. Shadows turned their heads. It mattered not. The Keln knew the importance of my mission. Knew I could not dally.

What will we do? I wondered. Will she return with me, or will I run off with her? I do not know which I would have preferred.

The air grew oily, smelled of brine. Had I neared the fishing village?

I would never know. The night sky stretched down its legs and stood before me. I lifted my gaze but could not discern its head in the dark expanse above the trees. On its shoulders sat a girl, swinging her legs. I thought I had found her, but no, the hair, the eyes were too dark, the flesh too pale.

My every nerve, from fingertips to toes, shrank and condensed to a single pit in my stomach, just behind the rune. How could something be so immense? How could I be so small? Next to it, I was nothing, a speck of a speck of pollen in an endless churning sea.

Somehow I introduced myself and asked for her. It did not speak. The pale girl did not speak. I do not think she meant me harm when she smiled, but her grin seemed never to end, and I sank up into the void.

When I woke it was to the most intense pain I had ever felt. I thought it the wound from the ritual. But the wound was gone, eaten by the magpie and other things pecking at my stomach. They had already consumed much of me. I could not yell. I could not make a sound.

But then I heard his breath, like a slow, heavy swarm of bees. The beasts did not hesitate to flee.

An orange ray of dawn probed through the trees and found his glimmering eyes as he walked toward me, bearded, strong, though it took little strength to lift what was left of me. He carried me to a cave and washed my face with water from a stream.

“You will live again,” he said, cradling my head. “But not for a long time.” He removed his goggles, wiped his forearm across his face, and attempted a smile.

I could say nothing. I could only hope that she was all right. Then my eyes closed.

I’d always heard that when you die everything goes black. But it doesn’t. Everything goes red. But, ha, I guess you already know that. Don’t you.

Do you already know of the mysteries surrounding Strange Harbor? If not, read about them here.