Chapter 2; Shadow And Smoke

We waited in tense silence for Father to continue.

"The villagers are right. Ferngrove is cursed," Father's words echoed in the small room, sending a chill down our spines.

Edina's reaction was palpable; her face drained of color, lips pale, and even her usual rosy cheeks devoid of their warmth. She withdrew her hand from Father's grasp, her eyes darting around the room, avoiding his gaze.

I was puzzled. What did they know that I didn't? I tried to read Edina's expression, usually an open book to me, but now it was inscrutable.

Summoning my courage, I managed to ask, "What's happening?"

"Do you remember the stories from your childhood?" Father turned to me, while Edina nodded in recognition. Memories of Mother's frightening tales and Father's warnings of a Fae lord with horns and fiery blazing eyes flooded my mind.

"He cursed the land, bringing famine for two long years before claiming his tribute," I whispered, my voice strained. "But... I thought those were just bedtime stories. Father, we've endured this famine for two years now."

 

Father solemnly confirmed, "It was a dire warning from the Fae Lord himself. Those two years were his herald, and when the famine descended, I feared my suspicions were true."

His words cast a heavy shadow over our hearts. Father descended from the lineage of Talerion, a legendary warrior who had wronged the Fae lord centuries ago by stealing a powerful stone to fuel his wars. When the Lord discovered the theft, he unleashed his wrath upon our village, seeking retribution. Yet, the stone was bound to our souls by an ancient pact, a burden only a descendant of Talerion could bear. In exchange for sparing our village, Talerion offered his own daughter, Hadesa, to the high lord—a grim tradition passed down through generations.

The Talerion lineage was cursed to sacrifice its daughters, preferably the eldest. Edina's icy demeanor now made sense; she was destined to be taken to the high lord's realm, condemned to a life of torment for the sins of our ancestors.

"No, Edina, you cannot agree to this!" I protested vehemently, anger flashing in my eyes.

"Mae, we have no choice. It's our only hope for survival," Edina pleaded, her grip on my hand trembling. She was terrified.

Edina had never borne the burdens I did. Since Mother's departure, I had shouldered the responsibilities—cleaning, cooking, hunting. I could face life's challenges, but Edina was too fragile. I had dreamed of a life of luxury for her—a grand mansion, children's laughter, and a loving husband.

But now, that dream lay shattered. Instead, she faced a future of captivity and suffering, her delicate hands a stark contrast to my calloused ones, evidence of our diverging paths.

Father remained silent, his despair weighing heavily upon us, permeating the room with sorrow that extended beyond our walls, engulfing the entire village.

A sharp knock on the door startled us. No, it couldn't be time already. This couldn't be happening. I hadn't bid her farewell properly, hadn't shared more memories of Mother, or indulged in idle gossip about the town girls. It felt like she was being torn away from us too soon. Father rose to answer the door, revealing the worn trousers of Ferdin, the village treasurer.

"What news do you bring?" Father asked, his voice strained.

"Darkness looms from the sea. All the ships at the harbor have fled, terrified of what approaches," Ferdin reported grimly.

Edina and I joined Father at the window, watching as the darkness advanced like a creeping shadow, engulfing the town, emanating from the depths of the sea. It instilled fear in the villagers, a silent warning to Father not to falter in his duty, lest Ferngrove face annihilation.

"The dark lord draws near," Ferdin intoned solemnly. "We must hasten our preparations for his coming."

***

"What are we going to do?" I murmured to Edina as I gently smoothed her golden locks. She stood before me, dressed in a simple white gown, adorned only by a delicate golden chain around her waist. Her face, usually radiant, now bore an expression of resignation.

"I don't know, Mae. Just moments ago, I was looking forward to dinner, and now I'm to be taken from home like a sack of grain," she sighed, avoiding her reflection in the mirror. "Destined to toil in some dark dungeon, watching this pristine dress decay into tatters."

My grip tightened on her shoulder. "Edina, if only there were something I could do. Perhaps we could reason with the Lord, find some alternative."

Edina shook her head, her desolation evident. "Do you think generations of Talerion chiefs haven't tried that over the centuries? The Lord is beyond reason, Mae. He's a beast."

Tears welled in my eyes as I watched Edina, once vibrant and joyful, resigned to a cursed fate. She rose from her seat as Father entered the room, his eyes swollen from tears. "They're here," he announced hoarsely.

"Father..." I began, but Edina slipped out the door, leaving me alone in the silent room, tears streaming down my cheeks.

As I stood there, the voices from beyond the door reached my ears, filled with despair. I strained to hear, hoping for a glimmer of hope. But it was clear that bargaining with the dark forces was futile.

My mind raced, grappling with the situation. How could I save Edina from this fate? Memories of our childhood flashed before me, overshadowed by the impending doom.

Determination surged within me, overriding fear. I couldn't let Edina face this alone. With trembling hands, I pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, where a somber atmosphere hung heavy.

"Father, please," I implored, my voice shaky but determined. "Let me go in her place."

Father's eyes widened in shock. "Mae, no... You can't..."

But I persisted. "I can't let Edina face this alone. I'll go willingly, if it means sparing her from this torment."

Edina turned to me, gratitude and sorrow in her eyes. "Mae, you don't have to do this..."

I shook my head, silencing her protests. "I choose this, Edina. I choose to stand in your stead. You deserve the life you've dreamed of with the blacksmith's apprentice." I half chuckled as I took her hand.

" Mae... I'll never forget this," she whispered.

"Just promise me one thing. Take care of yourself and Father, and live long and happily," I replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

With a heavy heart, I turned to Father and Ferdin, silently pleading for their understanding. As the weight of my decision settled upon me, I prepared myself for the unknown, ready to confront the darkness that awaited beyond our walls. The door creaked open before Father could fully comprehend the situation.

A figure clad in dark purple entered the room, his attire exuding an air of royalty. His impeccable trousers and regal waistcoat, paired with a sweeping black coat, seemed out of place in our humble cottage. Even his boots gleamed with an otherworldly polish. His pointy ears hinted what he was. A. Faerie.

Despite his dignified appearance, it was clear he wasn't the Lord himself. Unlike the menacing tales of the Dark Lord, this man seemed somewhat approachable, though his expression remained serious.

"Shall we, Edina?" he addressed her, but I stepped between them, drawing his attention with a furrowed brow.

"She's not going anywhere," I declared firmly.

"We've already discussed this with your father. Unless you wish to witness the blood of your kin staining the floor before meeting your own demise, I suggest you step aside," his steely gaze bore into mine.

"She's not leaving because I am," I asserted, defiance fueling my words.

The visitor turned to Father, silently demanding an explanation.

"My youngest, Maerwynn, will accompany you instead," Father conceded, his voice heavy with resignation.

The man's demeanor stiffened, irritation evident in his expression. "That was not our agreement," he countered, impatience lacing his voice.

But I remained steadfast, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "I don't care about your agreement. I can't let Edina face this alone," I declared, my voice trembling but resolute.

 Father's eyes pleaded with me, silently urging me to reconsider. Yet, I had made up my mind. I was going and no one was going to change my mind.

The man's lips tightened into a thin line, his frustration palpable. "Very well," he conceded, though his tone held a note of warning. "But know this, girl. You tread a dangerous path, one from which there may be no return."

I nodded solemnly, steeling myself for the unknown. "I understand."

With a gesture from the man, the air seemed to shimmer around us, enveloping us in an ethereal haze.

Two henchmen materialized from behind the visitor, seizing my arms with an iron grip. Edina dissolved into sobs, clutching the worn-out table in the living room, while Father remained a silent spectator as I was forcibly dragged away. A pang of betrayal coursed through me—did he truly not care about my departure? Despite my rebellious nature and penchant for trouble, I was still his child. He shed tears for Edina, yet at my departure, he seemed more relieved than sorrowful. No tears, just pity.

"Bind her," the visitor commanded, pulling my attention away from my old home to face my new captors.

"Why? What are you planning?" I shrieked, panic rising within me as one of the men brandished a knife from his belt. "No, stop, Father!" I pleaded desperately, but no rescue was forthcoming. I had made this choice myself, yet the realization offered little solace.

The knife's blade hovered at the base of my neck, drawing forth a bead of crimson. As one of the henchmen pressed a hand to my throat, leaving behind a peculiar blue stain, dizziness overcame me. My vision blurred, and I staggered, seeking support that was not forthcoming. All around me, the villagers remained hidden indoors, Father likely enjoying his evening meal, content now that he had spared his favorite daughter. I was utterly alone.

Darkness encroached upon me, suffocating and overwhelming, until I could see nothing but shadows and smoke.

"Welcome to your darkest nightmare, little Maerwynn," the visitor's chuckle echoed ominously in the abyss.