Into the Great Forest
"They are waiting for you below," Lilyana nods with a distant sigh, drawing me from my trance. Arising, she brushes herself off. I smile as she bows, her head lowered in silent understanding as stands of curly hair spill over her face. There is a sense of loss that catches in the wrinkles of her eyes, and I wince knowing once again that she will never leave this place. Pushing back her hair, she brings her fist to her chest, mustering a smile.
"Good luck, Miss Serena. May the winds guide you,"
"May the winds guide you,' I echo back, refraining from drawing my gaze once more to the stubbed wings on her back. Carefully, I anchor my sword to my waist and scoop up the glowing locket, the chain spilling between my fingers as though attempting to break free. Steeling my jaw, I pad softly over to the balcony, swinging the curtains away as I stretch out my wings into the dusky night. I look back, but Lilyana is already gone. Turning back around, I clutch the locket tighter in my hand, breathing out, suddenly afraid of losing it.
"Here goes nothing," I whisper and lift off, plunging towards the ground.
***
Ithuriel waits patiently for me on the path to the Great Forest. His back is pressed against a tall redwood, plumes of feathers folded behind him as he mulls over the little studded ring in his hand. A small way down the track two stallions whiny irritably, attached to an open aired carriage, two lanterns swinging ominously on its axel from a breeze that I couldn't quite feel. In the dusk, their white coats gleam like cat's eyes as they paw up the earth, a steady growth of trees rising before them, pricking the sky with their leafy tips. They seem afraid.
"You are later than I expected," Ithuriel sighs resentfully, clucking his tongue in disapproval, half joking. Folding my wings behind me, I draw my arms protectively around myself, shielding from the cold of the night and the despairingly thin layers of clothing swirling around my body. From how sparse the fabric is, and how little they seem to offer in the form of warmth, it seems almost pointless to me having any clothes at all. I wonder fleetingly if perhaps the vampires would like that better.
"Do you have a cloak?" I ask, my teeth chattering as an icy wind blows up between us, stirring a littered pile of red and gold leaves to dance tragically across the ground. The wind howls, the sky growing darker still as the clouds scurry to hide the last of the light in their baleful claws. He sighs once more, drawing himself upright as he pockets his ring, then pulls off his fur cloak, revealing his warrior division attire underneath. He holds it out to me, waiting.
"You can have mine," he insists languorously, dangling the coat in front of me on the tips of his long fingers. I frown.
"But that's yours," I try to protest, but my voice comes out shaky with the cold. Silently, I curse myself for being so thin skinned. He shakes the coat again.
"I'm not going to need it once I am a fox anyway," he reminds me, rolling his eyes jokingly. "Besides, I'd feel better if you weren't so… exposed." Silence.
"Shut up," I grumble at last, but take the coat anyway, bundling it around myself in a cocoon of warmth. Lifting up my hand shakily, I hold up the locket to him. "Will you?" I ask tentatively. For a moment, and only for a moment, he hesitates, his eyes tracing the chains dangling from my fingers, settling on the thick blood that swirls inside the swinging pendant. Mesmerizing. I struggle to decipher the look on his face, his eyes are motionless, his face pallid and twisted with an expression I find myself unable to pronounce.
"With pleasure," he affirms a last, pausing a little too long to be considered normal. Catching my hand in his, he draws the locket from my fingers. The golden chains slip from my grasp, running out of my hand like water through your fingers. For a moment I savour the warmth of his touch, fleeting and gentle. For all I know he might not be human for a long time now, so I spend a moment soaking in the planes of his face, the sparkle in his eyes. Then it is gone as he brings his hands around my neck, fastening the pendant will a little satisfying click. A sickening wave washes over me as the unusual lightness settles on my back once more. Dread settles in my stomach, thick and heavy.
"How do I look?" I ask, pulling the cloak tighter around myself as cold air seeps into the hollow spaces left by the absence of my wings. Ithuriel thinks for a moment, studying me with his two toned eyes that shimmer with good humour.
"Elvish," he decides with a nod, gently pulling back a wisp of my hair. "And completely flightless," he adds with a smirk, stretching out his wings as if in mockery, putting his hands on his hips. The devilish smile that plays on his face is good humoured and friendly, but that doesn't make me want to let him get away with the comment any less. I punch his arm lightly.
"So will you be soon," I huff, but not angrily, pacing over the carriage that's stacked high with cases that teeter in the wind. The stars twinkle and the moonlight streams down onto the well ridden path ahead of us. I can see where the scattering of silver fillings stop at the edge of the treeline, the wards glowing brilliantly against the pitch black of the Great Forest. It seems almost like a dream, walking towards the entrance of the forest, my feet sluggish beneath me, body heavy with a weight that might be from the fear or the cold or both. I take a hurried glance in the distance behind us, where the floating isle of the angels are just barely visible. I wouldn't be back here for a long while. Ithuriel falls into step with me, and I breathe out airily, turning back to the miles of forest that lay ahead of us, barely illuminated by the occasional lantern that glistens among the trees. Somewhere, a fox screams.
"We will be there by morning," Ithuriel smiles, giving me a reassuring pat on my back as he takes the stallion's reins in his hands. He volts himself into the carriage. I climb up the steps and sprawl myself among the heavy piles of cases, half relishing the fact that I no longer have to worry about crushing my wings beneath the weight of my body. Trailing a finger over the leather binding of a particularly large box, I wonder faintly what is in them all. Hopefully a few stakes and some silver weapons, I think, and gulp. My magic is strong, but not strong enough to ward off a city of vampires strong.
"Stop worrying," Ithuriel sighs, exasperated from the front of the carriage. Even in the darkness of the night, I catch a glimpse of the whiteness of his knuckles as he grips onto the reins, the inky parlour of his hair slowly turning from white to black. The reins lash out with a heavy crack. I jolt forward as the horses bound into motion, dust heaving from the ground behind as the wheels of the carriage spin up the earth. I put a hand on the side to steady myself. Trees whiz past in blur. The tiny giggling laughs of pixies cling in my ears for a second, then are whipped away with the rest of the world. The dense trees form a heavy atmosphere around us, the undergrowth heaving with tiny, furry creatures and the red eyes of the dwarven hobgoblins. The Great Forest is a dangerous place to be at night, or any time for that matter. It is home to all manner of creatures, a place of parties and revels, and of death and decay. Where elves hunt cheerily on winged stags and nymphs frolic through streams and dense ferns, their watery laughs echoing through the air like the soft crash of a distant waterfall. It is a place where vampires turn into shadows, and shadows turn into vampires. A place where it is not improbable to find a Queen and her knight with boxes full of knives and iron filings and swords strapped at their sides. Heaving a sigh, I sink deeper into the warm confines of the cloak, watching as Ithuriel's hair whips out behind him, slowly turning black to gold.