A Curse So Dark and Twisted

We are composed of a junk drawer we carry around in our souls. We’re made of baggage we can’t let go of. Some of us pack light, while others drag around every memory they’ve ever had or thing they wish they’d said. Some, more than others, hoard every regret, slight, tear or unwilling parting in life like a troll under a bridge with his precious trinkets. We all have odds and ends hanging off our souls. Some of us just pack it differently. The trick is learning to carry that baggage the best we can while figuring out how to unpack it and face what we’ve towed around from place to place, person to person. That’s what healing forces a person to do—dump it out and sit on the floor with all the broken pieces you haven’t been willing to face or throw away, deciding what to take and what to leave behind. Sometimes we do the same thing with people or places we once loved. We let them go. We move on. We choose to become better versions of the person who had a death grip on all the junk that kept us in the moments of yesterday.

Unpacking my baggage was what coming to Whitwick was supposed to do for us all. It would let us look into the black hole we all carried on our backs and take pieces out, brick by brick, using them to build the foundation of a new future…a new beginning. Instead, we used those bricks to beat each other bloody. No one was safe from the anger or blame, and everyone was at fault. The Guardians of Whitwick hadn’t protected the people, only their own children. The children marked for the Taking didn’t leave fast enough and caused the deaths of those who didn’t need to die. The Fae tormented more than they needed to. A Crow, in their mind, had broken the Gate, and now Fae could roam as they pleased. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t the one who had done it. I was still responsible because, somehow, I hadn’t stopped it. It was easier to unload the bricks of the past onto someone else than to let go of them. And every time I came to Whitwick to repair the wounds, it felt like new wounds opened, fresh reasons to bleed for Whitwick Gates.

“I’d rather be holding my own guts in with my bare hands while I crawled through the caves of the Winter Court, being ridden like a pony,” I muttered to Nix and motioned to the room. “Anything over this.”

“There’s no place like home,” Nix whispered from my shoulder as we watched the arguing unfold before us as though we weren’t even present. We were currently back on the topic of recreating a Gate that was no longer there. It always came back to the Gate. “Remember when I told you I wanted to return to our garden after the war? I take it back. I don’t like being here any more than you do.”

I nodded my agreement. I didn’t want our garden this bad, either. I leaned back in my chair and tried to sigh past the anxiety this place brought me, but I could never get a deep breath in the mortal world. Jare, one of Zephyr’s men, stood behind my chair. His eyes never stayed still. He scanned the room, his legs apart, arms folded casually but ready to grab any unfortunate soul who reached for me. He looked terribly out of place, towering over us all. But he was pretty relaxed under the Fae threat that was rolling off him. A decade in the bowels of Blood and Bones, tortured and broken daily, made everything else look like a walk in the park to him. Coming to Whitwick was supposed to heal wounds, but neither Zephyr nor Solas felt comfortable with me going anywhere by myself, let alone to a different realm. Jare glanced down once with a smirk that said it all. He saw this for what it was—a game of blame, an endless talk in circles. And by the time we were done each time and I returned home to Elphame, I was weaker, exhausted, drained of magick, and it seemed like we hadn’t done anything more than find new wounds.

“I feel like I’ve been cursed to suffer, first as a mortal and now as Fae,” I whispered to Nix. Hearing the words come from my mouth made them feel more real—heavier and sharper.

I rubbed the cramps that had started in my thighs from having sat in one position for too long and watched a dozen red-faced mortals attack each other with venomous words, each meaning more harm than the last. They were no different than Fae around a war table, who haggled over whose threat of bloodshed carried the most weight. Here, they argued over who had suffered the greatest and who held the most blame for it. Mortals could be just as hateful and vengeful as the Fae, if not more.

I had watched for hours and added nothing more than a head shake or nod. Nix hadn’t bothered to say a single word. They didn’t like him any more than they did me. I was too Fae and Nix was too small for either of us to matter. Why I was there had nothing to do with what I could offer and more about what they could blame me for and demand I do—both of which were ridiculous. It had been like this for weeks and only worsened with each visit. I hadn’t expected my homecoming to be celebrated, but I certainly hadn’t been expecting the hate my arrival had caused. They had no idea what I had given up and endured for their survival. Nothing I said would change how they saw me. I was Fae. I was one of them, part of the problem.

Whenever I tried to speak, to add to the conversation, they accused me of lying to protect them, the Fae. I was either too Fae to care about man’s plight or too young to understand. Or, as I had been told to my face only moments ago, it was because I was the whore of Elphame. They had conveniently forgotten I had once been dragged through the Gate and that I’d given my life to save Whitwick from the plight they accused me of not understanding. Crows in the mortal realm got about the same level of respect as they did in Elphame…none. It had taken the death of a king, escape, wars and the killing of a Royal Seer before anyone in Elphame had looked at me with anything more than contempt in their eyes. I wondered if the same would apply in the mortal world. I didn’t want to do here what I’d had to do in Elphame to earn an inch of regard. Mankind wouldn’t survive how Fae gained respect.

When I’d signed up to help mend the fence between realms, the scared butterflies in my stomach had told me that coming here would become the war of broken souls. While no one remembered I had taken the same walk of fate that so many before me had, that I’d survived and was living there was all that mattered around this table. No one cared that I suffered whenever I came to Whitwick, only that I chose to stay with the Fae. And after our first meeting weeks before, I would rather be in the middle of a bloody battle on the fields of Elphame than this. Out there, in the trenches, I had a better chance of winning. Here, the four walls around us felt like a prison, where the captives fought each other to the death for scraps of meat. I was the meat, and I didn’t like the looks on their faces.

My eye finally started to twitch in frustration when the same question was asked of me. “For, quite literally, the hundredth time, I can’t bring back the Gate. I can’t repair it. I can’t bend it back into shape. I can’t glue it or tie it. It’s gone. I tried to fix it, but it’s gone.” My voice rose over the back and forth arguing. “I don’t know how else to say it in a way you’ll understand. It. Is. Gone.”

“Try something else.” The man to my right nudged me. “Maybe we can help?”

“I appreciate that, but it’s actually gone. I don’t mean that it’s so broken I consider it gone and of no use. I mean, when we pass between realms, it’s not there. It’s an empty patch of grass. It’s gone and isn’t coming back,” I answered. “We only still call it the Gate because there is no other name we use for the point between worlds. But rest assured, there is no Gate to speak of. It no longer exists. It rusted and blew away in the wind.”

“Can you do a spell to bring it back?”

“No, I can’t. I can’t call one from thin air or build one from scratch. I don’t even know how or if it’s possible.” I looked to my father, who sat at the end of the table and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I will do what I can to help, but I can’t do what you’re asking me. I’m not powerful enough. It took three Darkmore witches to build it and an original on the other side, who is dead, to sing a Gate to life with Elphame magic. I am one Darkmore witch and can’t sing to save my life. Bring me an idea that can work, and I’ll be more than happy to help. Until then, we’re beating a dead dog.”

“I bet you’d do it if Elphame wanted it,” another spoke up.

I whipped my head to face the commenter and glanced down the table. “No, I wouldn’t, and I couldn’t. You’re not hearing me. I’m not saying that I don’t want to do it. I’m telling you I can’t do it. I’m not powerful enough. And quite frankly, I don’t care who is asking. The answer will remain the same, no matter what.”

“You’re the reason it’s gone. Fix what you did!” he yelled.

I wanted to snap back and tell them it wasn’t my fault, but I didn’t. The silence was easier. If they knew Solas had played a part in breaking the Gate, this would stop being a conversation and move straight to pickaxes and shovels. Solene, Solas’ sister, was given all the blame, and they couldn’t ask for her head because she was already dead. Soon, I feared, it wouldn’t matter what I said or how hard I tried to keep them from marching into Elphame with war on their minds. They would spill blood eventually. Fear would drive them to stupidity. It did that to all of us, mortal and Fae.

“I’m sorry this has happened,” I finally stated. And I was. If I were in their position, I’d be terrified right now.

“It’s easy to be sorry when you’re not the one at risk. You have no idea what removing that Gate has done. While everyone else fears what will come next, you sit in your castle.”

“The Gate didn’t save any of us…ever. It didn’t do a damn thing to protect mortals. It certainly didn’t keep me from suffering. And it didn’t save me in Elphame, where I fought every day to keep you all alive. Now, there are oaths to protect you, Fae armies that will protect you,” I replied. “Arguing isn’t going to solve any of our problems. We need to move forward. It was never the Gate that saved us. It was oaths. Now, there are new ones, and the Taking of mortals, for any reason, is prohibited.”

“What about those who are not protected?” he asked. “You can’t save everyone.”

“Every mortal is protected,” my father interrupted. “No one has been left out of the oaths.”

Nix groaned and flopped down on my shoulder as the bickering continued. “It doesn’t matter what you say, Perdi. People see and hear whatever they want. It’s hard to move forward when you’re as scared of the future as you are of the past.”

The room grumbled. The man who swore up and down that the Fae would forget to protect everyone stood and faced the room. “Maybe we should be calling on a different witch, one that’s not Fae?”

I almost screamed at his comment. All that would do was cause more problems for Whitwick than we were currently shoveling. “First, sir, witches are part Fae. It is what gives us the ability to use Elphame magic. There are no other full-blooded witches out there, because the mortal world saw to their execution all those years ago. But call on whoever you’d like. It won’t help you do something that can’t be done. I am the last Darkmore. There is no witch stronger than my bloodline. And if I can’t do it, no one can.”

My father lifted his hands to the argument beginning again. “All right, everyone. I hear what you’re saying. I feel the fear myself. But we will need to think of a different way. The Gate cannot be rebuilt, and Perdi is not powerful enough, on her own, to build a new one. Think on it over the next week, and when we reconvene, we will discuss alternatives.”

The room cleared with bickering, as it had the last time I had come and the time before—mumbles that I wasn’t welcome in Whitwick, that I had no right to discuss the fate of their people and wishes that I hadn’t survived the Taking. Fear and anger were potent fertilizers for hate. I could feel the pressure slowly building and knew it would boil over sooner or later into a mess no one could clean up. Not even I could fix what would be coming. I could feel it like an unspoken promise. Their fear would push them to become creative.

“Six hours of useless arguing over the same thing…the Gate,” I griped from the table. “And in those hours, we got nowhere. I don’t know how many ways I can say the same thing before they believe me.”

“It’s hard to see the truth when they want a lie so badly,” Nix answered. “They want the Gate back. When you’ve lived your entire life being told a chunk of metal is what protected you from the monsters, you live and breathe that truth. They think another one will protect them.”

“Unlike the hundreds of years before, when it didn’t do a damn thing to save anyone. We still died,” I countered. I dropped my head to the table and groaned into the wood. My head was pounding from lack of sleep, hunger, irritation and being away from Elphame for too long.

“This is true, but at least they knew when it was coming, Perdi. Right now, they fear it can be any day,” Nix answered.

“They don’t want Fae coming into the mortal lands.” My father lifted me from the table and pulled me standing into a hug. “I appreciate you being here, but I don’t think we’ll solve this problem unless we return to the way things were.”

“They don’t want things back to the way they were, either. That wasn’t living. That was waiting to die,” I replied. “What they want is a reality that isn’t possible. It isn’t something anyone can give them, not even me. They want Elphame to go away, and it isn’t going to. Fae are here to stay, as much as mortals are. And I don’t know how to keep the two worlds apart.”

“I know, but we had better find a solution soon before meetings won’t stop what’s coming,” he replied.

“Fools.” I groaned. I knew what would come. Mortals always reached higher than their grasp, thinking some God would catch them on their way down. God wouldn’t, but Fae would—and it would be a bloody mess.

“I agree.” He kissed my forehead. “Nix, always a pleasure.”

Nix popped out of my hair and shook my father’s hand. “Good night, sir.”

“Let’s go home, Nix, Jare.” I turned from my dad, my shoulders slumped and knotted with tension.

“It’s okay, Perdi. We’ll find a way. You’ll find a way. It may not be what each side will want, but you’ll figure it out.” Nix hopped off my shoulder, and Jare and I followed him to the Gate, passing the Elphame guards. Each gave Nix a sly wave and Jare and me a tip of the head.

“You have more faith in me than I do,” I replied. I stopped on the other side of the Gate and breathed in Elphame. Each time I went back and forth, it got a little easier, but I always felt better once I came back. “I’ll never get used to being there…not really. It feels awful, like I’m sick and spent hours running myself into the ground. Even my muscles hurt.”

“Homesick,” Nix answered. “That’s what you’re feeling. We all feel it when we leave Elphame. And that, unfortunately, never goes away.”

“Did you feel like this every day you were with me, before I became a Crow?” I asked.

“It got easier, like it will for you. I doubt you’ll have to get used to it, though. Their dislike for you grows every time we go. There may come a time when it isn’t safe for you to step into the mortal world.”

“I can’t shake this sinking feeling in my gut. If we don’t find a solution, mortals will find it and die because of it.”

“I have the same feeling, Perdi. Desperation breeds ingenuity. But mortals will never be as clever or as brutal as Fae…and that scares me more. You’re the only Fae here who loves them and can forgive them for their words and hate.”

I called the shadows, who wrapped around us and brought us to the front door of my home with Solas. They didn’t linger as they usually did. They could feel my defeat and would go report back to Zephyr, who, without a doubt, could already feel it. Whenever I left, they always told Zephyr of my condition upon my return.

‘Protective’ wasn’t the word. Zephyr was terrified something would happen to me but tried hard not to show it. Deep down, I think he was more scared for those around me if they touched me or threatened me. He feared Elphame learning what I was, to the point that he ran me through training on what to do if they called me a Soul-Eater out loud. After I killed them and anyone who heard, I had to go to his island and call on him. He and Solas would set fire to the rest of Elphame. We’d wait it out with those we loved from the safety of our home. When I had laughed at his suggestion, he’d made it clear how serious he was. No one could know there were two of us. Solas wasn’t any help on the matter. He liked the flames and kept a stock of marshmallows for the day we’d burn the world. We’d toast them on our way out.

“Do you ever get the feeling that no matter what you do, it isn’t going to help?” I asked Nix.

“Yes. And it usually means it won’t,” Nix answered. “What does your gut tell you?”

“That it’s going to get worse, and if I keep trying to help, I’m going to be in the middle of it.”

“Then perhaps it’s time you stop before you’re eyeballs deep and choices you don’t want to make are forced upon you. Between the mortal and Fae world isn’t a good place to be for any reason. Sorry, Perdi, but you’re not mortal anymore. Maybe having a Fae help them isn’t what they need or want. Unfortunately, I think you’re more of a reminder of what could come for their children than you are a support,” he continued. “Regardless of the ‘maybes’, this is a hard place for you. Knowing that it doesn’t matter what choices you make, you’ll never make everyone happy. I’m sorry, Perdi. I wish they could remember who you are and not see you as what they fear.”

I nodded. Nix was right, but I had difficulty convincing my soul that he was. I rubbed the center of my chest, trying to massage out the worry I felt. “Thank you for coming with me. I hate being there.”

“Anytime, Perdi. I’ve got to run. Good night.” Nix took his leave. “Are you coming, Jare? You said you’d help if I gave you jam.”

I jumped and turned around. “Sorry, Jare. I forgot you were still here. Wear a bell or something. You’re too quiet.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiled. “Good night, Miss Darkmore.”

“Perdi,” I corrected him, but it was better than his usual ‘ma’am’ or ‘my lady’. “Where are you both off to?”

“We’re helping Orrian,” Nix answered. “She needs a few small trees moved. She says they’re blocking the sun from her window. I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

“Send Orrian my love,” I called to them both and stepped into the manor.

The moment I closed the door, I felt secure. It felt like the rest of the world could be crumbling around us, but my life would go on without a care. This was the only place in either world where I felt like nothing could pull me in every other direction. I was just Perdi here—nothing more, nothing less. And as I breathed in the scent of home, the pressure in my shoulders lifted away.

“I can feel you, Zeph,” I whispered as I walked from the front door. “Why are you skulking in the shadows?”

“I wasn’t skulking. I planned to leave you be, but you smell of sadness. I wanted to make sure you were all right.” Zephyr stepped out of the darkness along the wall with a soft smile. He could blend into any corner, and you’d never know he was there until he wanted you to. But for me, I could feel him through our shared pearls, our souls. “I heard your meeting went as well as the last one did.”

“Your shadows move quickly,” I replied.

“From your lips to my ears.”

“It didn’t go well, but it never does. It feels hopeless.” I answered and leaned against the wall opposite him.

“Why do you still go if you lack hope?”

I shrugged. “The situation feels hopeless, but I don’t feel that…not yet.”

“Always the bleeding heart,” he answered and pushed off the wall. “Be careful, little Crow. I do not trust them.”

I laughed. “I don’t think you trust anyone, Zeph. But why don’t you trust mortals?”

“Mortal or not, I don’t trust those who believe they have nothing to lose,” he replied and stepped around me to the door. “Just be cautious.”

“I will,” I answered. “Where are you off to?”

“Orrian needs help,” he answered. “Since I was already close by, I offered.”

I smiled at the simplicity of his answer. For how difficult life could be in Elphame, the smallest things made me smile ear to ear. I was already picturing Zephyr lifting trees out of the ground with Orrian and Nix barking orders, because I knew damn well that Nix would enjoy ordering the Aos Si around. Nix was small but mighty. “I thought you weren’t working tonight? Why were you here?”

“I’m never not working, Perdi. I just choose where I work,” he answered, then paused at the door. “Something feels off. I came to talk to Solas about it.”

“Something is always off in Elphame. Can you be more specific?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. In my gut, it feels like the eve of war. Like something big is coming, and I don’t know what it is. It feels like I’ve overlooked something important.”

“That’s an uncomfortable thought,” I replied. I tilted my head and asked the same question I had asked him every day since the Last War. “Have you found Solene’s body yet?”

“No. The Seers didn’t take it from the field but have agreed to continue searching for her,” he answered. “Rest easy. Solene is not a flavor any of us could forget, and she is not who I feel.”

“Damn. I was hoping it would be a simple solution for once.” I cringed. I knew that feeling well. “Are we heading into some war I don’t know about?”

He grinned. “We’re always inches from war, little Crow. Stay close to home, for now. Training for tomorrow and the next few days is canceled until I figure this out. I don’t have a good feeling.”

“Has your gut ever been wrong?”

“No,” he replied.

“I trust your gut more than my own. It’s going to hurt like hell, isn’t it?” A shiver ran down my spine.

Zephyr leaned into me and breathed me in like he was trying to find his way home in my smell. “This unease… You feel it too, don’t you? I feel the beginnings of it on your pearl. I can feel your anxiety and panic like you’re ready to run but don’t know which direction to head in.”

“I don’t know. I thought it was just Whitwick, but it’s more than that. I feel worried but can’t put my finger on the exact reason I feel that way. It feels like when I have to make a decision I don’t want to make, and I’m searching blindly for a different answer,” I answered. “I have to meet with my father tomorrow afternoon. Do you want me to cancel? It’s just lunch, but I could ask him to come here if you’d like?”

“Not yet, but don’t go alone,” he answered. “First sign of trouble…”

“Burn them to the ground,” I answered.

“You sound like Solas.” He frowned. “Run, Perdi.”

“Or run.” I smiled.

“Speaking of, I had better run as well. Orrian has trees to move, and my being late is not something the little queen would tolerate. She would take it as an insult,” he said. He turned his icy stare to mine. “Perdi, if your gut tells you to burn them to the ground, do it. Don’t hesitate. Always save yourself, no matter the cost. There will never be a cost greater than losing you, so do what you must. We’ll clean up the mess later, when you’re safe.”

“Good night, Zeph,” I called out as he left.

I moved through the halls to the dining room, which was finally repaired and had all its windows, no thanks to mine and Solas’ tempers—though, I hadn’t minded the breeze. One window had been fixed with smashed shards. Tiny veins of silver held the glass together like a scar. It reminded us of what we could lose at a moment’s notice. Each time the sun shone through the scarred glass and cast rainbows on the table, it told the story of what we could endure for our family. It didn’t matter what came for us. We’d always find a way back home.

I stopped at the entry to the dining room and watched Solas at the table, rifling through his paperwork. He looked calm, but I could feel the waves of frustration pouring from him, as he could likely feel mine. He smiled without looking up. I smiled in return.

“Are you spying on me, little Crow?” he asked.

I walked to the table. “Perhaps. I’m sure your secrets would fetch a pretty penny on the open market.”

“I have ways to keep you quiet.” He pulled me into his lap with a laugh and kissed me.

“Please tell me it’s a prison, and you’re locking me away for the next year.” I tucked myself into his chest and breathed him in. “You smell like pine needles and moss and…sugar?”

“I took the long way home. I needed to clear my head,” he answered. “I ran into Zephyr’s pixies, and they attacked. Did you know there was a clan living behind the house? They said Zephyr gave them permission to live here.”

“Yeah.” I laughed. “Zeph built them a house when they were displaced during the war to close the Gate.”

“They’re worse than fairies,” he grumbled, but I saw through it, and he grinned. “They were a nice distraction until they shot arrows at me and chased me into your morose garden in the back.”

“Do you want to talk about what sent you walking from Blood and Bones in order to face off against the angry butterflies?” I asked.

“Angry butterflies?” He laughed and tickled my knees until I screamed.

“I surrender! You’re a dirty fighter.” I squirmed. “What has you all wound up?”

“I heard you and Zephyr speaking in the hall. That’s pretty much it. He’s stressed about something but doesn’t know what it is. It makes me uncomfortable when he senses something off. When he worries, it’s worth paying attention to. And you are as wound up as Zephyr is,” he continued. “Do you want to talk about your day?”

I shrugged. “There isn’t much to say. It was the same as every other time, only with more anger. Whitwick wants what can’t be done, and it makes me nervous for what they’ll try to do in place of that Gate.”

“I’m sorry. Going home shouldn’t be so stressful.”

“I’m home now,” I answered. “Whitwick isn’t my home anymore.”