Page 31 of The Forbidden Fae King

The stone road leads through a tunnel of gnarled, ancient trees. Their trunks are wider than a man, covered in spongy moss. Their twisted branches reach up to the heavens and white blossoms covermany of the canopies, alongside green sprays of new growth. Rocky outcrops occupy the spaces between the great, snaking roots.

The trek gets much harder in the forest, on a path that has dips and divots, corroded in places, all at a steady incline. I am short on breath as we near our destination.

Not a single woman breaks the formation, not to utter a word or lag behind. This procession is part of the ceremony, symbolizing the journey we are to take. That while we cannot speak to each other, we take this pilgrimage together. There is a strange comfort in that. I am a part of something larger than myself.

Every so often, Caitlin reaches behind and squeezes my arm, if just to reassure herself that I am still there. That she isn’t doing this alone.

The broad path cuts through a narrow valley between two sharp, rocky hills. All those stones and boulders on either side of us seem to be held in place by roots thicker than my arms. Ropey vines hang high over our heads and small ferns grow out of alcoves.

The damp coolness of the forest seeps into my skin, as though spring has not quite arrived here. I pull my cloak tighter, convincing myself it is the air that makes me shiver and not my nervousness.

We pass under the first stone arch, spanning over the road. It has three mermaids chiseled into it, with shells, seawater and fae runes all around them. An ornamental gateway that once honored the Summer Court of the fae.

I hungrily examine every detail as I step under it, despite the chill of foreboding that ripples through my skin.

The next arch represents the autumn court, with engraved leaves scattered around fae with butterfly wings. Winter has a single beautiful woman, completely naked and removing a seal skin from her body, with another selky still in its seal form beside her, snowflakes drifting around them.

A tremor runs through me at the last arch. The Spring Court of the fae, my destination. Something draws me there. Something I cannot quite put my finger on. A massive Cú Sídhe is chiseled in mid-leap across the top of the gate, its skeletal maw wide open and its mossy fur appearing to ripple. Flowers bloom all around it.

The path opens to the Moonstone Labyrinth.

Our procession of priestesses and pilgrims funnel into the huge grassy bowl, cut straight into the surrounding hills of slate and into the circle of stones. Each set of arches and pillars in the circle are cut from immense rectangular slabs. The granite sparkles every shade of grey, with much of its area covered in yellow lichen.

Druids and priestesses line the inside of that stone circle, white robes intermingled with brown, facing The Tower.

My heart skips as the high priestess, my grandmother, takes center of place at the foot of The Tower. I drag my eyes up and up to the top of that tower.

An ancient staircase wraps around its outside, and the strongest magic wielders of the druids and priestesses climb its height.

The Tower is completely hollow, its exterior walls are rows upon rows of arches, and those mages on the stairs are visible through them even when they are on the opposite side of the building. Already figures wait on the platform roof, circling the jade plinth sparkling in the sunlight.

I gather before the high priestess with the other pilgrims, every step made as though through water.

It is then that I hear the music. It is wild and free.

Voices sing in a language I do not recognize, accompanied by the sorrowful sounds of flutes. It comes from the druids that encircle us. Beyond them, outside of the circle of stone arches, are our spectators and supporters. Our loved ones, the court of the Appleshield Protectorate and the royal court.

“The blessing upon you who dare make this pilgrimage to the Otherworld,” the high priestess echoes through the valley, her words projecting through an air wield. “Your sacrifices, your strength and bravery will save our kingdom. All of you gathered here will enrich our realm with precious magic. May the grace of the old gods protect you and speed your steps back to us. When you return, you shall be initiated into the order of the priestesses.”

Caitlin takes my hand and squeezes it. The other pilgrims around me sigh.

“Let the opening ceremony begin!” The high priestess raises her arms directly above her shoulders and tips her head back, ivory and pearl bracelets jingling. My grandmother shoots duel shafts of lightning into the air, dancing and crackling with intense light, then gone a moment later.

Our family never puzzled out where her rare magic originated from.

The fae of the autumn court where my father descends from have the magic of fire and destructive earth. Winter court fae wield ice and water. Spring court fae specialize in creation earth magic and spring rains. The Summer Court fae wield wildfires and sandstorms. All have varying dominions over air magic. None I have read about wield lightning.

All human magic comes from mixing our blood with the fae’s, and there must be more courts that we do not know of.

My gaze travels to the apex of The Tower. The jade plinth glows softly, building in intensity. Magic wielders surround it, mere silhouettes that fuel jets of raw magic into the plinth.

Thick white beams whip out from their forms, glittering with the colors of the rainbow. The light around them intensifies, blinding in its radiance until the people are no longer visible.

I force my eyes away, and black auras dance across my visual field. A knot forms in my throat and a vice clenches my chest.

The melody of the druid’s incantation increases in speed and intensity, those voices growing louder until they reach a deafening note.

The jade plinth explodes green light across the valley.

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