Page 61 of House of Ydril

Moswen leans forward and practically whispers, “Imagine a fae that doesn’t let herself be limited by our society.” There’s a glimmer in her eyes as she says it and her words make shivers travel down my spine. “One that has ventured so deeply into the Great Unknowns of Divine Magic that she’s practically one with nature. That’s Dame Gothel.”

Perfect, I think to myself. As if going to Faust wasn’t enough. “Andthat’swho you want me to ask for help?” I ask with a feeling of dread wrapping around my entire body.

“Help?” she says with a laugh. “No need to worry about that. If she agrees to give you what you want, it’ll be for a price.”

“So comforting,” I blurt out, wondering what the hell I’m getting myself into. But it was only a few moments ago that I decided I’d approach this whole situation with a lot more courage and determination.

So I guess this is the universe’s way of saying, “Fuck you, you asked for it yourself”.

Chapter twenty-seven

It’sthedeadofnight and every sound you make echoes through the deserted hallways with such smug vengeance, but Nuala and I still manage to get to the Door without anyone seeing us. It’s the one by the statue of the Frog King, one of only two spots on the castle grounds that allow you to use the Pull.

And it’s not forbidden for students to use them, provided you do it before curfew and fill out a form, informing the Faculty of the reason for your departure, the expected time of return and so on and so forth.

And it’s not like I can write ‘visiting the witch from Rapunzel’. So we take advantage of the cover that the night provides.

“Sure you want to do this?” Nuala asks when we stop before the Door.

“Sure you want to come with?”

She lets out a sigh, but she nods. We approach the Door in silence. It’s just a strange shimmer in the night air that you have to walk into. And if you don’t want it to spit you out someplace random, you have to tell it where you want to go.

Squeezing the bag in which I’m carrying the diary, I take Nuala by the hand and we nod at each other. The woods at the edge of the world, I think to myself as I let the current drag me in.

The Pull turns out to be just as awful as the first time I used it. Once we’re on the other side, I take a few wobbly steps to the side to puke my guts out. I hear Nuala doing the same.

But when I straighten up and look around, I forget all about the lingering queasiness in my stomach. The gasp that comes from Nuala’s mouth tells me she’s just as dumbfounded.

The woods in which we find ourselves is deep and dark, the thick, gnarly trees barely letting any moonlight through. Still, there’s a strange glow to it all, as if everything around us is part of a single beating heart.

I only snap out of it when Nuala jabs me with her elbow. I turn to her, mouthing ‘What’.

She points at the gigantic tree right in front of us. It’s by far the largest, so large, in fact, that someone has made it their home. At least judging by one door and two windows fitted into its trunk.

And just as we stare at it, the tree starts glowing brighter and I feel eyes on me, from everywhere around me. I grab Nuala’s hand, but nothing happens.

At least until a few seconds later, when I hear a creak and the door slowly opens, making my heart skip a beat. I squint to see better, but there’s no one standing next to it. Or behind it.

I gesture for Nuala to keep silent. I draw in a breath and I dig the diary out of my bag. Once Moswen is in front of us, I gesture at the door, not saying a word as I do it.

Moswen takes a quick look, turns back to me and says, in a voice that doesn’t seem to be hiding fear, “She’s invited you inside.”

“Oh.”

I turn to look at Nuala, determination on my face. She seems to be just as ready as I am.

We slowly approach the house and walk inside. The interior is rough, but pleasant. There’s a straw bed in one corner and a table with a single chair in the other. The center of the room is dominated by a hearth that seems to grow out of the back of the tree itself. The coals in it are softly crackling, burning with the same glow as the forest itself, just stronger. It makes me frown, thinking there’s something strange going on here.

And just as I think that, I imagine that the coals have just let out a deep, soothing sigh.

The sigh turns into soft-spoken words, “My apologies for greeting you like this, little one.”

My eyebrows raised, my eyes dart between Nuala to my left and Moswen to my right. They seemed to be just as surprised by the turn of the events.

But the talking coals just keep, well, talking. “Wintertime makes me tired of my usual vessel. I prefer to spend it this way. It’s much more relaxing.”

I muster the strength to talk. “No need to apologize, Dame Gothel.” I rush to add, “If that is how you like to be addressed.”

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