genre-bending authors of fairies and heartache

From what I understood, Alice had died slowly and painfully over a hundred years ago. Luckily, ghosts appeared to have a selective memory. Alice didn’t recall her final days unless prompted. So, I did my best not to prompt.

I entered the decrepit Dottage mansion through the shattered attic window. The building was massive, even by human standards. The attic alone could hold the entirety of Elysia and then some. Alice seemed to be the only restless spirit who wandered the countless rooms. Still, her presence could make me jump out of my skin if I wasn’t prepared, so I perched on the dusty dresser to get her ominous arrival over with.

“Hello?” I called. “Are you here? Don’t you dare sneak up on me this time.”

Sure enough, the music box sitting beside me slowly creaked open on its own. A familiar, out-of-tune melody tinkled through the attic. The tiny likeness of a human man and woman steadily spun together in the middle of the velvet-lined box.

My skin and wings prickled with vicious cold, and my breath puffed visibly through my lips. A warning pang in my gut accompanied the crescendo of my heartbeat. I muscled down the overload of sensations and managed to smile as Alice materialized in  the corner of the attic. 

Emerging from the shadows, she looked the same as ever: soft strawberry blonde curls tumbling over one shoulder, a slim dress cinched at the waist, and pouty lips untouched by color.

I had shrieked myself hoarse the first time I saw her several months ago. Her response to my panic had been a mere tilt of her head before she went about her business—a melancholy beauty trapped in a loop. She hadn’t lunged or tried to devour me, as I had always been warned humans were inclined to do. She had never once commented that she and I were wholly different. Maybe dead humans were less ornery than living ones.

A soft smile graced her delicate features when she spotted me tonight. “Sasha!”

“Sylvia,” I corrected flatly. At least she got the first letter of my name right this time. 

“Sylvia! You’re back again.” Lately, she had been looking at me with more recognition. Her milky gaze drifted to the broken window and became distant. “Is he here too?” she asked with a dampened tone.

“I’m sorry. He’s not. You’ll have to suffer through my company for now.” If only Alice could remember her own tragedy, I wouldn’t have to routinely disappoint her. Reminders that her lover was long dead never went over well.

Alice brushed a hand over the music box, her ghostly fingertips lingering on the lid’s engraving. To My Beloved. I had traced my fingers through the grooves more than once, wondering how a human artisan could carve such steady, elegant letters.

“He’ll come for me soon,” Alice said wistfully. “I’d better make myself presentable. Can’t have him see me in such a state.” 

The same words every time. She began to mime rifling through her wardrobe and makeup, preparing for a dance she would never attend. She hummed in time with the music box’s off-kilter melody, though her haunting voice hit the precise notes of the lullaby.

I couldn’t bear to look at her when she was like this, so I observed the little dancing couple instead. Before exploring this mansion, I never thought humans would understand anything as refined as dancing. The couple’s embrace didn’t look all that different from the moonlit revels that took place outside the village—only this was a much softer, slower version. Maybe only humans of the past danced like this.

From the attic window, the nearby human city lights blazed like a line of wildfire cutting through the forest. For all I knew, humans were dancing among those angular towers at that very moment. If I had any talent with glamour, I would have sought the answer long ago, like nomads of past generations. 

Alice continued to carry out her routine like a dutiful prisoner within the walls of her crumbling house. I could sympathize—being trapped, unable to roam as she pleased.  Perhaps her lack of lucidity was a blessing that spared her this pain. I often wished I could help her, but I had learned to muscle down the fruitless instinct to make her see reality. There was nothing that could be done—much less by the fairy pilfering from her belongings. 

I folded my wings to my back and wandered around the music box. The dresser was scattered with personal effects, frozen in time. I padded across a stack of yellowed letters bound by a ribbon. Scrawls of elegant ink stretched across the pages, but the writing was too faded to make out. In any case, I was more interested in the jewelry. 

Alice must’ve been quite the socialite back in her day. A string of pearls beckoned to me from within a cushioned velvet box, their luster slightly dulled by time. Next to them was a pair of ornate earrings with rubies so large that I could barely heft one into my arms. The silver locket was small enough to carry, but after considering the sullen black-and-white image encased inside, I decided it was too precious to take. This could have very well been another gift from Alice’s lost lover. Even if she didn’t remember, I couldn’t do that to her. 

The stars smiled on me when I found a charm bracelet. I knelt, sorting through the various charms: a horse’s head, a coin, a violin, a skull with diamonds in its eye sockets. I shivered at this last one, seeing as it was nearly the size of my own skull. 

I held a charm shaped like a working bell, grinning at the dangling piece inside. Hazel would love this. After glancing over my shoulder at Alice, still humming her endless melody, I decided this prize was safe enough. She wouldn’t notice a stray charm missing any more than the other trinkets I had nicked away over the past months. 

After carefully prying open the bell’s attachment ring, I marveled at the little emerald inlaid at the top of the charm. The dagger strapped to my thigh had a similar gemstone fused to the hilt. 

“My father used to bring things like this to me from other forests—even from mountains and human cities,” I said loud enough for Alice to hear. “Of course, that was before the council put an end to gem scavenging. Not that I entirely blame them.” 

Father. My heart ached at the image of him kneeling down with a glowing smile to show me what he’d brought back from his latest venture. Everything felt warmer when you were only nine summers, immortalized in the golden space of memories. I’d felt his spirit in me the very moment I caught a glimpse of this mysterious house months ago: the lurch in me to venture beyond what was familiar and known. Freedom isn’t a privilege; it’s a birthright worth fighting for, he’d told me with fervor. 

As much as an idiot he’d been, Father was right about that. I felt alive here, outside the forest. And feeling alive was worth breaking every rule for. 

I waved the bell charm over my head. Maybe drawing attention to my theft was a tad reckless, but I welcomed a genuine reaction from her nearly as much as I craved an addition to my collection. Alice continued humming obliviously.

“You humans can’t tell the difference between a magic-charged gem and an empty one, can you?” I asked. “And yet you love them all the same. You adorn yourselves with them.”

“That’s wonderful, Sarah,” Alice said, rouging her cheeks with an invisible brush.

Sighing, I tucked the bell into my bag. “Well, this is a perfectly ordinary gem, in case you were wondering.”

When Alice showed no interest, I turned my attention elsewhere. I doubted she would even notice I was gone. Although many of the doors were shut tight, the wide-open areas on the ground floor held no such barriers.

Despite the distance I put between myself and Alice, the strange sensation of her presence continued to chill my skin as I followed the stairway. Perhaps this meant she was more present in her manifestation tonight, and with any luck, she could be better company later.

I found myself in a room that might have been a parlor once. Furniture was scant or beyond repair, but the fireplace was mostly intact. 

Beckoning my skin’s glow to brighten, I flitted through the open grate and peeked up the chimney. My cerulean light washed the ashy bricks around me, but darkness ate away overhead. Perhaps I could reach another room if I found an opening through this passage.

My idea disintegrated when a creak came from somewhere below me.

I froze. Another creak followed. And another. 

Then, muffled voices.

Holding my breath and lowering my light, I flew out from the fireplace and listened hard. The voices floated from behind the basement door across the room. I had visited that vast space once and found nothing of interest. Now, the basement was by far the most interesting thing I could hope for.

More ghosts?

Cautiously, I approached the ajar door. 

“There’s nowhere else to go!” A woman’s voice, whispery and tearful.

The answering man’s voice was harsh enough to make me halt. “We don’t have a choice!”

More creaks aggressively approached the other side of the door. Heavy footsteps on the stairs. My throat closed. Ghosts didn’t have footsteps.

I darted aside just in time to avoid being whacked by the door as it swung open. The whining squeak of the hinges and the arguing voices overpowered my cry of surprise. I covered my mouth and hid behind the open door. Thudding footsteps entered the room.

Humans.

I was within reach of living, breathing humans with only a rotting wooden door to protect me. If I flew out in search of a hiding place, they’d spot me. If I stayed where I was, they’d hear the hum of my wings. In my panic, I saw no choice but to land on the ground and huddle against the wall behind the door.

“But you don’t know they’re after us,” the woman insisted. 

The humans idled in front of the open basement. Swallowing hard, I lowered myself to peek beneath the bottom of the door. Shoes stirred the dust and made the floorboards groan.

“I’m telling you, these guys on our tail! I got a look in their trunk, and it’s fucking insane. They’ve got guns. Traps. All sorts of shit, like psycho monster hunters you’d see in a movie.”

Hunters. 

Images of sharp teeth, bloodshot eyes, and dirty, grabbing hands flashed through my mind’s eye. Elysia had no shortage of stories to be shared over the ember nooks that branched off from the dining hall. Over the gentle dance of these perpetual flames, beloved narratives were woven of fairy warriors alongside the chilling tales of hunters—humans driven by insatiable bloodlust and armored in the bones of the monsters that died at their hands. They saw no difference between fairies and vicious creatures of the night—prey was prey. A trail of destruction followed everywhere they went.

As I had grown older, I had often assumed these harrowing stories were nothing more than added fodder to discourage unruly fairies from wandering past the perimeter. Elysia was so wrapped in protective glamour that even the most bloodthirsty human would likely walk in circles until they died of exhaustion if they dared to threaten our village. Now, a fresh thrill of fear rushed through me. Hunters were real, and they were nearby. 

The woman sniffled. “B-but maybe they—”

“Stop arguing,” the man snapped. “I’ll find a place. For now, let’s get you home, and you keep your mouth shut. You got it?”

She made another sniffling sound that might have been a confirmation.

The man sighed. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll take care of us. I promise.”

A set of creaking footsteps thudded dangerously close. The door flew away from me and swung back into its frame. I held absolutely still against the wall, wishing more desperately than ever that I was skilled at glamour to hide myself. I peeked up, unable to distinguish the humans as any more than overwhelming shadows. 

Stars, all they had to do was look down to spot me.

But they didn’t. As their footsteps trailed away, I peered a little higher and saw their backs were turned.

Not wasting the opportunity, I bolted into the air and made a beeline for the stairway that led to the upper floors.

“Did you hear something?” the woman gasped.

I was far out of earshot before I could hear the man’s response.

Without pausing to say goodbye to Alice, I darted through the attic and out the broken window. I didn’t slow until I was safely past the treeline. The air warmed as I left Alice and her music box behind. My breaths came easier.

Perching on a branch, I let my shoulders sag as I caught my breath. My mind raced.

The mansion wasn’t always empty. On occasion, there was a car or two outside. Objects were sometimes added to or removed from the vast decaying rooms. But never, never had I been within the mansion’s walls at the same time as a living human—let alone two. I heard the Elders’ constant warnings echo—nothing but death awaits beyond our boundaries. For the first time in months, I acknowledged some truth in their words. Tonight’s visit could have cost me my life.

Safe, I told myself. You’re safe now.

As my pounding heart calmed, I was a touch disappointed that my visit had been cut short. At least I’d managed to swipe one treasure. Unlike the bigger objects I stashed under the attic floorboards, I could hide the little charm in my bedroom.

I hoped the two humans wouldn’t find my stash. Then again, they seemed concerned with different matters than stolen jewelry.

Hunters. A shudder ran through me. I didn’t think they would hunt their own kind, but if the stories were anything to go by, hunters would surely relish spilled blood no matter who it came from.

Pushing the images of sharp teeth and rusted weapons from my mind, I focused on the task of returning to Elysia without getting caught with contraband.  

The forest air was pleasantly cool at night, rich with the scent of earth and dew-covered grass. The distant hoot of an owl quashed any temptation to take a more leisurely route. The flight home was best made swiftly and silently. I was intended for better things than being an owl’s dinner. 

The branches overhead intertwined like a lattice, framing a patchwork of shimmering stars. My heart leaped to my throat, the sight dazzling. Clear nights were for watching the sky with Father, naming the constellations. The String of Sapphires pointed the way home.

The gnarled oaks gave way to a gathering of willow trees. I veered my flight toward the proudest among them, towering with its thick green tresses. I slowed my wing beats, grabbing hold of a frond and peering inside the grove. I let myself sway with the breeze, as pliant as the leaves. Invisible without my glow. 

A fellow fairy, fitted with a snug warrior’s uniform, glided along the looping tree roots. I watched his path, noting the route he’d been assigned to. If he was on lower patrol, the upper two would be circling the tree’s exterior right now. When he was out of sight, I sprang back into motion. 

Sneaking past the perimeter guards was second nature to me now. At the risk of sounding conceited, I was probably the stealthiest fairy in the whole village. I had avoided detection dozens of times since I started venturing out to the old human house. 

Not that the competition was terribly fierce. Most fairies outgrew the rebellious urge to fly beyond Elysia’s boundaries at the age of eighteen. I was twenty-one summers now, and any excuses made on my behalf were growing brittle and strained. 

Starlight struggled to pierce through as the foliage became denser with my approach to the willow’s base entrance. Glowing orbs and white luminescent flowers took charge of visibility, though I avoided getting too close to them. Hugging the shadows, I paused again, waiting for another patrolling guard to move along.

From there, dropping toward the roots and snaking my way to the entrance was child’s play. No one raised the alarm, and before long, I was deep enough underground to pretend I’d never broken curfew. A harmless midnight stroll through my favorite tunnels was no crime.

Light roots crawled along the earthen ceiling. Pathways opened into larger hubs that branched out in all directions. The guards were far more relaxed here.

I silently thanked the stars that Ayden didn’t appear to be on duty tonight. Every breath I took was grounds for his suspicion these days. If he caught me with a human treasure, I’d probably be locked in my room for the next few seasons.

However, my perfectly covert outing turned out to be less than perfect when I reached my family’s dwelling. I tiptoed through the hearth room without a hitch, breathing a sigh of relief when I entered my bedroom. My sigh tapered into a squeak when I saw a figure sitting at the edge of my bed.

“Hazel.” I caught my breath and glanced behind to make sure Mother wasn’t preparing to jump me.

My little sister sat with her arms crossed, chin tilted up with all the authority a scrawny girl of ten summers could muster. “Where were you?” she demanded. “I should tell Mother you went out again.” A bluff if I ever heard one.

I hushed her. “I just needed to stretch my wings. Go back to bed. You’re a living nightmare when you don’t get enough sleep.”

Her narrowed blue eyes darted to my bag. “What did you bring?” She could speak with that cross tone all she wanted—there was no hiding the note of intrigue.

I fought a grin, turning so she couldn’t see the charm as I pulled it out. “Something magnificent,” I said breezily. “But tattletales don’t get to see magnificent things. Go on, go tell Mother. She’ll incinerate this treasure before you ever lay eyes on it.”

Hazel pouted and bounced to her feet. Her little wings twitched with agitation. “Let me see!” she whispered, trying to dodge around me and spot what I held behind my back.

I was too light-footed for her, so she resorted to tackling me. We fell into a giggling heap on the bed, shushing each other and throwing fretful glances at the door. 

“Alright, alright, you’re squishing my wings!” I untangled myself from her and sat up, brandishing the bell charm in both hands.

An awed gleam danced into Hazel’s eyes. The charm was heavy in her little hands, but she cradled it with reverent care. The soft light of the luminescent orchids embedded in the earthen walls behind our beds made the facets of the emerald glitter. Flecks of gold and green shimmered over my sister’s freckled cheeks. 

“It’s so pretty,” Hazel breathed, much to my pride. While I enjoyed my ventures, the look on her face made the stress of this particular night worthwhile. 

“It’s from a bracelet,” I told her. “The humans that used to live in the house left a lot behind.”

Hazel gave the charm a shake, giggling wider when it rang. She stopped the noise short, lest Mother hear.

“You know, you can come with me next time,” I said. “You’re a strong enough flier. You could pick out the next treasure yourself. There’s all kinds of things to see there, Hazel.”

“No way. I’d get in trouble.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You know I’m too talented to get caught.” Even by humans, I thought smugly.

“Not always,” she corrected. “I think Ayden’s still mad about catching you last month.”

“Oh, please. He’s thrilled to bits to have something to brag about.”

Hazel rolled her eyes. She hopped off the mattress to pull out the box I stashed under my bed to house our shared stash of baubles. After pausing to admire the contents, she gingerly set the bell next to a polished white button. 

“Come on,” I tried again. “I could teach you everything I know. There was a flower charm in the mix. Pretty sure it had an amethyst.”

She gave a noticeable pause before pushing the box back under the bed. “I’m not going,” she said right in my cajoling face. “But an amethyst flower does sound pretty. Maybe I could wear it on my belt.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to start promoting my adventures? What will you do when Ayden corners you with a million questions about where the charm came from?”

“I’ll just say I found it in Father’s old stash. No one would know.”

I didn’t bother hiding my grin. She may have been the well-behaved daughter between the two of us, but I swore she got cleverer every day.

With humans milling around the mansion at midnight hours, perhaps it was for the best that she turned down my offer. But the more I thought about my strange encounter, the more I itched to uncover precisely what those humans had been talking about.