THE SECRET SEA: EXPANDED EDITION

72

The journey takes a few days. We stop from time to time on secluded rooftops to fish some food from my backpack and rest a bit. Finally, we set down in the brush of a secluded cliffside near a strange circle of carved granite. Towers of thorns loom all around us. There's no way we could have traveled on foot.

I arch my head skyward. "The sky is gray and my nose is running. If this isn't Oregon, it must be England."

Eve nods, her sharp beak slicing the mist. "Correct. We made it! The Mên-an-Tol stones."

VarnLiqn says nothing, sound-asleep in my backpack.

"What do we do now, Pteridophia?" asks Eve.

This place used to be a thoroughfare for a variety of magickal beings. Now, it's just a remnant of a time long past. Where hundreds of these stones once stood, there is now but one. Just walk through the circle. If the faerie folk are willing to meet us, we'll be transported to their lands in an instant.

Eve stares up at the clouds. "And if they don't accept us?"

Then you'll likely be lacerated by that giant clump of thorns behind the portal.

"Right," says Eve. "Fun—like usual. Let's go guys. Just walk through the center of that thing."

I'm skeptical. "Shouldn't there be, I don't know, some swirling blue flames or a whirlpool of sparkling plasma or...something?"

Eve walks through and disappears. I follow quickly.

"Yeah, no sparks or whooshes or wavy wobbly anything. Lame," I say. I quickly change my tone, marveling at the bizarre architecture surrounding us. Bulbous forms jut from the earth, looking more like vegetation than structures, complete with leaves and curtains of white blossoms. Vines dangle from bubbly eves and moss coats nearly every curvaceous wall. The streets are paved with what looks like shards of massive walnut shells. In lieu of streetlamps, the faerie folk seem to prefer the incessant buzzing of oversized lightning bugs. The plump insects swirl languidly in small circles above the streets, attached to the rooftops by tiny strings.

The portal is nowhere to be seen. The village is nestled in a dense thicket of trees with seemingly no means of escape. "Looks like there's no turning back," says Eve.

A stout man in patchwork clothes of random colors emerges from a nearby gourd. He wears a satisfyingly pointy velvet cap and a burlap waistcoat. A pair of gossamer wings dangles from the being's back, nearly dragging the ground. He shuffles close with a demeanor that could only be described as jolly.

"Uh, hello," I say, having expected someone smaller. The faery is about the size of a ten year old.

"Hi there! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Magistrate Pon. Welcome to our village, such as it is."

"Nice to meet you," says Eve.

"Oh! Goodness. You nearly scared me out of my boots. It's been so long since I've seen an Aloja...I forgot they talked. No offense."

"It's cool," says Eve.

The magistrate flashes a wide smile, his mustache bobbing. "I'm guessing you've come to slay us? You are the destroyers, am I right?"

"I DESTROY!" says VarnLiqn leaping from my backpack. He waves his little black hands menacingly in front of Magistrate Pon.

The faery backpedals and grabs his chest. "Dear lord, a bastard too? What a splendid day to die!"

"Varn, stop that," I yell. "We're not here to destroy anyone!"

Magistrate Pon nods. "Oh. Well, I suppose it's already been done. We're all fading away, after all. But I thought maybe you were here to make us disappear a bit faster? Many here would consider it a blessing."

Eve fights back a tear. "No! I'm...I'm sorry, but we only did what was necessary. That's not why we came. My name is Eve, but I also carry another soul within me. She can't speak, but I can speak for her. Her name is–"