Through the Fairy Ring

Chapter IX.

Grace's legs ached as she continued the ascent, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The air seemed to thicken further, her surroundings dimming as though the light of the moon was being swallowed by the shadows above. Just as she thought she had found her rhythm again, a familiar voice pierced through the silence.

"Xiao Hua?"

Icy tendrils snaked around her heart as the voice — warm, tender, and impossibly familiar — echoed from behind her.

"Xiao Hua, my precious girl... you've grown so big. Turn around and let me see you."

It was Grandma Irene. Her grandmother's voice was unmistakable, soft and loving, just as it had been when she was alive. Grace's heart constricted painfully in her chest. For a moment, her legs felt as though they would give out, her resolve weakening. She wanted to turn around, to see her grandmother's face again, just for a moment. To hear her comforting words, to fall into the warmth of her arms like she had so many times before.

"Come, Xiao Hua. Let's sit together, just for a while. It's been too long. I've missed you."

Grace faltered, her steps slowing. The longing to stop, to surrender to the pull of that voice, gripped her tightly. Her mind swirled with memories — of her grandmother's gentle hands combing through her hair, of the lullabies she would hum softly as Grace drifted off to sleep. It would be so easy to stop, to rest in her grandmother's presence, even if just for a few moments.

But something felt wrong.

Her fingers brushed against the necklace hanging around her neck. She felt the cool metal of the locket, the one her grandmother had given her as a child. With trembling hands, she lifted it, opening the tiny clasp to reveal the picture inside: a black-and-white photograph of Irene cradling her as a baby, smiling down at her with love and warmth.

Grace's breath hitched. Her grandmother was gone. Had been for years.

This wasn't real.

She squeezed the locket tightly, the sharp edges biting into her palm. The warmth of Irene's voice, which had felt so real moments ago, now sounded hollow, distant. Grace's pulse quickened, her mind snapping back to the present. This was another trick, another illusion meant to stop her from reaching her goal.

"No," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You're not real."

The voice grew sharper, more insistent. "Don't be ridiculous, Xiao Hua. I'm right here. Don't you want to talk? Don't you miss me?"

Grace clenched her fists and forced herself to move forward, her eyes fixed on the steps in front of her. She wouldn't turn around. She couldn't. Her grandmother was dead, and no matter how much she wished it otherwise, no illusion could bring her back.

"Xiao Hua!"

The voice grew desperate now, almost angry, but Grace shut her ears to it, the locket clutched tightly in her hand as she continued her climb. More voices began to call out to her, some gentle, others pleading, swirling around her like a storm. They came from between the leaves, whispered on the wind, and from the hollowed-out homes of fairies who peered out from their tiny windows carved into the tree bark. Their shimmering eyes watched her, some filled with curiosity, others with mischief, their faces flickering in and out of view. Each time her foot hit the step, a new voice pierced the air, trying to pull her from her path.

"Detective," a deep voice growled, sending a shiver down her spine. It was her police captain, stern and unforgiving. "You failed the team. You abandoned us." The words hit her like a punch, her foot catching on the stair as the memories flooded back. The cases she couldn't solve, the mounting pressure, the feeling of letting everyone down. His voice, usually so measured and strong, dripped with disappointment.

She shook her head, forcing herself to move, but another voice rang out, this one softer — familiar. "Why couldn't you have stayed?" It was Charlie, his tone heavy with betrayal. Grace's heart twisted painfully in her chest. She could still see his face, the way his eyes searched hers for answers she couldn't give, the way he had looked at her just before she walked out of the precinct for the last time. "I thought better of you," the voice continued, low and bitter. "Looks like I was wrong."

Grace stumbled, clutching the bark of the tree for support as her mind reeled. Her hands trembled. No, she thought, don't listen. She pressed forward, her breath ragged, but the voices wouldn't relent. From behind the leaves, from the carved homes of the fair folk, they whispered her regrets, her failures, and her deepest fears.

Then, just when she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, another voice rose above the others — soft, weak, almost a whimper.

"Help..."

It was the little girl. The missing child she had found locked in the basement. Grace's breath caught in her throat, her legs turning to lead. The girl's voice, fragile and broken, was like a knife to her heart. She had never forgotten her — the terrified child, barely alive, huddled in the dark, her eyes wide with fear. Her tiny body was covered by only a tattered, thin cloth which did nothing to hide the bruises that covered almost every inch of her pale, ashy skin. "It hurts so much... please, save me."

Grace's knees buckled, and she dropped to one, her hands gripping the stairs as the weight of it all crushed her resolve. She could see the girl's face, pale and tear-streaked, her small hands reaching out, pleading. Grace's heart pounded in her chest, a scream rising in her throat. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "I'm so sorry."

The forest seemed to close in around her, the voices now a cacophony of accusations and regrets, swirling in her mind like a thick fog. She felt herself slipping, her will cracking under the weight of it all. She wanted to stop, to rest, to cry, to fall into the torment and let it consume her.

But then, through the din of torment and sorrow, her fingers brushed the locket around her neck again. That small, familiar weight. Grace closed her eyes, clinging to the necklace, letting the cold metal ground her. She wasn't in the basement. She wasn't back at the precinct. She was here, climbing up the spiralling staircase to meet with the elder — and she couldn't stop.

With a shaky breath, Grace forced herself to stand. The voices roared around her, the little girl's cries growing more desperate, but she pushed forward. Her steps were slow, heavy, but she didn't stop. She wouldn't stop. She couldn't. The fairies' eyes gleamed from the bark, their voices teasing, prodding, trying to pull her back into the past, but she ignored them.

Step by step, she ascended. The torment ebbed and flowed, the voices clawing at her mind, but the feel of the locket in her hand kept her grounded, tethering her to the reality of the world around her.

Finally, the staircase ended. Grace stumbled onto the large branch, gasping for breath. Her body trembled, her mind reeling, but she had made it. Above her loomed the massive hole in the tree trunk, draped in the curtain of spiderwebs. The voices behind her grew faint, fading into the distance as she reached for the last bit of strength she had.

Milya emerged from the shadows, her wings shimmering softly as she stood before the webs, her expression calm, almost approving. "You've done well," her voice cut through the remnants of the torment still lingering in Grace's mind. "Now, come. The elder is waiting."

The spider silk parted at her touch, revealing the dark entrance beyond.

Grace took one last, steadying breath before following Milya through the webs as her vision was plunged into darkness.