King of the Woodlands

Chapter 24

Lilibeth Faren followed the Woodland King up to the rolling green hill, where she'd sat under the willow tree days ago, dreaming of her cottage and all its comforts.

Silence fell over them again, but it was a good kind of silence. Together they looked out at the world, eyes wide as if seeing it for the first time. Bits of spring drifted in the wind that lifted Lilibeth's hair, and it whispered of mirth, of a better world that Esta hadn't believed in.

The sun was setting, a fiery scarlet smudge sinking beneath the stubborn, pink-hued clouds. Colors bled into the horizon, dripping into the hills and rolling valleys and sneaking into the cracks between the trees. The world smelled like sunflowers and clovers, grass and honeysuckle. Sunset fields, golden with flowers and fading warmth, were one of the most beautiful things Lilibeth had ever seen.

She glanced at the Woodland King. He looked nervous, but more determined than she'd ever seen him, standing like a lone sentinel, a knight, pink and gold and lavender reflected in his infinite eyes.

Lilibeth took a shaky breath, all her excitement bubbling up inside her and bursting out. She squealed, dancing around, marveling in the beauty of the world, this life, this mirth, how rare and beautiful she was to even exist at all.

The Woodland King stared at her like her eyes had changed color. A faint smile danced along his mouth, fleeting like a shooting star, but still there, gone in the wind. "How are you feeling?"

"I can't believe I'm actually going to fly," Lilibeth said, tears streaming down her face, the drops stained reddish-gold in the light of the setting sun. "I'm so glad to live in a world where there are sunsets."

"I am too," he said. "Are you ready to fly like a dragon?"

"I'm ready for anything," she said bravely. Omylia Saerieth would approve.

She leapt onto his haunch and scuttled across his scaly back, her fingers warm against his cold charcoal scales. The white daisies she'd twined into her hair flitted down in a waterfall of petals, landing onto the grass like fresh snow.

He looked out at the setting sun, at the world beyond, for a second, as if bracing himself. A deep breath rumbled through his body, and then they were off. They were flying.

The Woodland King started slow at first, his wings beating against the golden winds carefully, as if getting used to it. He looked like a dragon-child again, just learning to fly. Those mighty wings unfurled on either side of him, shining like polished leather boots.

And then the world spread out beneath her, and suddenly the earth felt so wide and free she wanted to jump. The flowers sparkled with light; they were stars dropping to earth, and the grass was so brilliantly green she almost had to shut her eyes against the brightness. She could see the Fable Forest in the distance, a smudge of green paint, clothed in bluebirds and oak trees. You see, Lilibeth Faren was a girl who (sadly) had never flown before, so this is a new thrill for her.

And then suddenly the world spun, a whirlwind of color and light. Lilibeth screamed, but not in fear, as they flew past the Fable Forest and into a vast expanse of olive-colored grass surrounded by dark grey mountains, their tops covered in wooly tufts of white fog. The mountains reminded her of sleeping giants, eternal guardians of the land, wise and somehow awake.

The land then parted to reveal a clear lake that gleamed like polished glass. It was surrounded by tall pine trees, their dark leaves gilded gold and fiery red in the embers of the dying sun. Beyond the lake were the faded shapes of flat, grassy mountains, and then . . . the sea.

Lilibeth yelled as they plummeted, tears gathering in her eyes, but she flung her arms out and her yells turned into whoops of wild, untamed joy as they neared the ocean.

The sunset was like orange paint on an azure canvas. The waves gently kissed the fluffy white sands with saline lips of bright blue, leaving lacy trails of seafoam behind as they crawled back towards the sea on their bellies, humming deeply.

Oh, there were days where she'd sit on the shore, feet buried in the cotton-soft sand, which always reminded her of sweet clotted cream or cake frosting and tasted just as sugary as they looked. She'd watch the waves stretch themselves thin at her feet until they were mere inches away from her nose, and then she'd blow out a deep breath, watching as the ocean drew away.

She thought that maybe she should scream again as the Woodland King swooped down, graceful as an eagle, and turbulence snatched the breath from her lungs with its gleeful hands, but it didn't feel honest. Truth be told, she wasn't scared at all, and besides, this was fun.

He flew over the ocean, so close Lilibeth's dangling, bare feet brushed against the salty water. She noticed that he was shaking, his wings trembling.

I'll be with you until the end of the line. And it was true. She'd stay with him until the end of everything. Others might see him as a monster, a villain worthy of a story. But she saw something different. He wasn't a paper villain, wasn't spun from tea-stained parchment and black ink. He was living and breathing and free, and there was still light in him.

Lilibeth laid a gentle hand on his scaly back. "Stay with me," she said. "I'll stay with you."

A tremor moved through him, but Lilibeth stayed steady, although on the inside she was terrified. "I see land," she said, pointing to a green smudge in the distance. "We're almost there."

He didn't give up. He only beat his wings harder, his eyes set in determination.

And then they landed—smooth, graceful, perfect.

The sky here was blue, the blue of summer and childhood dreams, swirled with cottony clouds. They sat on a small green hill beneath a twisting oak tree, their hearts considerably lighter.

"What is this place?" Lilibeth breathed. Crickets began to sing, a mischievous, gossiping sound. Tufts of unburdened dandelion fluff floated lazily by. She sighed contentedly. Being alive could be very tiresome, but there were times like this when she wanted nothing more than to give the world a big hug.

"No one knows for sure," the Woodland King said. He huffed, sitting down on his haunches like a patient cat. "But all I know is that this place is where shadows cannot reach. Here, there's only day."

Lilibeth leapt from her spot in the wonderfully soft grass to find some flowers. There were daisies that looked like seafoam and daffodils the color of melted butter straight from the pan. Carefully, like Mother taught her, she twisted the soft stems together, spinning them into a crown of flowers.

Stars quietly crept into her vision, and she yawned, setting the flower crown on the Woodland King's head. "I'm tired," she said. "But I want to stay here."

He snorted at the flower crown, but he didn't take it off. "Go ahead. I'll stay too."

"Really?" she asked, her heart lifting.

"Always."

She slumped down against the tree trunk. The Woodland King blew a small puff of fire onto the ground, curling up atop it like a cat and closing his eyes.

Lilibeth smiled and closed her eyes, breathing in deep, comforted by the dragon companion by her side, the flower crown nearly slipping off his head as he snored. For a moment, she forgot about all the ominous warnings and the fact that she might die soon, because she knew that when Death came to greet her, she'd shred his ego apart with her fresh nails.

She listened to the sounds of crickets chirping, the sounds of the Woodland King's obnoxious snoring.

And somehow, it was the happiest moment of her life.

AN: Imma throw up this chapter is bad sorry