* * * *
Rather than the normal shimmering and faltering of the world around me, I catch glimpses of a sparkling phosphorescence in my periphery, almost like flecks of gold floating through the air. They shine with light, but it isn’t from the sun. The shimmer is lit from within, just like fae themselves.
A strong urge pulls me toward the odd air and away from where I believe the portal to be.
Branches scrape across my face and my shoes get caught up in small roots of the gnarled trees that surround me. I almost trip about fifty times in the span of five feet. It doesn’t take long to find myself being rained on with gold and silver dust.
Is this faery dust? Could it be? Or is that just too cliché?
The next thing my eyes catch sight of also catches my breath—in Avalon’s own way. I forget any thoughts about how lame or fake this all might be because, even though what I see ahead of me looks like a Hollywood set, deep down I know it is nothing of the sort.
Two centaurs, each at least three stories high, stand facing each other. They appear to form some type of gate. It is impossible to focus on what the centaurs are guarding because I can’t look away from them for the life of me.
They are made of ivory and gold and silver and pearl and opal and whoknowswhatelse all mixed into one. And the light they’re giving off… The centaurs are strangely iridescent, and beyond beautiful.
With one arm out to the side, feeling for trees to support me, I walk toward the creatures. I wonder if they are actually real. There’s no way that they are. They can’t be—
An ethereal, yet animal-like noise mixed with the sweet music of the tiny faeries drifts toward me. Almost like the Pied Piper, calling me as if I am a child.
I walked up to the first enormous creature. With great reverence, I reach out toward a front leg, bringing my hand back to myself and re-extending it a few times before I gather the strength to touch it with my first few fingertips. It is ice cold, yet warm and inviting at the same time. My fingers slide down and, as I am about to place my palm on the sweet surface, a voice startles me backward.
Tripping over a loose twig, I fall on my butt, narrowly missing hitting my head thanks to my elbows and new, quicker reflexes. It’s pretty awesome, albeit strange, that these falls and such don’t hurt.
But that thought doesn’t hold my attention long. What was that sound?
“Who’s there? What’s going on?”
I turn around to look for Zoë, but all I see behind me are trees, and more trees. And fast-fading sunlight.
Why am I seeing the sun? This is just all sorts of strange right now. Like, more so than other things from the past two days.
The forest looks scary as hell behind me so I focus my attention ahead. Not that I have much choice in the matter. It was a struggle to look away in the first place.
I stand up and step forward, cautious as can be, and hear the same noise. It sounds as though an animal is clearing its throat, not that I have ever heard that happen but this is just all so odd. Odd for my new world, odd. I look all around, but everything is too bright up ahead so I can’t make anything out. And I already saw that there’s nothing behind me. The only other place the sound could have come from is the statues.
A lot of craziness is going on, but I don’t think that’s possible. Or is it?
As a soft, yet fierce, voice speaks, sounding as if it is descending from the heavens, I have my answer.
“Kellyn, we have been waiting for you. We are glad it did not take you long to make it here. If you had not found us, we are not sure what would have come to be.”
I look up, covering my eyes with both of my hands. I can barely make out the face of the centaur on my right. Its head is tilted down, looking right at me. It appears to be smiling but I can’t read it like a person, so who knows. Looking over to the one on the left, I catch it in movement. To see what I thought to be a stone statue move, well, to say that I am shocked would be putting it lightly…
Shyly I call out, hoping they can hear me all the way up there. “Well, um, where is here? And what exactly have I found?”
“Come inside, walk between us and you shall see.” The centaur on the left speaks this time, in almost the same voice, only a bit less feral. Still as booming, but gentle.
As scary as they seemed at first sight, the centaurs now have a calming effect on me. I don’t know if it’s the voices or their beauty or some other power, but it doesn’t much matter. I do just as they say.
My footsteps make crackling noises when I step on the leaves, making me wonder yet again why there are dry leaves on the ground in May, but the sound goes away as soon as I finish walking past the centaurs and through the open, gigantic gates just past them. I find myself in a gorgeous garden, much like the one in Preston’s backyard but much larger, and also where I met my mother.
It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out this is an entirely different part of Avalon simply because nowhere else looks like this. And I know it has only been two days but I feel it deep inside—this is someplace special. Someplace not every faery knows about.
But I wonder what is it exactly. And where I am, considering I didn’t walk far after I said goodbye to Zoë.
I turn back toward the gatekeepers to ask them, but their heads are held high, having done their job of ushering me inside.
Knowing I don’t have the time to stop and smell the roses sure doesn’t prevent me from doing so. I honestly can’t help it. I am drawn to every little thing here. When I bend over to smell a particularly pretty orange flower, a tiny faery flies up in front of my face and waves a hello.
“Hi, how are you?” I ask in an almost whisper, afraid my voice might be too loud for its little ears.
“I’m just fine, thank you. It’s good to see you again. Can you please speak up, though? It is hard to hear with your voice so quiet.”
Feeling like quite the idiot, I simply smile and nod. “Again? What do you mean? Are you—I mean, we’ve met before?”
“Yes, briefly. Not by name, but you heard us playing our music and we spoke.”
So I was right. That was when I met my mother. But I was in the faery realm then, so I know I’m definitely still in Avalon. I just wish I knew where… No matter what is going on, though, I will find out sooner if I remain focused.
“Well it’s good to see you again. And to see you’re doing well.”
“You, also,” the faery says before flying off to its right.
As I consider where I am and why, I am vaguely aware I have started rubbing the inside of my left wrist. I walk around and look at everything, and every creature.
It isn’t until after a few minutes, I suppose, that I even really realize I am touching the spot where my mother marked me. When the skin begins to become not only warm, but rather hot.
“Ouch.” I take my right thumb off my wrist and use my palm to soothe the somewhat wounded area.
“Are you all right, my dear?” A sweet and powerful voice sounds from behind me. Before I even look, I know who it is. Not only do I recognize the voice, but I can feel the warmth in my heart and the comfort in my soul. The pain on my wrist subsides as suddenly as I had felt it start.
Turning around, I see my mother standing in front of me. Again, I can see through parts of her. She isn’t a substantial being, but is most definitely here in every other sense possible. Such graceful beauty holds me in a state of wonder, much like everything in Avalon.
“Mother! It’s you again.” All I want to do is step forward and hug her—my heart is screaming for it, but I know that isn’t possible.
“Yes, darling. I am here. And it seems you have found the secret of Avalon, though not entirely by accident.” My mother smiles, almost mischievously, as she is speaking.
“The secret?”
“Why yes. I know you were just thinking this isn’t a place most know of. And you are correct. It is quite an amazing world here, this Edge of Avalon we are in.
“Edge? What does that mean,
exactly?” I stand perfectly still, watching my mother and nothing else.
“It is as it sounds. We are in The Edge of Avalon. A secret hiding spot for a special type of faery. I am allowed here as a reprieve from such a horrible death, but others must be led here.” My mother waves an arm around, showcasing the area we are standing in. “No one can find it on their own.”
“So I was led here? And then invited in by the centaurs. Who brought me here then?”
“Why I did. Well, my thoughts and wishes did. And then you brought me here with your need to know as you rubbed our mark.”
I glance down at my wrist, the redness now gone. There is one other difference from the last time I looked at it. An enormous and amazing difference. The mark has been black this whole time, from the kiss up until to two seconds ago. It looked like most tattoos. But at this moment it is shimmering every color of the rainbow and light shines out of it like a prism, reminding me of Hollie’s skin.
I close my eyes, an overwhelming warmth embracing me uncomfortably.
“There is no need to feel frustrated or upset. I know you miss your friend and want to protect her. I will take you to her when we are finished here. But we are here for a reason. You can use this unknown, nearly abandoned spot to prevent what is to come. If you do not want your friends to be harmed, and if you want to survive, you must use this place.”
“Use it how? Wait—there are faeries here though. And you said they’re special. So if Hollie and Olivia are safe … does that mean these fae here won’t be?” I pray the answer will be different than what my gut is telling me.
“I think you know that answer, unfortunately. But I can explain how it might not be as bad as you believe.”
“How can faeries dying not be a bad thing?” I hear my voice rise a couple of octaves. Nothing in my body understands how killing, or hurting, faeries is supposed to fix everything. I just don’t get how something so horrible can stop Donovan and the creature What the hell—this is pure insanity!
“Calm down, my dear Kellyn. Yes, he will be able to hurt the fae, but remember, he can only kill one. Just one. And the others will soon be healthy once more. Remember that we heal almost miraculously.”
My mother must be sending soothing vibes my way because as soon as her words are spoken, a sense of peace washes over me. I am still shaken up, but not as badly.
“So what’s the deal, exactly,” I ask, taking a seat on the ground. Standing isn’t going to work for this conversation.
My mother joins me, floating down toward the ground in an effortless manner, looking beautifully whimsical. She makes me smile just like Hollie does. I am so blessed to have people like this in my life.
“Well first of all, I have been able to block out our voices during this conversation so these fae cannot hear us, but it will only work for another minute or two, as I have used much of my strength.”
Her voice is going in and out like before, fading and reappearing—the same as her image.
“So we are going to have to have this conversation differently. I am sure you remember how I told you everything the last time?”
I stop rubbing my hands over the blades of grass I’ve started playing with. “Of course! It was amazing.”
“That is good to hear. I do not want to overwhelm you, but I have something important you must hear, and a plan in mind that will help take care of the prophecy with the least amount of pain possible. If you have the strength to absorb it all, that would be most helpful.”
I sit up straight, as if a two-by-four is strapped to my back. Miss America would be jealous.
“Sure Mother. Anything. I’ll do what I can. Just give me the chance.”
My mother nods and once more takes over my mind. She tells me all about The Edge of Avalon and what it truly is. Thoughts rush at the speed of light, but I am able to keep up with it all.
I learn that the reason most fae don’t know about The Edge and never come here is because, even though it is technically a part of Avalon, it really belongs to human children. Not that they ever come here physically, but they do spend time with the faeries and other creatures who live here. On a nightly basis … because the children are the ones who create these faeries and unicorns and such—in their dreams and imaginations—all starting with the stories they are told from the time they are born.
Faery tales have been around as long as anyone can remember for the simple fact that they are true. But of course little kids don’t know this, so they make up what they can in their minds and base the rest off of picture books and movies like Peter Pan.
The Edge of Avalon is where these dreams live. And they travel to the children’s minds when the moon rises in the human realm, once they are fast asleep. Eventually, most children grow up and abandon these types of dreams, but for every child who stops believing, another one takes its place and more faeries are born.
And this fact is supposedly why one faery dying will not be the same tragedy of my mother’s fate … or what could happen to me. What Donovan wants to happen but the prophecy does not. Plus, if I don’t do this, I will only be putting someone else in my exact situation in another fifteen to twenty years.
Way to guilt me into it … I can’t possibly be that selfish and weak.
At this point, my mother gives me a bit of a break to catch up—to think things through. I go back to playing with the grass as I process and then look up, pleading with my eyes for more. I’m not sure if I want it but there is a desperate need in me. I have to know more.
The next part hits me hard. My upper body even jumps back a little when I realize the truth of all I am being told and what I will have to do. Even in the lightness of Avalon, I can feel the heavy weight of burden as if it is a lead vest.
When I have learned all I need to, I simply nod. I attempt a smile, but it doesn’t turn out as such. It feels like more of a twisted sneer since I am unable to be truly happy at the moment. I know my mother understands my intention, though, so I’m not worried about my expression.
My mother loves me; I love my mother, and that is all that matters in this situation right now.
Once she is gone … well, that is a different story.
It happens as quickly as it did the last time. She blows me a kiss and I do the same. Then all I am staring at is the flowers and grass in front of me.
At least I am left with an amazing faery’s faith in me to finish the horrible task the prophecy says is mine, and mine alone.
I need to get out of this place. And soon. Rushing back out to the gate, I faintly hear the centaurs say a goodbye. I am running faster than I would have ever thought myself capable.
I make it fully past both the gate and the keepers, expecting to find myself where I started. Instead, I desperately need to breathe after all that exercise. Looking around, I think I recognize my surroundings but after that mindfuck of a conversation I need to take a minute or so longer than usual to know exactly where I am.
Realizing I am in the park down the street from Hollie’s doesn’t surprise me. My mother said she would help and I have no doubt that is the truth.
I race down the street, getting to my friend’s as fast as I possibly can. And as quickly as I am running, even through the heavy air, I am pretty sure not a single human can see me—just a flash of something one would pass off as an eye twitch or another human oddity of the like.