The moon barely lit the path Tiyan had chosen. He knew the forest – or at least most of it. He had spent nights in the wilderness before, but rarely had he felt so exposed. The cold bit into places he had thought were well protected. The cold stars gave off no light. Tiyan was alone – and solitude in the darkness was dangerous. Night had begun to rule over the forest, making the branches look like hands and the roots like claws.
Tiyan wasn’t a child, but once, when he had gotten lost in the forest, he knew he had to keep animals at bay with fire and not provoke them. Even as a little boy, he knew how to survive in the thicket, because back then, nothing cloaked in magic stalked him, nothing seethed with unquenchable hunger, dreaming of his soul.
After the Great War, creatures from long-forgotten tales made it clear that they could – and would – cross the boundaries between kingdoms. And humans, as victims, as those who had lost their free will, had to accept it. They were merely fodder for the darkness.
Tiyan couldn’t even bring himself to hate the fae. All the inhabitants of the Vennklan Valley knew who was responsible for their torment. They knew – but they could do nothing. And so the hatred faded, leaving only a cold will to survive.
Snow. Snow muffled emotions, as if enchanted, like a pillow that both suffocates and soothes.
Tiyan adjusted the sack on his back and moved down the slope, still seeing no lights from the village.
He knew he should be able to see them by now. He had an inner compass tied to a clock in his body that had never failed him. He should, in truth, already be in the village.
And that could mean only one thing. Or rather, two.
He was lost in the dark. Or… someone had twisted the paths and led him astray. Or rather… something.
Inhale. Exhale. Once, twice. Was that the sound of a breaking branch, there, to the left? Did the mourning call of the nightjar sound louder than it should have?
Tiyan couldn’t let himself panic. If it was the Fae toying with him, only calm could save him. Think. Think. Don’t let yourself be deceived if they try to enchant you.
But if they attacked and wanted to eat him…
There were times when Tiyan would have said the little folk rarely ventured near the Vennklan Valley, sticking to the main roads where it was easier to feed on emotions, fear, and human flesh. But he was aware that it was only his luck that had kept his encounters with the fae limited. Still hoping that he had simply gotten lost, that nothing was creeping behind him, hungrily catching his scent, he trudged onward, determined not to surrender to fear.
To feel fear in the forest is to stay alive.
Perhaps. But fear dulls the senses and makes you think only of escape, and every interaction with the Fae required precision and quick reflexes. Which he certainly lacked now.
His path still led down the slope, and now even his doubt-filled mind had to admit that the roads had shifted, and the call of the nightjar sounded like the hysterical song of a drunken bard.
Don’t lose your nerve. Not now. It’s another game. And you are their prey.
He began to walk faster, not looking back. The rustle of trees reached him with doubled force; the forest was speaking, sharing secrets he didn’t want to know. The path became steeper and steeper, and it seemed to him that one of the roots was sliding toward him, slowly crawling, dragging soil along. The snow clung to his feet like sticky spider webs.
His heart began to beat in rhythm with the forest, which he felt under his skin. The forest, which was the domain of the Faerie, just like the snow and the icy cold. The forest, which seemed to cut into his spirit, his body, and his thoughts.
He had no friend in it – the wilderness preferred the illusory beauty of the immortals to the fragile – and short – thread of human life.
The wall of darkness seemed to press against him, touch him, the night danced around him as if it were a living creature. One that longed for him to surrender and offer his life in sacrifice. He thought he heard laughter – clear as crystal and just as deceptive as the fae folk themselves.
He felt it more than he saw or heard it. The branches seemed to reach toward him; one of them caught on his hat – it fell into the snow, right beside him. And when he gave up all hope that it was merely an illusion, that fear was painting false visions before his eyes, he could do only one thing.
He sat down in the wet snow, ignoring the cold sucking the warmth from his body through his soaked clothes. He closed his eyes; he shut off his thoughts – or at least tried to erase every image and every word that might oppose the power that would soon begin to penetrate him.
A wave of wings attacked him almost immediately. Delicate Fae brushed him in a maddened jig, tore away his scarves, bit into his clothes, trying to find an exposed spot to reach his body. The darkness around him seemed to tighten, wrapping him in a cocoon. Fear began to force unwanted thoughts into his mind, and his life depended on their absence.
When he was sure the moment would never come, when the dance of wings seemed to last an eternity, he heard the voice of one of the Fae. Directly in his head. He clenched his eyelids even tighter.
“Human prey. He knows the ancient laws. He knows the rules of the old speech. And he seeks to avoid death by invoking them.”
Tiyan knew that now every answer he gave could be cruelly torn to pieces and used against him. He decided to give the simplest responses, so the fae couldn’t latch onto his words.
“I respect the ancient laws of the Fair Folk.”
“But he refuses a meal? Refuses bone and flesh?”
“My bones and flesh are worthless.”
“On the contrary! Good blood—we feel it in his veins.”
“I can… I can offer something else.”
“A human, a human?”
“No. Animals. But bigger than me, with more flesh, bones, and blood. I can hunt them for you, fill you with their fear.”
“Animals here do not feel fear. Animals rot until they grow numb. We can hunt them too. Poor trade.”
But they can feel despair, thought Tiyan, recalling the look of the anglor he had killed, deliberately not responding to the last remark. His options were dwindling.
“But no human soul. Human souls are so delicious.”
Laughter. Like wind-chimes stirred by the breeze.
Tiyan didn’t know how to respond. He would have panicked if not for the second voice that joined the first. Which was strange, because the melding of minds was only possible between one human and one fae. The second voice began to speak quickly, and soon another joined, something that was beyond his comprehension.
“This is…”
“… it’s him…”
“… it’s him…”
“No… it’s impossible…”
“He commanded…”
“… never defy the shadow…”
“… never defy the night…”
More voices joined, and soon Tiyan heard a cacophony of sound in his head, tearing at his skull, thundering in it like an avalanche.
And it ended as quickly as it had begun. And before him were the familiar lights of his village – cozy, though not promising much.
To him, they promised life.
Shaking, Tiyan stood up, grabbed the sack of meat, checked if it hadn’t been emptied by the ravenous Fae, and staggered toward the lights. The voice of the Faerie haunted him all the way to his doorstep. A voice through which he heard again and again: “It’s him.”
They knew him, knew who he was – whoever he was to them. And since they hadn’t killed him, it meant they planned to play with him, which was worse than death.
Never defy the shadow.
He wouldn’t dare.
As long as he could stay away from any shadow that hid secrets full of teeth and wings.