“Eat.”
“Tasty. Delicious.”
“A sweet treat for his teeth.”
His brother was laying next to him, his dead eyes looking like glass. His limbs entwined with roots, which dug inside him, like worms. The fey’s faces were sparkling with enchantment, deep one, which was making him unable to move but painfully aware of what is going on around him. And in him.
“One more.”
“Can’t go on without a good meal.”
His mouth filled with his brother’s flesh. The delicate hands pushed it inside and he had to chew, tears falling from his eyes, his whole body screaming, his throat gagging at the sheer horror of all of this.
“Ah, he was hungry.”
“How eagerly he swallows.”
“Perhaps he needs more.”
“A variety.”
One of the roots dug into his feet. Just like into his brother’s. Tearing pain almost overwhelmed him, but nothing was comparable to eating of what was left off. The root tore meat from his foot and the fairy took it in her slander hands.
“A variety.”
“Tasty, tasty like a fairy wine.”
“Eat, must be strong.”
“Strong for us.”
The roots crawled over his body, the fae looked at him with sickening interest, they dark eyes gleaming like stars on the vast night sky. Beautiful. Oh, how beautiful.
His tears smeared on his face, as they forced his own flesh in.
“Cry. It’s a relief.”
“So he could go on.”
“Maybe we let him go.”
“But only if he is good.”
The laughter filled the air, ringing in his ears like tiny bells, beautiful, pretty; like colorful birds, and sunny morns, and moonlit nights, a dream, an enchanted dream, while the reality was squeezing him with dark embrace.
Just like the roots.
Pretty. Beautiful.
So much.