SML Ch 87

Chapter 87

“My lord… what is this place?”

No sooner had they stepped beyond the mirror than Alex clung half to Reynald, eyes darting everywhere. Half entranced by beauty, half terrified at being lured by it.

And beautiful it was.

An endless meadow bloomed with every hue of flower. Streams of thick, golden nectar flowed like rivers, sending sweet fragrance that stung the nose. In a sky pure and blue, clouds as soft as paint strokes drifted lazily. Just gazing, one felt peace slip warmly into the heart.

And there—the fairies.

They sparkled across the air, faces cherubic, cheeks flushed, features sweetly childlike—yet bodies held long limbs, tall and adult. From their backs sprouted wings, great and transparent as dragonflies’. Each beat refracted sunlight into showers of colors. Watching them, one ached with sudden, foolish desire: If only I had wings like theirs—to fly, free across the sky.

It was less a meadow than a paradise. A place one could imagine staying forever.

“…Surely this is some illusion magic, my lord? No world could be so wondrous.”

“No illusion. This is the fae realm itself, untouched. But beware. Succumb to desire to remain—your path back to the human world vanishes forever.”

Reynald warned firmly, eyeing their guide—the fae who had brought them. Unlike its former guise as Volant, its present form was wholly different, yet Reynald knew instinctively it was the same being.

By the fae stood a small wooden hut. Probably the “storehouse” it spoke of earlier. Reynald clasped Alex’s hand tight before moving. Noting Alex’s nerves, he explained:

“If ever you covet something here—drop the book at once. Then hold tightly to me. I’ll guide you through.”

“…Drop the book? What happens if I do?”

“You lose the tether to this world. Then the fae king’s illusions bind your sight. Safer, perhaps—it shows you something like the human world, soothing to your mind. But fall once in those illusions, you are lost. You collapse under hidden traps.”

For indeed, the king had laid illusions across this field. A petty, childish ward: to deny any uninvited guests the “true” world. Unless invited, or ready to become one of the fae, mortals would see only crafted deception.

Flowers—lovely at first glance—were shards of glass or pulsing slime up close. Step wrong, and your feet could be punctured or pulled under. The soil hid golden pools like honey, harmless to fae—but fatal to humans.

One cannot traverse this plain blind. Without perceiving the true world, one may as well sit still and pray for rescue.

Reynald sighed inwardly. The fae king’s illusions were not wholly cruel. They shielded humans from being too easily enthralled by the true realm—and offered higher chance they’d someday return home.

If only Volant and Heide are safe… The doll will protect Volant. But Heide—gods help him.

Best for Heide if he had not moved at all. Reynald prayed so, stepping slowly, eyes sharp on each foothold.

“…My lord.”

Alex broke silence, face uneasy.

“What is it?”

“That fae… it mentioned—you once slew its king here?”

“Oh, that,” Reynald muttered. “Yes. Fifteen years ago now.”

“…‘Oh, that’?”

“He tried to take a boy. To make him his son. I fought him, and fate did for him. Bad luck—his, not mine.”

Reynald offered no detail. It was private business. What mattered—the fae had barely cared. By the time Reynald departed with rescued Arun, they were already debating who the next king should be.

The fae’s indifference struck Reynald as typical. They acted on whim—vengeance rarely lingered beyond days.

“So do not worry,” Reynald added. “These ones won’t trouble us over that.”

“That’s not why I asked…” Alex said softly. “I just thought—your life has been… harsh. Even that mage said it. That you stand close to death.”

“Pay that no mind. Elves, fae, beings beyond—judge by their own spans. To a silver elf, living millennia, we are dust already. To her, swine with 15 years, humans with 60 years, all equally near death.”

“…But she said, ‘Left alone, you would die.’”

“She’d only just met me. Words like that usually spill from bias more than knowing. Recall—I said the same to you once, did I not?”

Alex flushed, recalling their rough first meeting. He dropped his gaze. Reynald meanwhile scoffed inwardly.

If I lived alone, I’d never have met dragons, fae kings—all that nonsense. Only ratmen in the back hills.

“Be assured—I’ll manage just fine.” Reynald squeezed Alex’s hand.

Alex, though silent, squeezed back, harder, hand warm with tension.

“…Indeed. You are not one to die easy. Not even alone,” Alex whispered.

Reynald smiled faintly at that.

Before long, the hut loomed close. A fae swooped, grinning, hovering face-too-close at Reynald until he startled back.

“…And so, some folk seem like they might vanish if one blinked,” Alex muttered under breath.

“Mm? What was that?” Reynald asked, but the fae interrupted.

“You arrived safely. Your friend is here already.”

“…Friend? Volant?”

“Yes. The boy I replaced. A little clockwork toy brought him.”

Relief flitted across Reynald’s face.

“And Heide?”

“The limping one? Not my doing. Don’t know where he went. But—first, attend your business here.”

“…Business?”

“Is there none? Surely the same problem—Selection? So you searched your library.”

“You know of it?”

“Of course. Each hundred years it comes. And every centennial you leave records with us—to keep safe. For those who cannot read.”

“…You kept records for us?” Reynald muttered, astonished. Why would folk entrust such to fae? Naïvety… or necessity?

“Well. Only one way to know. Let’s go, Alex.”

“…Understood.”

They opened the hut’s door. Time now to rejoin Volant and the doll, and to find the truth.