The WishKeeper (The Paragonia Chronicles) (24 page)

Zooming through the wind, Beren sent red sparks into the sky hoping any remaining member of The Hope would notice. He was too far from Elanor for her to see the flare, but some of his team had to be close by. Landing along the sill of the kitchen window, he zapped a spell and lifted it open with a grunt and hurried in.

The house was almost as dark as Erebus’ fog and it immediately sent shivers of worry through him. The Makers wouldn’t have blown out the candles, they needed some kind of light and Thane, being Thane, would have begged for the same.

“Shea! Thane?” he called out, searching the living room. The house was empty, but how? It was barely an hour since he left them. As he flew through, it quickly dawned on him as he noticed the furniture pushed aside, toppled over and askew as if a tornado had swept through. Erebus.

*       *       *       *

Stars twinkled in a crystal clear night sky as the bright full moon lit up the Paragonian valley. A slight, warm breeze rustled the thick green grass as fireflies danced and blinked along the edges of the forest. Warm, golden lights from thousands of fairy homes rimmed the trees of the north end of the valley. Keepers throughout Paragonia were preparing for a restless sleep, knowing family and friends were on The Other Side fighting a war that could be their last, for better or worse.

A young mother was tucking her little fairy daughter into a plush, straw bed. She kissed her on the forehead and helped adjust her whisper thin wings as she rolled on her side. They exchanged loving smiles and though the tiny fairy girl closed her eyes and gripped a small, round little doll resembling a wish, her mother didn’t leave her side. A deep worried sigh left her lungs as she watched her daughter fall asleep.

Glistening in the moonlight, Castle Paragonia rested at the far end of the valley. It was unnaturally quiet as the old weathered castle sat amidst its weeds and overgrowth, haunted not by whispers of a troubled past, but by something more presently pressing. A light flickered from a large window in the middle of the castle, just above the closed gates. A large veranda stretched out with two double doors flung wide open. This was Erebus’ potions room and though the rest of the stone behemoth looked cold and dormant, a flutter of life glimmered from the center of it once again.

The room hadn’t been touched in years. Dust and debris from years of neglect cluttered the corners and covered wooden tables.

Positioned atop a gyro sphere, stuck in a spell, was the True Love Wish. Its red glow was diminishing as its breathing was labored. There was no sign of Thane or the Makers as a breeze blew in through the opened veranda doors. It rustled the pages of an ancient book browned and faded from years of use as black fog curled away from it, sweeping toward the veranda.

Erebus stood along the aged stone railing, looking out over the starlit valley. The twinkling lights of the fairy homes were to his right and though the Keepers were climbing into their beds with heavy thoughts of worry, little did they know the danger was at their doorstep. The wizard leaned against the railing and softly released a deep, low breath.

Fog crept out of him like a disease, seeping out over the valley in every direction. Spreading, it doused the bright stars and glow of the moon. It inched up and around the tree homes of every fairy with the fingers of the fog clawing at the doors and windows, bleeding in through thin cracks and down skinny chimneys.

Creeping over the still pond of the Nursery, the fog devoured the thatched roof barn, making its way along the base of the mountain. The few wishes that were in their pens cowered and huddled within the corners of the wooden fences while some pushed away from the fog and tried escaping. One by one, the shadow devoured them, rushing through the stables like a slow, demented tidal wave.

The light of the fulfillment pool at Exclamation Point was the only thing that repelled the fog. The darkness swirled around it like a whirlpool, spinning and spinning, lashing angry fingers at the stoic fairy statue. Erebus had covered the entire valley with his shadow and all that was left to control was Exclamation Point. In his mind, it was only a matter of time and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

The young fairy mother ran her fingers through her sleeping daughter’s pink hair and gave her one last kiss goodnight. About to stand and leave her little fairy to hopefully pleasant dreams, fingers of a black shadow hand gripped the wooden door and slowly pushed it open. It oozed into the small bedroom, clinging to the walls like thick black smoke. The young mother quickly covered her daughter as the fog collapsed over her.

Breathing in deeply, Erebus stood upright along the veranda, looking at his masterpiece. A black leathered smiled stretched across his withered white face.

“It’s good to be home.”

35

Like Father, Like Daughter

Shea’s strength was slowly returning, though she knew Elanor’s strenuous breathing wasn’t a good sign. She didn’t know how much pain her mother was in, however, and Elanor intended to keep it that way. The blizzard wasn’t helping matters either as Avery helped Elanor step by step, supporting her as she limped.

Shea risked running ahead with the hope of getting a clearer view, but there was no sign of the end of the forest or the cul-du-sac. They needed an aerial view, but the guilt that she felt over using her new wings kept her from mentioning it.

“Let’s rest for a second,” Avery said, as she stopped. “This damn blizzard just won’t end.”

“No, we need to keep going. Shea,” Elanor said, calling her daughter back. Her headache was slowly retreating and that only meant the curse was returning. Something else she intended to hide from Shea. Avery looked at Elanor’s eyes and noticed the black swirl was getting thicker. Catching Elanor’s glare, Avery knew she didn’t want her daughter to know.

“We need to find your father, get back to the house and regroup. We can’t stay out in this storm for much longer. You need to use those things,” she said to Shea, referring to her wings.

Shea hesitated. Even though she so badly wanted to, she felt awful leaving her wingless mom behind. Avery nodded to Shea, giving her blessing.

“I’ll be here. She’ll be fine,” Avery said.

Elanor took Shea’s hand, knowing her daughter didn’t want to leave. “Go. I’ll be right here.”

Fluttering her wings for the first time in over a decade, Shea stepped back and felt the forgotten, comfortable breeze her wings created when flapped. She looked at her mother and a slow, evolving smile rolled across her face. Elanor fought the urge to break down and remained composed, if just to inflict more confidence in her daughter.

“They’re beautiful,” Elanor said through a painful smile.

“I’ll be right back. I promise,” Shea said, and with a remembered joy, she buzzed her wings and lifted off the ground. For years, she thought that maybe she’d forgotten how to fly entirely. That if by some miracle she could fly again, her wings wouldn’t work, or she wouldn’t be able to control them, or any number of other fearful reasons to keep her feet on the ground. When she looked at her feet, however, with her clunky boots dangling beneath her and the frozen ground retreating as quickly as her fears, it all came back to her. She was going to fly again. Oh to fly again.

Floating in front of Avery and Elanor, Shea removed her wand, nodded her head and took off. Like a bullet, she was a natural.

Once Shea was out of sight, Elanor collapsed. She fell to her knees and Avery cast the same domed warming spell as Elanor had before.

“Ellie?” Avery said, as she crouched next to her. “What can I do? Anything?”

Elanor turned her head. Her bare hands were buried in the melting snow, as she looked through darkening eyes at her friend. She cried out and arched her back. Thick, dusty fog poured off of her shoulders as she coughed and wretched. Avery barely flinched at the fog.

“You can’t tell Shea. You understand?” she begged. Avery quickly nodded, tears forming in her deep eyes.

“It’s almost calming, isn’t it?” Avery asked. Her eyes were staring at the black dust that trickled off of Elanor’s back. She knew all too well how Erebus’ power can be so consuming. “When it returns, the fear grows so strong, so overwhelming, shutting down is all you can do. After a while…it’s all you know.”

Elanor coughed again, though the release of the dusty fog was slightly less than the first. She looked through foggy eyes at her friend. She didn’t want to admit it, but Avery was right.

Her friend slowly put her arms around her and hugged.

*       *       *       *

Shea’s fingers grazed the tops of evergreens as the cold winter wind rushed through her lungs. She breathed in every bit of the weightlessness as she spun and twirled. The blizzard was just as treacherous and even more powerful above the trees, but Shea couldn’t care less. Splitting the wind like a knife, her thick mane whipped across her face and she didn’t fight the urge to laugh. It bellowed out of her uncontrollably and she realized quickly that the laughter felt even more foreign than flight. As she weaved through the trees, the laughter subsided and a sudden realization struck her like a brick wall. The years before her accident were spent completely unaware of how lucky she was. How thoroughly closed her eyes were to what she had, to what she was. Never again could she allow herself to take such a gift for granted. Her whole life had been a mistake - a mistake of self-pity, self-loathing and regret. The only mistake now was the one Erebus made when granting her wish. As she blistered through the winter storm, barely affected by its might, it wasn’t regret she felt, or fear or even guilt, but instead a driving need for revenge. The WishingKing was the fool now that Shea Evenstar could fly.

Red sparks in the near sky broke her from her thoughts. The flare showered over the tops of the trees a few hundred yards in front of her.

“Dad!” the wind muffled her call, but not the worry of what her father would say when he saw her wings. She was suddenly more afraid of her military father than she was of Erebus. Pushing harder and gaining speed, she found the tree from where the flare came and dived into its branches.

Beren held tight to a small branch, bracing himself against the wind. His face was red with frostbite and stricken with worry and confusion. He was lost and he knew it. As he watched his flare blow away in the storm, his hopes for anyone seeing it did as well. He’d left his injured wife alone in this storm. Alone. He’d left her, something he said he would never do again and he couldn’t forgive himself. None of this wishing business matters anymore, he thought. His family. He’d taken for granted how lucky he was to have fairies in his life that cared about him. They loved him, and he loved them. Isn’t that all that mattered, regardless of how difficult it was to keep them all together? To keep them safe?

A flash of light splashed behind the trunk of the tree behind him. Something had landed a few feet away and he realized how freezing he truly was - he could barely grip his wand as he pulled it from its sheath. His teeth chattered as he called out, “Show yourself!”

Shea leaned against the bark of the tree, nervous to step out. She glided her fingers along the edges of her perfect wings and took a deep breath. He won’t understand, but it’s too late for that, she thought. If he never talks to me again, at least I brought him back to Mom. At least we’re together again, even if he hates me for it.

Stepping a cautious boot out in front of her, she revealed herself to her dad. Beren stood, shaking from the cold, pointing his wand and ready for a fight. His eyes popped open, unable to understand what he was seeing. It was his daughter…but her wings. Shea. His daughter was standing in front of him, in tact, in one piece. She was better than okay.

Her wings spread out wide behind her. Shea raised her worried eyes and looked at her dad and was surprised to see the worry reflected on her father’s face. He unconsciously lowered his wand and stood in shock, taking it all in. Opening her mouth to release some kind of immediate apology, Shea only squeaked before Beren rushed and threw his arms around her.

He was no longer a General. No longer a leader or coach, or disciplinarian. He was a scared father, relieved to hold his only daughter again. They held each other and Shea was thankful that he squeezed even harder than she did. At first, she didn’t know how to hug her dad. They had never truly shown any amount of affection for each other. They were family and of course they loved each other, but it always felt more mandatory than automatic. Until now. As Beren pulled her in, she felt the love only a father could give - his strong arms cradling her, protecting her. She no longer worried about her wings, or the WishMakers, or even the stolen wish. For this moment, it was just her and her dad.

He finally pulled back to get a good look at her. It was difficult to look him in the eye as she noticed him surveying her wings. A deep, misty breath escaped his lungs and nothing needed to be said, much to Shea’s relief.

He nodded, “You’re safe.”

“I’m…” Shea started, but Beren wouldn’t let her.

“Don’t. There is no time for apologies or regret. Your mother is injured,” he said.

“I know. She was the one who found me,” she replied.

At this, Beren hesitated. He was so happy to see Shea that he’d forgotten all of the secrets he’d held from her over the years. All of the lies he perpetuated in the name of keeping her safe. Safe from pain and sadness.

“I should have told you. Years ago. I just didn’t know how,” he said, through serious eyes.

“Just keep moving forward. Right?” Shea returned. A smirk creased her lips and Beren nodded with his own.

“Know how to use those things?” he said, motioning to her wings.

“I’ve always known. Do you?” She eyed his chipped wing and flicked it with her finger. They both smiled and buzzed their wings.