Upon returning home, the couple had an uncomfortable conversation with the young man's mother.
"They're expecting us tomorrow."
"No. I'm not going. Why should I?"
"Because we owe them a great deal. You owe them — the fact that you're free, that you're still allowed to be with her." The woman cast that her towards the girl beside him. She clearly disapproved of her son's manner. "Nothing will happen if you spend a few hours away from her."
The girl looked from one to the other, uneasy. The last thing she wanted was a quarrel because of her, so she gently took his hand.
"Your mum is right. What they did deserves gratitude. It's only a courtesy visit — nothing more. I'll be fine on my own. Don't worry."
He calmed, though he was still displeased. "All right. Once," he said curtly, and went off to his father, who was waiting for him on business.
A hand came to rest on the girl's shoulder. The touch was gentle, yet the blonde sorceress's face showed only dry acknowledgement — she had acted correctly.
The girl spent the rest of the day alone in her room. At dinner, everyone tried to behave as usual. She attempted to laugh off the remarks about tomorrow, but it came out strained. Breakfast the next morning passed quickly and without conversation. Soon the wizarding family left the house.
One hour passed. Then another. Silence settled everywhere, as if no one lived there at all. The third hour, the fourth… Shadows crept from wall to wall, the clock hands kept moving, yet the house remained still — not asleep, but holding its breath, waiting for its masters. Soundless as a ghost, the girl went down to the library, took an oil lamp, and entered the tunnel.
She stood with her back against the trunk of the great tree, head resting on the bark. The lawn felt magical, as always. The sun shimmered with iridescent light, the stream with iridescent sound — and she fought to keep back her tears.
"It's your own fault. You didn't want to live. So watch life pass you by."
The tightness in her throat only grew.
"Eve?" came a voice from the edge of the clearing.
She quickly brushed away two tears. The young man approached hesitantly, then suddenly rushed to kiss her — her hands, her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead — carefully avoiding her lips.
"No. Stop," she cried, unable to bear it. "Stop — now. Don't you dare." She shook her head, shielding herself with her hands. Anger broke through her voice. "Don't you dare decide you're guilty. If that's what you think, don't touch me. Don't touch me — leave me alone." And then the helplessness surfaced. "I don't want to be guilty as well! I don't want to!"
She tore herself out of his arms and ran into the forest in tears. For a moment he stood frozen, watching her go. Then he understood and ran after her. Catching up, he held her tightly, breathing slowly and evenly without loosening his grip, trying to pass that steadiness into her. She struggled at first, desperate to break free, then collapsed against his chest, sobbing.
"It isn't your fault. It isn't mine. No one is to blame," he said, holding her. "Life isn't made of a single decision taken once. It's made of many decisions, by many people. As soon as I can, I'll take you away from here. We'll go somewhere no one knows us — somewhere you'll be able to live again."
"That visit wasn't the only one. Another followed. Then they began coming to us instead. On those days you used the device and left the house. You said you went to that same garden — the one I had described in enough detail for you to picture it. You said you found the willows and rested in their 'safety', swaying in a hammock woven from their branches. You didn't want to hear how those meetings went — not because you doubted my word, but the other way round. As with the past, you chose not to know because you wanted to trust your heart.
At least, that's how I understood it — or how I preferred to understand it. In truth, I had no idea what was happening with you. You came back calm, behaved as though nothing unpleasant was taking place. As though it concerned only my father's affairs and mine — not the fact that I was visiting another girl. Only your choice of hiding place suggested it wasn't so simple for you. But you said nothing. So I still don't know what truly lay behind what happened at the end of the summer — jealousy, despair… or nothing at all. Sometimes nothing is needed: a scent carried on a light breeze, shadows passing over a figure, a glance tracing the lines of a body, a memory surfacing. That's enough. But I was afraid. It was all too similar to that moment when the cliff returned. And I was afraid you would leave — more than that, that we would no longer be able to remain close."
"No. Eve — no. Stop." The lad had to use physical strength to draw her away from him — and another kind of strength to make himself do it. "Have you forgotten?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. No — I haven't forgotten. Sorry." She turned aside, drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly, steadying breath, mind, body. "I just… don't know. It hasn't come back for a long time, and I thought perhaps I didn't need it anymore. But you're right — it isn't worth the risk." She expected him to argue, but he did not.
"Even then I thought it was worth it. Time proved it — that was the moment that mattered. If I hadn't stopped you then… Still, it seems I brought it back myself, through fear."
"Perhaps we should find it," the girl said cautiously. She felt the tension at her back, but went on. "I mean — if we do, maybe it will let me go."
"No. What if it takes you instead?"
Her shoulders sagged; her head lowered to her knee.
"No."
"September began, and she went back to school — her final year. To mark it, I decided to arrange a small celebration for us. The 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness' had come, along with the harvest festivals. We went to one in a village farther out. We had a genuinely good time. There was a folklore carnival, music and dancing to match, a fair with handmade trinkets and local food, and a small amusement park. We tried nearly everything — you even talked me into learning a medieval dance."
"What about archery? Three hits out of five and you can pick a prize." The girl tugged him by the hand, wandering from one bright tent to another. "Oh — that hamster is adorable!"
"I've never done it before. Let me just buy it for you."
"That's no fun. I want you to win it for me."
"Then there's a real chance you'll go home without a gift." He had already accepted that he might embarrass himself today; he simply didn't want to disappoint her.
"That wouldn't be such a loss." She turned away from the toy as lightly as she had been drawn to it. "I'm not going home empty-handed anyway."
She gave him one of her warm smiles — the kind that lights the eyes. The tension that had held him tight like ice gave way, and he began to tease her.
"Don't you want to try it yourself?"
"Accuracy isn't really my talent. At best, I can swing at something with a sword — and even that's uncertain." She was easy about such things, always ready to laugh at herself.
"Are you that dryad?"
The child's voice came from behind them — so quiet and unsure that she didn't at first realise he was speaking to her. She turned and saw a familiar face. Her heart jolted, but she steadied herself and pretended not to recognise the boy.
"I beg your pardon — who?"
"The forest nymph." The boy stared at her wide-eyed, his expression a strange mix of excitement and fear.
"What makes you think that?" she asked with a light, feigned shyness.
"I don't know. Your voice. The feeling when you're near. And you recognised me — I saw that — so it must be you."
The smile left her face. Her eyes moved quickly through the crowd, searching for any other familiar faces. The lad touched her elbow and whispered,
"I can wipe his memory — we just need to step away from the crowd."
"What are you saying?" she whispered back sharply. "Absolutely not. He's a child. Let me speak to him."
She knelt before the boy, as she once had in the forest. "Hello… Listen — I didn't hurt you back then, did I?"
"Of course not! You saved me!"
"Good. But you remember what people were saying about that place, don't you? Why those boys brought you there and left you?"
"They wanted to frighten me. They thought a witch lived there."
"Exactly. And many probably still believe that. Only you know it isn't true. Unfortunately, people don't listen very well. So if you don't want me to be harmed, promise you won't tell anyone about me."
"You asked me to promise that last time too." The boy looked down, burdened with more guilt than one would expect at his age. "But I broke it — I told my brother about you. I'm sorry."
"Yes — he came and asked me to sing for him." She began to smile, but—
"Why did you do that to him?"
"Do what?"
"That day he came home barely conscious, covered in blood, and collapsed almost at once. Later, in hospital, he said it felt as if some animal had attacked him. He'd gone deep into the forest, following the nymph's voice. Then the voice stopped. He tried to find his way back but got lost. He began calling for you. And then something attacked him. First it tore his clothes, then his skin. He said nymphs do that to those who trespass — those who disturb their peace too boldly. He said it was his own fault, that he deserved it. But why were you so cruel to him?"
As she listened, fear spread through her — for herself, for the poet, for the child. "But… how is he now?"
"He's all right. The wounds were shallow. But he's very upset that you didn't like him. Now he writes very sad poems. The grown-ups say he's depressed."
"Oh — you frightened me." The colour drained from her face. "His poems weren't exactly cheerful even before. I'm sorry for that — but I'm sure he'll be all right. There'll be a nymph somewhere who says yes to him. Tell me — is he certain it wasn't a beast?"
"He is. The attacker was invisible."
She immediately remembered who had followed her out of the forest that day. She wanted to take the child's hands, but decided he might not welcome the touch.
"Listen. Forgive me. It's true — I led him into the thicket. But I never meant to leave him there; at some point I simply lost sight of him. And I didn't attack him, I swear. There was no reason to."
"I knew it wasn't you!" The child's mood shifted like a summer breeze. His face lit up again, and he didn't know what to do with his hands, so full of sudden excitement. "I told him my nymph would never do that — that it must have been another one!"
"Shh…" She caught his fluttering hands and gently brought them together to calm him. "And I think I can guess who it was. Your brother got off lightly."
"Come on — I'll show you the best things at the fair! Oh!" He turned back to her. "Why can I see you now?"
"That one's restless," she said softly. "See that stern young man there? I'll tell you a secret — I fell in love with him. To be with him, I asked our goddess to make me human. I'm not a nymph anymore."
No one else would have noticed, but the lad turned away as a flicker of pain crossed his face. "No — she isn't mocking. She can't be… she wouldn't"
"That's sad," the boy said after a pause. "I won't tell anyone about you — I promise. Not even my brother, so he won't be hurt again. But to me, you'll always be the forest nymph with rainbow eyes."
"Thank you." Laughing, she covered her flushed face — this time with genuine embarrassment.
"Come on! The best part's about to start!"
The boy seized her hand and pulled her along. She scrambled to her feet barely missing the hem of her dress and reached for the young man's hand so as not to lose him in the crowd.
The child led them first to the centre of the fair, where a performance was unfolding on the round open-air stage. Then he took them to the outskirts, where people were already gathering for the evening's finale. It was late and growing cold. The young wizard chose not to risk using his wand; instead, he put his jacket around her shoulders and drew close for warmth. With his arms around her, chin resting lightly on her head, they stood together and watched the fireworks.
When they got home, they went to her sitting room — that was where they always said goodnight.
"Oh — wait. Don't switch on the light. Look how beautiful it is."
The curtains were open, and the soft, diffused glow of the full moon filled the room. It felt as if another element had entered the space — a quiet underwater world suspended in air. At any moment, it seemed, translucent creatures might begin their slow, hypnotic drifting. She stepped into the light and reached out to touch it.
The glow shifted — coiling around her in a pale spiral, tightening, then settling across her dress like fine silver dust. Laughing, she turned, delighted, and looked at the young man, wand still raised in his hand. Then she faced the window again, studying her reflection.
A moment later his reflection appeared behind her, his gaze fixed on her luminous outline. He did not look away as he began to undo the buttons of her dress — one by one. He kept his eyes on her face when he reached the last, low at her back, and slid his hands beneath the loosened fabric. His palms found her skin and moved slowly upward. He saw her eyes close, her expression soften. He felt the tension leave her body, felt how little it would take for her knees to give way.
His hands rose to her shoulders, easing the fabric down. Just before it slipped free, she caught it and held it to her chest. She turned to him, her face flushed, her expression suddenly steady.
"What do you think you're going to do?"
"To love you," he said quietly, certain, his fingertips tracing down her spine. "Don't you want that?"
She gathered herself, holding every thought in place by force.
"You know I do. And you know what it risks. You decided yourself it wasn't worth it."
He drew a breath and let it out sharply — frustrated with the corner he himself had made.
"I've changed my mind."
"Why? Because you want it now? And it doesn't matter if you regret it later?"
"I already regret," her brow tightened, then eased, "stopping you then — and now you're stopping me. What did I expect? It can't stay like this forever."
"It can't," she echoed softly.
"You told the boy you loved me. You've never said it so plainly before. Was that a joke?"
"No. Of course not — I wouldn't joke about that." She steadied herself. "I'll find a way through — I promise. I just don't know how yet. And I'm not ready to lose you. Please understand. Today was beautiful. I don't want you to leave angry…"
But his face had already softened; for a moment his eyes were bright with unguarded affection. Before she could finish, he pulled her into a tight embrace. He kissed her warmly on the forehead and held her against his chest. She let out a breath of relief — though not all of the tension left her.
***
The girl snapped the book shut and slid it back among the others packed tightly on the shelves. She found herself standing in the middle of a room that felt only faintly familiar. Opposite the bookcase stood a sofa; between them, an armchair and a coffee table. By the window there was another table, smaller and round, with a single chair beside it. A half-open door in the adjoining wall led to a bedroom.
After a slow look around, she moved towards the exit. She stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind her, remaining there with her back against it, her hand still on the handle. A few seconds passed before she lifted her head and began to take in her surroundings with growing surprise — almost curiosity.
The corridor ran in two directions. One way led past a row of closed doors and ended at a wall hung with a painting. The other opened onto a wooden staircase. She chose the stairs.
After several flights she emerged into a bright hall filled with potted greenery. Sofas, chairs and small tables were arranged in clusters, forming quiet corners for privacy. One wall was almost entirely glass, with a door opening onto the garden.
A tall, slender blond young man came in through it and spoke to her as though they had parted only hours ago.
"Eve — where have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere." He searched her face. "Are you all right? You look as if you don't recognise the house — or me. Where's the pendant?" His breathing quickened when he saw her bare neck.
"What pendant?"
"My pendant — the one I made for you. Did you lose it? That's impossible — it was warded. So you took it off? Why? Eve, why?" He caught her by the shoulders, alarm sharpening his voice. "Where is it? It may not be too late…"
"II don't know what you're talking about." His agitation fed her own; she felt fear rising fast.
"You were wearing it this morning. When you went out for your walk. I didn't see you come back, so—" He was half speaking to himself now. "Where have you been?"
"I don't remember."
"Where have you been?!" His grip tightened.
"I don't know — I don't remember!" She was shaking.
"All right." He shut his eyes briefly and drew a steadying breath. When he spoke again, his voice was controlled. "Where did you come from just now — into the hall? From the garden?"
She said nothing.
"From upstairs?"
"From upstairs…" Her voice and gaze seemed to surface through fog.
"From your room?"
"From a room…"
"Can you show me?"
She led him up the stairs she had just descended.
"Not this floor?" he asked as they passed the corridor where her room lay.
She shook her head and continued upward.
"This one?" He looked at the door with disbelief — the door behind which she had been kept for the past year.
She turned and backed away from the stairs towards the door, one hand held behind her until it found the handle. Then she gave a small confirming nod. He stared at her in disbelief, but opened the door she indicated and stepped inside with her.
"Do you recognise it?"
"No."
"Did you leave it here?"
His voice had the stillness that comes just before a storm. She heard it and braced in dread, waiting for it to break. Yet the terror of her own condition had already taken hold of her, and somewhere inside she still hoped he might pity her.
"I don't know. I don't remember. I remember nothing — absolutely nothing."
Her eyes, wide and unfocused, kept moving — from object to object, to him, to the doorway, and back again. There was a plea in them, but it found no answer. He looked at her with anger — and something close to contempt.
"Isn't this what you wanted? When you took the pendant off — wasn't this the point? To forget. Forget what? Forget who? Me? Is that what you meant by a 'way out'?" His eyes shone with tears. "Then go! Go your own way — no one's stopping you. No one ever did. Go to your cliff! Leave me alone!!"
The door slammed in her face.
She stood frozen before it, stunned by what he had said. Silence followed — he must have been standing on the other side just as still. Then something struck the door hard; it shuddered in its frame. She flinched and bolted down the stairs.
Panic overtook her. Back in the conservatory hall, she dropped to her knees, folding over herself, arms wrapped tight across her stomach. It felt as if her mind were trapped between those two rooms and the corridor connecting them, beating helplessly against the walls. She rocked where she sat, breath coming too fast, broken now and then by a low, involuntary sound.
A blond man and woman — the same fair colouring as the young man — found her there and hurried over at once.
"Was it my son? Did he find you? Did he hurt you?"
She looked up at the woman without recognition.
"No. I hurt him. Badly. I didn't mean to — I don't know. I don't understand why. He said something about a pendant. That I took it off. But I don't understand. I don't remember anything. Not you, not him — not even myself."
The couple exchanged a quick look. After quietly confirming where the boy was, the woman headed for the stairs. The man helped the girl to her feet and led her out into the garden, settling her on a bench.
A glass flew out from the house and filled itself with water mid-air before dropping neatly into his hand. He passed it to her. She stared at it without blinking, lips slightly parted.
"Forgive me — I have to leave you for a moment," he said, studying her face. "Try not to think about anything. Truly — it will be easier for you that way."
The girl gathered her courage and took a sip. Just water — nothing unusual. She tried again to remember something, but if memory were a house, she would not even know where to look for it. Realising this led nowhere, she resolved to draw what she could from what she had seen and heard — but the idea ran dry almost at once. At last she closed her eyes and deliberately emptied her mind.
A soft pop sounded beside her.
She opened her eyes and cried out. The glass slipped from her fingers, dropping towards the ground, then halted mid-air.
A very strange creature stood before her: small, with thin arms and legs, an oversized head, wide burdock-like ears, sparse hair, round bulging eyes and a long nose, dressed in something that looked like a pillowcase. It shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, yet its expression was gentle and full of sympathy.
"Young mistress…" a thin, trembling voice piped.
The girl shook her head in confusion. A white bird, pigeon-sized, darted past. The creature followed it with its eyes, which filled with tears, then stepped closer and lightly closed its long fingers around her wrists. They remained like that in silence while the red sun slowly sank behind the forest.
After a time they heard a faint rustle behind them — someone approaching with care. An elderly woman emerged, looking no less confused or frightened than the girl. She seemed unable to decide what she was seeing — a ghost, a miracle, or a monster. From the way the household reacted, the girl gathered that this woman did not belong to the family, which meant something was about to happen. For reasons she could not explain, she felt she did not want it to. The creature's fingers began gently stroking her hands in reassurance.
"Miss…" the visitor faltered. "Ev…" she tried again.
"He — that young man," the girl said, unable to recall his name, "called me Eve."
"The young master always called her that. Yes. He…"
"What are you doing here?" The blonde woman only now seemed to notice the maid. "I forbade you to go near her. What have you told her already?"
Her tone was sharp; the creature shrank back.
"Nothing. I only…"
"Don't lie. You'll only make things worse for the girl if you lie."
"She's telling the truth. She said nothing," the girl said quietly. "Only when she appeared did she call me 'young mistress'."
"Leave us."
"No," the visitor interrupted. "I want to speak with the elf. In private."
They moved off into the darkness. Deeper in the garden a small light appeared — like a candle flame, but burning with unnatural steadiness. They spoke for about a quarter of an hour. Throughout, the others remained silent. The girl kept her eyes fixed on the sharp outlines of the visitor's hat and the elf's ears, trying, by their movements, to read not the subject of the conversation but at least its mood. When they returned, the visitor gave the hosts a stern look and said only that she must now speak with the girl.
That conversation was brief.
"I don't want to go," the girl said at last. "I don't want to leave him like this."
"But you don't even know who he is."
"It doesn't matter. I want to explain everything to him."
"But you don't even know who you are."
"It doesn't matter. We'll find a way to understand each other."
The visitor drew a deep breath, but it did not ease her.
"Have mercy on you both. Come — we're going."