Something shifted—quietly—between Elara and Elder Liliana.
Liliana's eyes rested on me, steady and unreadable. She wasn't sharp with judgment or cold; she was just… looking. It felt like she was taking in more than my face; she was watching my breath, the way I stood there slightly unsure of where to place my hands, clearly confused by the sudden weight of her attention.
Around us, the crowd had grown. More Fae approached, their attention locked on the scene, each face more beautiful than the last. They weren't closing in or circling us like a threat; they were just watching. It was that way people do when something unusual is happening and curiosity finally outweighs fear. Faces leaned forward slightly. Conversations hushed, then resumed in low murmurs. No one touched me. No one blocked my path. They were simply watching the show, eyes flicking between Liliana, Elara, and the girl they'd never seen before.
Liliana noticed them, too. Her gaze moved outward, catching the shared tension and the unspoken questions hanging in the air. Then she looked back at me and smiled—wide, sudden, and unsettling in its brightness.
Before I could react, Elara stepped half a pace forward, blocking me, protecting me.
Liliana laughed. The sound came out far younger than she looked—lighter, too. It was too light. The sound skipped across the square, and something about it made my skin prickle in disgust.
"Ah," Liliana said, looking genuinely amused. "So young. So alive."
The Fae parted naturally as she moved through them. They weren't rushed or afraid; they just gave way because, after all, Liliana was a respectable elder from the Council. Then she was gone, her cane tapping softly against the stone until the sound faded into the bustle of the town.
The moment passed. Breath finally returned to the square.
Hyacinth exhaled loudly, as if she'd been holding it the whole time. "Well then," she said briskly, looping her arm through mine before I could even think to protest. "No sense standing around staring. Come."
She guided me toward the center of Springtown, and my head was spinning trying to take it all in. The marketplace wasn't just a place to buy things; it was a living, breathing thing. We passed stalls draped in silks that looked like they were woven from spiderwebs and dipped in moonlight. One table was piled high with fruits I didn't recognize—pear-shaped things that glowed with a soft, inner violet light, and berries that smelled like a thunderstorm.
I saw a blacksmith working at an open forge, but he wasn't hammering iron. He was bending glass-like metal with his bare hands, his skin shimmering with sweat that looked like liquid gold. Every few steps, the "mosaic" of the crowd struck me again. I saw women with braided hair threaded with living vines, and men with eyes the color of polished amber. There were people who looked so much like me—rich, dark skin and deep-set eyes—that I had to remind myself I was a world away from home. It was a strange, beautiful shock to see myself reflected in a place so magical.
The space opened into a wide clearing anchored by a towering tree whose roots curved openly into the ground like giant, wooden veins. Water flowed at its base, clear and gentle, from a fountain carved from stone and time.
Hyacinth raised her voice, her tone warm and inviting. "We've got a guest!"
A few men lounging near the fountain turned at once.
"Guest?" one of them echoed, grinning. He had a face that looked like it was carved from mahogany, handsome and sharp.
"Where from?" another asked, leaning back with a look of genuine interest.
Before I could answer, Hyacinth tilted her head toward me. "This is Ember."
"Ember?" one of them repeated thoughtfully. "That's a lovely name."
"Nice to meet you, Ember," another said easily.
Someone else laughed, a bright, melodic sound. "Do you dance, Ember?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "I—what?"
"Doesn't matter," one of the musicians said cheerfully. He was already reaching for a strange, polished instrument that looked like a cross between a lute and a harp. "You'll learn."
The first note fell into the air, shimmering. Then another. Music began to bloom—not loud, not sudden, but rolling out gently and pulling smiles from people as it spread. It wasn't like the music back home. It didn't just sit in your ears; it felt like it was vibrating in the marrow of my bones. A drum started up, a low, earthy thrum that matched the rhythm of a heartbeat.
The younglings appeared first, darting forward and moving to the beat without any instruction. They twirled and leaped, their laughter weaving into the melody. Someone clapped, then another, creating a secondary rhythm that felt like a warm embrace.
"Come on," Hyacinth said, giving me a little nudge. "Just move."
I hesitated for half a heartbeat, my boots feeling heavy on the glass-like stones. Then, I did.
My feet found the rhythm before my thoughts could catch up. I laughed—totally surprised at myself—and jumped in. I was spinning awkwardly at first, feeling that old clunky human self trying to keep up, but then the music just took over. I felt freer as the notes sank into my chest and my limbs. It didn't demand perfection; it demanded joy. It welcomed me exactly as I was, sweat and all.
So, I danced.
I danced long enough to forget the weird, heavy look Liliana had given me. I danced long enough to forget the headache and the fear and the way my old life used to feel like a cage. Sweat gathered at my temples, my laughter feeling loose and real. The music grew faster, more urgent, and I found myself caught in a circle of dancers, their hands brushing mine, their warmth grounding me. At some point, I even climbed onto the edge of the fountain, water splashing against my boots as I kept moving to the beat, feeling like I was finally, finally alive.
"Careful," Elara called out, laughing. "You'll hurt yourself."
I just grinned and kept dancing, the sun warming my skin and the music filling my head.
Then, my heart thudded. Once. Hard.
I turned my head sharply to the right. At the far edge of the square, someone was standing perfectly still. I couldn't see his face clearly—the distance blurred his features—but I knew he was looking at me. I knew that our eyes met.
My heart slammed again, loud and sudden, the sound filling my entire chest. I felt a pull low in my gut, sharp and aching.
"Kae—" I started to whisper, the name slipping out before I could think, but my hand was tugged gently. I looked down and saw Elara smiling up at me, bright and teasing.
When I looked back, he was gone. The space where he'd been stood empty.
The loss hit me harder than I expected, leaving a hollow ache behind my ribs. Sadness pooled there, quick and unwelcome, making my memories feel shaky and thin. But before it could take hold, hands reached for me—Hyacinth was laughing, and the younglings were calling my name, pulling me back into the bright, noisy warmth of the circle.
"Ember!"
"Come back!"
I waved, my chest tight and my eyes stinging. I had never felt like this before. So welcomed. So wanted. This experience had healed something inside me; it had touched a place I didn't even know was there. The children's laughter helped distract me from the sadness of that unknown moment.
Eventually, the music slowed, and Elara led me away. Ashthorne was standing nearby with his friends, watching me with an intense look I couldn't quite read. I felt the heat creep up my neck. He stepped forward, easily taking the basket from our hands, his eyes flicking over my sweaty face.
"Looks like someone had fun," he said dryly.
I was glad for my skin tone in that moment, hiding the depth of my flush as my smile came without any effort at all. We walked home together as evening settled in, the sky turning a deep, bruised purple. Our laughter echoed softly through the trees, and for the first time in years, I felt full.
But later that night, the restlessness returned. I found myself alone in the thick of the forest, my destination unknown. My feet seemed to be guiding me, and my heart was finally trusting them. I felt no fear, only a strange sense of anticipation, like I was walking toward something that had been waiting for me for a very long time.
As I broke through the treeline, I stopped. It was the most beautiful lake I had ever seen, the water as still and dark as obsidian. It felt astonishingly familiar, even though through the haze of my mind, I knew I had never been here before.
I turned my head to the right.
A man was sitting there, his feet in the water. His face was cloaked in darkness, hidden by the deep shadows of the trees, but his presence felt massive. When he spoke, his voice was a gritty, harsh rasp that sounded like stone grinding on stone, yet it carried a noble edge that demanded I stay exactly where I was.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked.