Chapter 8 #2
So, I did. I shared my memories, painting him a vivid picture of my childhood.
I described the manor house where we lived, surrounded by sprawling fields and dense woods.
I spoke about running through those trees as a small child and playing hide-and-seek with my friends.
I told him how in my middle school years I would lie in the grass, watching the clouds as they drifted on by, imagining animals in their fluffy depths.
I reminisced about the comforting presence of my father, reading to me and kissing my bruises when I stumbled and fell. I shared with him the special relationship I had with my Aunt Sarah and the bond between us. I spoke of the memories I’d created with my mother.
And then there was the night that changed everything.
The car accident. The call from Sarah. The never-ending trip in the middle of the night, where I had fled home, only to learn that both my parents were dead.
His hand tightened around mine as I recounted that painful memory and my words were punctuated by his reactions, his expressions, and his questions.
Lastly, I told him about the trip to Scotland. About my search for answers and why I felt the way I did. I explained the letter I’d found. The conversation with my aunt and how betrayed I felt when she told me the truth. How my life felt like a lie.
How I was angry.
Angry at my parents. Angry at Sarah. Angry at the mistruths. Angry that all my life I had felt like I didn’t belong, and my family had known the reason why the whole time.
“Your life is not a lie, little bird. Maybe your life has only just begun. Have you thought about that?”
I didn’t know whether that made sense or not, so mulled it over as we walked on. I did, however, like the nickname he seemed to have given me.
A short while later the grass gave way to dirt, and before long, we were walking down what I could only describe as a road. Albeit a rugged, dusty one.
“We will be in Reverran soon,” Caelan stated, answering my unspoken question.
“When we get closer, I bid you put on the cloak and pull up the hood. It’s not often the townsfolk see one such as you and they may get a bit excited.
We are just passing through, and I don’t want to be waylaid by too many questions. ”
I agreed with a pinch of my brows, curious about what the town looked like.
Caelan had cut about a foot off his cloak two days prior, so I no longer had to worry about tripping over the hem.
The bottom now swung just above my booted feet, the thick wool covering me from top to toe.
We had been using the excess material as a pillow of sorts when we stopped for the night, but for now, it was wrapped around Caelan’s shoulders, like an oversized scarf.
When the town came into view, I pulled up the hood as he instructed, but could not help but gape at everything I saw.
The village looked just like the ones I had seen in the Scottish Highlands, but from centuries ago.
There were no cars. No power poles. No streetlights.
Only cobblestone paths and stone cottages.
Some had thatched roofs, though most were made of wood.
Smoke choked the air, puffing from every chimney.
It was all so very quaint. And surprisingly normal. There were pigs and chickens behind wooden gates. Vegetable gardens and woodpiles. Barns and carts and hay. But what really intrigued me were the people.
Fae.
I tested the word out in my mouth. They appeared just like me, but had the most unusual ears I had ever seen, pointed at the top.
Their clothing was similar to Caelan’s, but did not look as well made.
Children ran about the streets, laughing and playing tag, making me smile with their squeals of delight. They looked happy. Peaceful. Normal.
As we moved through the village, some townsfolk stopped and stared, whispering words I did not understand. Caelan kept his hand on my elbow, urging me forward. I wasn’t sure why he felt the need, as I had no intention to stop, but he didn’t let go. Then I heard something that made me pause.
“Sìthbheire.”
A group of fae were glancing our way. Pointing and whispering.
I don’t know how they knew or what gave me away, but that word was one I had heard before, and it made me stop and look directly at them.
A fae male looked back at me curiously. Caelan quickly hurried me along before I could stop and ask, and when I glanced back, that male was still watching me, following our steps with his strange eyes.
The road out of the village weaved through some more woods, thick trees lining the way. I moved to take my hood down.
“Leave it up,” Caelan cautioned. “We will be in Wyndaryn soon. You can remove it once we are inside the keep.”
“The keep?” I asked, lowering my hands, hood still firmly in place.
“Aye.”
That wasn’t an answer, but my attention had been drawn by a movement to my left. Something was shadowed within the trees. Hiding in the dark. I hesitated, wanting to peer closer, but Caelan hurried me along.
“Don’t stop,” he said, dragging me forward.
“What was that?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder.
“Just the guards in the trees.”
Frowning, I looked up at him. “What guards…?” I trailed off, though, as we emerged from the trees and the sight before me was revealed. It stole my breath, punching me in my chest.
A towering castle shimmered into view, far in the distance. Its circular turrets reached high into the sky. The sun seemed to cast its rays precisely over it, bathing it in a golden glow.
I turned to Caelan, my eyes wide. “What is that?” I asked breathlessly.
A small smile hovered on his lips, and he gazed at the castle with pride.
“Wyndaryn,” he answered. “Home.”