Reshina
The Underrealm opened from a dark tunnel into a massive hall of stone. Chipped into the walls were creatures of long spindly legs and arms, clawed hands and soulless eyes. They were carved en masse, reaching toward the pinnacle statue at the center of the cavern.
Piffle continued leading the way, oblivious to the sublime of the hall, his little boots echoing with a steady drip of water from somewhere nearby.
The center statue must have been over thirty feet, carved from the same dark stone that I’d fallen through. Torches lined the walls, and I walked across black marble, streaks of white spread throughout.
“Piffle,” I said softly, “who is that?”
The little fae turned to me, then back to the statue dominating the hall. “Tis the Master’s father, Mistress Reshina.”
The heels of my shoes clacked along the stone. “And these creatures?” I stepped closer to the wall, tracing my fingers over the carvings.
“The Mistress has never seen an Underfae before?”
My brows rose. Indeed, I had not. “The Underfae Goddess does not look like her faekind?”
He shrugged. “Do all Goddesses typically?”
“Yes,” I replied, frowning. Though Ishtak was a haggard old woman, she did not look like these creatures at least.
“Would…would you like a rest, Mistress? Perhaps a good meal before you settle in for the night? I am a fine cook. Or some tea?” He tugged at my sleeve. “What of some nice hot tea and a good rest?”
“Piffle,” I started, taking back my sleeve, “are you trying to distract me from our task at hand?”
“N-no!” He clutched his hands at his chest worriedly. “Yes,” he confessed, letting out a breath of air. “It’s just that the Master said to take care of you. And reminded me that you are not to venture down the western corridor.”
“Piffle,” I began again, “would you please point north for me?”
He grinned wide, pointing directly at the monumental statue of the late King of Heartstone.
“Thank you. You may wait here if you wish.” I took several steps in the direction of the western tunnel, darker than any other that branched off the great hall.
His tugging on my dress came quicker than I would have liked, and in a flash of irritation, I grabbed ahold of my skirts, yanking them out of his hands.
“Please!” he begged. “You mustn't!”
“Ishtak will not harm me,” I said dismissively, picking up my pace. “She cannot. And I will not harm her either.”
The little thing could run faster than I’d expected, and as I neared the looming dark, a golden door appeared over the entrance.
Large black eyes popped over the surface and soon thereafter a squat nose and little mouth. “Mistress, you must listen!” the door cried.
I gritted my teeth and crossed my arms. “Are you locked?”
The sound of a locking mechanism clicked through the hall. “Yes.”
“Unlock the door, Piffle,” I commanded, losing any patience I had left.
“Alright, but hear my warning again, Goddess Divine.”
I sighed, keeping my mouth shut, waiting for him to finish his piece.
The golden door cleared its throat. “I cannot say why you mustn't go. But I can say that there is a good reason Master Arthur has forbidden it.”
“And what is this very good reason?”
A booming voice echoed across the hall. “A slow death awaits all who enter the western corridor.”
I jumped, turning swiftly. The very king I meant to avoid came strolling into the room from one of the eastern tunnels. “Thank you, Piffle, for keeping our guest from entering.”
I raised my chin, flaring my wings behind me.
“I am a Goddess of the Veil. Whatever you think will harm me, I promise, it will not.” I turned away from him, focusing my attention back on the locked door.
“Now unlock yourself this instant.” The click of the lock resounded and a smile pulled at my lips as I reached for the golden handle.
“Piffle,” Arthur snapped, crossing the hall swiftly, “lock the door.”
Another click.
“Unlock the door now, Piffle,” I commanded again, this time my hand already on the handle, ready to open it.
The click came, but the king was ready.
“Lock it, Piffle.”
Again a click.
I turned in a flash of anger, finding the king mere inches from me, his hand already reaching for mine.
“You dare use my servant against me?” he growled.
I scoffed in utter disbelief. “You dare counter the wishes of a Goddess?”
“This is my realm, not yours. I rule here.”
“A Goddess rules everywhere,” I fumed, “and the Underrealm is Ishtak’s domain, not a king’s.” I shook my head. “I don’t have time for your foolishness.” I swatted his hand away. “Remove yourself from this entrance, Piffle.”
The door disappeared and the little fae was beside me, worrying his hands again.
Gazing into the utter darkness from the tunnel was like staring into an abyss. Light cast from the torches in the hall fell prey to the hungry mouth of the tunnel’s opening, refusing to illuminate more than a few feet within.
“Right,” I stated assuredly. “I will speak to Ishtak about this curse and find a way out of it. You may stay here if you wish.”
“But Mistress!” Piffle squeaked, slapping his hands over his mouth again.
Arthur’s arm blocked my way in an instant. It was massive and straining against his linen shirt as if growing in size right before my eyes.
I furrowed my brow, turning to look at the man.
But he was not a man. Not entirely so.
His chest heaved with the labor of breathing and two horns, black and segmented, pointed out from the top of his head. Twin fangs began to grow down over his lips, and I clucked my tongue.
“Don’t tell me you can’t control the Beast.”
“Only…” he breathed, pausing between words. “When…I’m…angry.”
“Ha! Just like a man to not know how to control his temper.”
“This is control,” he growled, closing his eyes with a deep inhale.
“Hardly.” I moved to step under his growing arm, but he lowered it.
“The Beast!” Piffle squealed in alarm.
I gave my own growl of frustration, ready to force my way past him.
When I spun to face him, I stopped.
His head, cast in shadow, was half beast, half man, the long scar down his face shining white in the dim glowing light. Eyes of brilliant blue glared back at me.
They held a pain that was rare to see, but one I recognized. I took a good look at him, fascinated by his transformation from man to beast. His yellow hair, soft and curled slightly at the ends, was a direct opposite to the coarse, dark fur sprouting alongside his face and neck.
Giving him a few moments to catch his breath seemed to help as his face began to return to its pale hue, his fangs receding back into his mouth.
“How did you do that?” I asked, curious about his ability to control the curse.
He relaxed, dropping his arm. “The Beast is not easy to control. But if he had been released down here with you…” He scratched his neck where the fur had bloomed. “It would have been worse than anything you’d meet in the western corridor.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning, Goddess. About the Beast and this tunnel.” He gestured at the consuming dark. “If you choose to enter, I cannot promise you will come out.”
For the first time, I paused at his words. There was very little that could kill a Goddess of the Veil.
Some things.
Some actions.
But few and far between were the fae or humans of the realm who knew of them.
I stared down the hopeless dark. “You cannot tell me why you have forbidden the western corridor?”
“I cannot.”
“Because Ishtak has forbidden it?”
“Because when the curse took me, and I spent my first night in the Underrealm, it was the first thing she showed me and the first thing she ensured I would never be able to speak of.” He kept his eyes on me, jutting his chin toward Piffle. “Him as well.”
It wasn’t unheard of for a Goddess to keep her secrets close. I had my own, but whatever it was down that corridor, I sensed the other Goddesses of the Veil would not approve.
I squared my shoulders, raising my chin. “I need to speak with Ishtak.”
“I can try to arrange it.”
“Good enough,” I concluded, adding, “For now. Piffle, you may see me to my rooms. And I’d like that cup of tea as well.”
Practically buzzing, he skittered forward. “This way, Your Ravishingness!”
Arthur’s brows furrowed at the title and I lifted my lips in a sly smile. “Your servant is quite enthralled, it seems.”
I followed Piffle toward a lit corridor to the east, hearing the king mutter behind me, “Aren’t we all.”
The Underrealm was far more than just a few dank tunnels, as myself and the other Goddesses had been led to believe.
In truth, there was no reason for any of us faekind on the surface to venture down into this realm, having no real business nor care for the Underfae. Their existence was simply that.
To exist.
No curses ever came for them beyond the Veil.
No Underfae ever found their way above ground. At least none that I knew of.
Therefore, it unnerved me to walk through the Underrealm, taking in the dark stone arches and pillars carved in intricate patterns.
For each turn through the corridors, I became more amazed and bemused.
I stopped under a fork in our path that led to three different corridors under ribbed vaulting, astounded at the masterwork of each arched entrance to a new pathway.
“Piffle,” I started, “do you know who built all of this?”
He stopped, craning his neck up to the tall vaulted stone ceiling. “It’s been like this as long as I’ve been down here, Mistress.”
“And how long has that been?”
He continued on, turning right down a new corridor glowing in soft candlelight. “Since the day you brought the curse to Master Arthur’s father, Master André.”
“You’ve been down here for over fifty years?”
He nodded without stopping. “I leave on occasion to gather supplies the Master needs. Ah!” He stopped at a door inlaid into the stone walls.
The detailed curvature around the framework must have been from an architectural genius, as on closer inspection, each curve inset into another, detailing vines with pointed thorns.
I traced my fingers along the stone, marveling at the work.
“Does the Mistress like the entrance to her room?”
I jumped back, in a gasp. The question came from a tea cart, or rather, a tea kettle with eyes and a mouth.
“Piffle, please…warn me somehow before you change into an inanimate object. It’s disorienting.”
“Apologies! You are my first guest in many years and…well…the Master is used to my changes by now. I shall do better.”
The kettle rose into the air on its own, hovering above a porcelain cup. “Tea?” it asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
I pressed on the door latch and stepped inside the room, the rattling wheels of the cart sounding behind me. Before I could mention the dark, flame erupted from the chandelier hanging from more ribbed vaulting at the center of the room.
Along one wall, a massive four poster bed was draped in luscious deep green linens with plum curtains pulled back at each post. Piles of pillows framed the headboard, carved from dark wood and detailed with varying states of roses in bloom.
I walked across the black marble floor, peeking into the small washing room to see it complete with a sink, stone tub carved into the wall, and all the finest amenities of Revelry above the surface. A massive fireplace took up the wall opposite the bed with a dark purple settee near the fire.
The cart rolled into the room, and Piffle finished the tea pour. I took the cup into my cold hands and sipped it quietly, more questions forming in my mind.
“This is a fine room,” I began. “Has it been occupied before?”
Piffle poked at the fire, no longer a cart, but back to his Changlingfae form. “I keep it up to standard.”
“Up to whose standard?”
He turned in a flash with a large grin. “Why, the standard of the Master’s cursebreaker, of course! Cannot have the woman who was brought to break it live in a dusty old room, now can I? What an embarrassment that would be!” He chuckled to himself, fluffing up a beaded pillow on the couch.
“And…no other has been brought down here as part of the curse?”
“None since the Master’s mother.”
“Was this her room?”
He shook his head quickly. “The Master has closed off that room. Bad memories and all that. He allows me to keep this one ready.”
“Ready for?”
“For the woman who will love him, of course! He is quite Goddessblessed indeed to have captured one who is a Goddess herself!” He darted around the room, adjusting a candlestick here, the corner of a rug there.
“Mistress Reshina, I do hope this room is to your liking.” He fumbled with his hands again.
“I’ve gathered all the necessary amenities you’ll need and with just a few minor color adjustments, I believe you will be most comfortable for your time here. ”
I exhaled softly, sitting by the fire. “That won’t be necessary, Piffle. The color of the room is most agreeable.”
“Oh!” he shouted, slapping a hand across his mouth and running to the tall armoire in the corner.
“No! I meant for these!” He flung the doors open wide, a rush of brilliantly hued fabric swishing out from behind them.
Pinks and pale greens, patterns of florals and shades of sky blue fell from the hooks one by one as he yanked them to the floor.
“These would never do, never, never do,” he mumbled, gathering the gowns in his hands and tripping more than once as he crossed the room.
“Forgive me, Goddess of Beauty, I assumed the Cursebreaker would wear something similar to Mistress Marianna, but, oh! Foolish Piff! These are not for you at all!”
Rubbing a hand across my temple I held in a yawn. “It is not necessary to obtain a new wardrobe as I will not be here long enough to need one.” I glanced down to the tears in my black silken skirts and the snags in the lace of my sleeves.
A shame to be sure.
I loved this dress.
“I…I will find you something suitable to sleep in, Mistress. Although I do not see how you could fall in love with the man and that Beast in less than a day, but I am not an expert in such things, either.”
“I’ll find another way to leave,” I said, setting my cup on a small table and bringing my legs up onto the cushions and closing my eyes.
“PILLOW!”
The yell hardly sounded before a stuffed velvet pillow found its way underneath my head, jolting me upwards. “What in the…” I trailed, finding Piffle’s face across the golden cushion.
“You said to warn you before I changed. Was that not what you meant?” it said, slightly muffled and with a bit of stuffing coming from the corner of its mouth.
“What? I—no—” I released a huff of air. “Piffle, I do not need another pillow. I need to lay down for a bit. You may leave now.”
He was a fae again, bowing low and backing out of the room. “Of course, Your Radiance! If you need me, you shall only call my name down the hall and I will be with you—”
“Thank you,” I interrupted. “That will be all for now.”
With an enormous grin, he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. And with the soft click of the door, I fell across the settee, sleep overtaking me faster than expected.