Chapter 12 Paeonia
?PAEONIA
Paeonia didn’t have a choice as the flora pulled and tugged at her heartstrings, succumbing to the floral magic as it guided her through bushes and around trees.
Unease flooded her system but, as if caught in a daze, her legs moved on their own accord, unable to resist the glittering flowers and sprouting mushrooms.
She hadn’t any idea how long she had been trekking through the woods, but eventually, she came to a small coppice.
She cleared her vision, the mushrooms forming a circle, a faery ring for each of her footfalls.
A faint fog rolled in the distance, making it difficult to see beyond the tiny clearing.
The jagged branches above hung with cobwebs, dancing shadows scattered over the forest floor.
The leaves crackled beneath her slippers.
A tree shuddered and caught her gaze, something moving and emerging from the thicket.
A tiny creature. Paeonia focused, attempting to make sense of the fluttering form before her, her heart palpitating.
She had never seen any woodland creature like it, hunched over, no taller than a small dog, resembling a mushroom, its body filiferous, gills along its rounded head like that of the underbelly of a mushroom cap.
It approached her, its eyes a deep brown, giving her a mischievous look. “The toadstool queen,” it said softly. “Our toadstool queen.” Its voice was light and airy, layered with mist, a soft melodic tune.
Paeonia bent forward, another emerging hesitantly behind the first. “Why, hello,” she greeted softly, her mind still too hazy to be afraid. They blinked one eye at a time at her in response. “What are you?”
The little creature crept closer in the setting sunlight, the other lingering behind as if it was still deciding what to make of Paeonia. “Toadstool queen,” it said again, now at her feet.
Paeonia shook her head. “I’m no mushroom.” She gave the creature a gentle smile, amused by being knighted with such a title. It reached for her hand, and Paeonia tentatively accepted it, unsure of what else to do. “Did you lead me here?” she asked.
The creature took her deeper into the thicket, and Paeonia gasped, other mushroom-shaped creatures beginning to surround her. Some sitting on branches in the trees, some creeping in the bushes. There had to be almost fifty of them spread about.
With gaping eyes, she let the little creature lead her to a tree stump, and it gestured for her to sit. They looked at her with large, curious eyes, all oddly blinking out of sync. She gave a small wave, and some of them made a cooing noise as if they were giggling in joy.
The two beside her began to dress her hair in a crown after she sat. “What are you doing?” she asked.
The creatures placed a necklace of toadstools around her neck, some sticking tiny twigs and flowers into her hair. She found it silly, laughing as they decorated her.
“Toadstool queen,” the first one said again.
Paeonia shook her head. “I am not a mushroom. Nor a queen.”
The creatures froze, a quiet hissing noise stirring from one in the back.
Her eyes dropped, her smile faltering. One of them gestured to the other, and another approaching, carrying a cordage made of twisting vines.
It made an odd noise as if they were talking to each other through clicking sounds.
Paeonia struggled as they tied her hands together.
She gave an anxious laugh. “What are—?”
“They think you’re the queen of the flora. Come to care for them,” a solid voice spoke.
Paeonia shifted in her seat, spying a taller creature, shaped more like a tree, walking out into the small space. “What—?” Her words slipped from her.
“A Gleam Fae, alive and well for them,” it added. “To come back for them. To nurture them.”
Paeonia scoffed, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not a Gleam Fae.”
“No?” the tree-like being asked disapprovingly, approaching her, the mushroom creatures scurrying out of the way. “And how else do you think you’re able to talk to the flora? Get them to do as you wish?”
Paeonia harrumphed. “I don’t… They just… I don’t mean to…”
“The last of the Gleam Fae,” it breathed. “You are to be the Gloamcap’s queen alongside the guardian. You are to right the humans’ wrongs.”
“There must be some mistake.”
“The forest never makes mistakes. The Eldritch will tell you.”
The tree-being watched as Paeonia struggled against her restraints, the mushroom creatures—Gloamcaps—tying her up tightly, murmuring odd sounds as they worked.
“I’m not—!” A rope went around her mouth, gagging her.
“She’s tired and confused,” the tree explained to the others. “Restrain her for the Eldritch. She only needs to be wooed by the Eldritch.”
The Gloamcaps nodded, and Paeonia tried to beg them to stop as they slung her up. She struggled, and then the first Gloamcap sprouted spores that slid off the top of its head, sparkling in the slivers of the remaining sunlight. Several seconds later, her vision went hazy, spiraling to a dark blur.
She woke to a stirring, groaning as she pried her eyes open.
A shadow moved behind the tree line, its figure large, prowling slowly.
Rowan immediately came to her mind, and her heart raced.
Her eyes watered involuntarily, shaking as she pulled at the restraints, digging burns into her wrists.
She called out to him, to Rowan, but her words were muffled by the gag.
“Ro-anh!” She hiccupped. The figure turned toward her, noticing her. She called for him again.
He stepped through the trees into the open space, and her heart lurched. This was not Rowan… It was something out of her nightmares. The tiny Gloamcaps lingered behind the beast, filling in the darkness.
She choked on her spit, swinging her legs, trying to create distance between them.
And odd noise belted from it, hurting her ears.
She began to cry violently, her heart racing so loudly she couldn’t hear the footsteps as the creature slowly approached her, most of it draped in shadow.
But even so, she could tell this was the creature she encountered in Rowan’s garden: the Eldritch.
Antlers sprouted from its head, the moss slinking between them.
Its eyes were wide and harrowing, an eerie red haze fluttering from it as it moved.
A wolf’s cry echoed in the distance, and all the beings looked in the direction of the sound apart from the Eldritch.
“He’s coming,” something beside the Eldritch said ominously. “Coming to claim what was stolen.”
It moved close enough that Paeonia could begin to make its features out, all the little horrific details.
It stood oddly, its chest large and prominent, its head sharp and pointed like a stag.
She pulled at her restraints, wanting to shield her ears, remembering what Castor had said if she had heard it talk.
The Eldritch appeared to be skeletal. Remnants of skin clung to the off-white bones; its gruesome torso decayed with ancient moss growing on its shoulders.
Paeonia’s breathing quickened, and she threatened to pass out when she couldn’t get enough air past the gag.
Her heart lurched as it beat erratically.
More growling in the distance made her squirm in her restraints.
The Eldritch’s eyes shot to her, and she froze.
It outstretched a bony arm, its hand oddly human, caressing her cheek with a decayed finger.
She whimpered, then fell into darkness again.
When she woke the second time, she was alone in the clearing. Her feet still dangled a foot off the ground, her arms still tied. She blinked to steady her vision; she noticed a deep crimson shade lining the leaves that covered the forest’s floor.
She yelped in the back of her throat and thrashed her legs and arms.
A growl in the distance, the sun now set, made her squeak in distress. Tree branches snapped, and Paeonia shook her head rapidly, her eyes shut, her breathing uncontrollable.
Then she felt the creature stepping into her space, large paws gripping her, and she screamed into the gag, shaking and kicking—
“Paeonia!” the deep voice cursed at her. She finally opened her eyes, met with a ravenous beast. But a beast she knew, eyes she recognized of glowing silver.
Rowan had come for her.
She sighed in relief as he cut her down, catching her against his chest. She swung her arms around his neck, shaking and letting out dry tears. He didn’t move at first, but eventually his arms wrapped around her in return.
“I never thought I’d be happy to see you,” she sobbed. A wolf howled beyond the break of trees, and she stiffened.
Rowan made a sound of disapproval in his throat. “We have to get back,” he said quietly. She went to pull back, but Rowan clutched her closer. “Hold tight.”
He took off running, Paeonia tight in his grasp. She stared at Rowan’s chest, afraid of what she might see around her, but eventually she couldn’t help it; she peeked. Looking back at where she had been strung up. And as he ran with her, she saw the daunting sight all too clearly.
Gloamcaps, unmoving and bloody, strung up like hanging corpses, just as she was. She made a solemn sound and shut her eyes again, not opening them again until they cleared the woods.