Chapter 23 Tegwyn
Tegwyn
The beast spread its fingers far and wide, threatening to plunge the world into total darkness, but despite how terrified he was, Tegwyn closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
It’s just a tree. It’s just a tree…
When he opened his eyes again, it wasn’t a beast he found himself gazing at, but a tangle of twisted branches that stretched towards the sky, hiding its perfect blue from sight. The tree stood along the edge of his grandpa’s farm, and today would be the day he finally climbed it.
After all, he was six years old now, one of the big kids, and big kids don’t get scared.
So, he lifted his hands, digging his claws into the first branch. When the beast showed no sign of protest, he grabbed the next branch and then the next until he reached the top.
The sight took his breath away immediately. A gilded sea of barley swept towards the horizon, and as he breathed in through his nose, savouring the warm smells of bread and distant may blossom, he smiled.
Grandpa’s barley field was loved by all in town; Tegwyn had spent many summers running barefoot through its long, yellow stalks, but now it looked even better from above.
He closed his eyes, enjoying a sweet, gentle breeze that rippled across the land, making the barley undulate like a wave of pure gold.
Summer was by far his most favourite season. He loved everything about it, from the lush green grass to the sizzling heat.
Through a blurry haze on the horizon, he spied the farmhouse—the only home he’d ever known. There, he helped his grandpa out on the farm, and right now, he was learning how to milk the cows.
Tegwyn had always had a way with animals. It was as if they trusted him on some intrinsic level, knowing he meant no harm, despite his alarming appearance.
One day, he would get to assist his grandpa with the shearing of the lambs. The only thing he was dreading was the dehorning process.
Every time the farmhands pinned down a ram to burn off its horns, a sharp pain burned through Tegwyn’s skull. The process looked extremely uncomfortable. As if they were stripping the young ram of his identity somehow. How could the ram hope to defend himself without his horns?
Instinctively, he reached his hand up, rubbing at a pair of fledgling nubs above his hairline.
He wasn’t sure what they were or where they’d come from. Perhaps he had bumped his head too hard.
Tegwyn did receive enough beatings from the local boys in town, after all.
His eyes landed on a distant cluster of chimneys, and he gritted his teeth, wishing he could set them ablaze with his glare.
The quaint little town of Tillyfold…
How they always stared and pointed whenever Tegwyn so much as graced its muddy lanes with his presence. Mothers shielded their babes from him whenever he passed by, and old ladies spat at his boots whenever he offered to carry their bags.
The only reason why they tolerated him was because of his grandfather.
His grandpa’s farm was the staple of the town, and many of the townsfolk worked on his sprawling fields.
But Tegwyn wished that they could just be a little nicer to him.
Mother always told him to never stoop to their level and to prove them wrong.
He was not a monster, but a boy with a big heart.
Still, he could happily stay up in the tree forever if it meant that he never had to see a single person in that town again. They only picked on him because he was different. Tegwyn was Fae after all, with skin of bright green gold.
Shouts echoed below the tree, and his heart beat faster when he recognised the voices.
It was the butcher’s three sons—Duke, Earl, and Marque.
The Pigsworths were always giving him a hard time. Their father’s abattoir was right next to the farm, so they passed by often.
Duke, the eldest, was eight years old and nearly twice the size of Tegwyn. He liked to throw stones at him whenever he saw him in town, yet the boy received no punishment from his mother.
In Rosemary Pigsworth’s eyes, Duke was the perfect prince. All three of her boys were royalty where she was concerned. Which was why she bestowed them with such grand names.
Duke was jealous of Tegwyn because he could read and write much better than he could. As a matter of fact, Tegwyn was the best in his class at the local schoolhouse, and as a result, he had no friends.
As cumbersome as Duke was, though, he still had a girlfriend—seven-year-old Milly Shoehorn, the cobbler’s daughter. She was the most beautiful girl Tegwyn had ever seen. With soft golden hair, bright sapphire eyes, and cheeks as pink and round as apples…
His insides squirmed whenever he glanced her way, and he could never quite understand the hot feeling he got under his skin whenever she walked by, smelling of nothing but sweet lilac.
Tegwyn had often seen it described as love in some of the books he read, but how could that be possible? He thought only grown-ups fell in love.
He would never get a girl like Milly, even if he lived to be five hundred. Only the Dukes of this world got girls like Milly…
All three boys walked beneath the tree, and he held his breath. Hopefully, they would just leave and go on their way.
Tegwyn didn’t want any trouble today.
“What the hell is that?” Duke exclaimed in disgust.
“Ergh, it’s a worm!”
That was Marque. The middle child.
It took Tegwyn a moment to realise what they were talking about, and when it finally dawned on him, his insides turned cold.
They had found Henry… His pet caterpillar.
Henry was the larva of an Elephant Hawk moth, and Tegwyn supposed that he saw a kindred spirit in the ugly green caterpillar, hence why he saved it from a carrion crow the other day.
“Kill it! Kill it!” the boys started to chant, and Tegwyn had no choice but to be brave. He would fight, for Henry’s honour.
Sliding down the tree with his claws, he landed like a cat before all three boys, and the look of pure shock on their faces almost made him caw with laughter.
No one else in town could move quite like Tegwyn, and to think he was still a kid.
How would they look at him when he was fully grown and could utilise his magic to its fullest potential?
That was the real reason why they were afraid of him. The Fae could glamour and trick humans, and many had succumbed to their twisted ways.
Yet Tegwyn wasn’t like those faeries. He had never even made a bargain before…
But now, he may have to bargain for Henry’s life.
Duke, with his round, scabby face, sneered when he looked at Tegwyn.
Tegwyn puffed out his chest, repeating the mantra in his head—no teeth, no claws. He didn’t want to hurt anyone.
“Give him back, Duke,” he said, looking the boy straight in his beady eyes.
Yet the boy merely smirked, holding up the jar that housed Henry. “This worm yours, lizard boy?”
Earl and Marque started doing poor impressions of lizards, sticking out their tongues, but Tegwyn ignored them, keeping his gaze on Duke. “Yes. Hand him over.”
Duke sniggered, tipping the jar upside down, and now the caterpillar squirmed on the grass.
Tegwyn’s heart thumped hard, yet no matter what, he would not hurt Duke or his brothers.
He would not let them incite him. It’s what they wanted. To bring out the monster in him…
Marque and Earl seized him by the arms, making him watch, helplessly, as their elder brother crushed Henry beneath his boot.
When they finally let him go, Tegwyn dropped to the ground by the caterpillar’s remains, and they circled around him, calling him cruel names.
That was the exact moment he felt it. The darkness creeping deep beneath his skin, spreading its poison far and wide.
Tegwyn narrowed his eyes, glaring up at Duke, and were those shadows slithering out from the trees like snakes?
Not possible…
Shadows don’t move.
Nor were they sentient.
But Tegwyn could have sworn they emerged when he got mad just now.
“You bastard,” he growled, only having eyes for the bully who insisted on making his life utterly miserable. “He was my friend!”
Like a hot bolt of lightning, he knocked Duke off his feet, pinning him to the ground, and the boy’s screams rent the air.
The sound filled Tegwyn’s heart with pure, wicked joy, yet he still never used his claws. Instead, he punched Duke in the face, breaking his nose until his vision splattered red.
Before he could do any real damage, Margue and Earl dragged him away, and now all three boys kicked him to the dirt. When Duke swung his fist towards Tegwyn’s face, stars sprinkled in the corners of his eyes, and something warm trickled from his nose.
Blood.
Then, when the boy pressed his knees down hard on Tegwyn’s arms, prying his mouth wide open, he made him eat the last of Henry.
It just wasn’t fair. Tegwyn never asked to be this way, yet they still bullied him endlessly.
One day, he would get them back.
One day…
Once they were finished with him, they left him shaking on the ground, and he curled up into a ball, wishing to die.
He deserved to be eaten by the carrion crows for failing to save Henry. The poor caterpillar had never even got to be a moth.
He would have made a beautiful moth…
“Tegwyn?”
His sensitive Fae ears picked up on the sound of a woman’s voice. It was his mother calling his name. Yet he couldn’t go to her. Why did she even love him? He was a monster…
Tegwyn’s mother was human, like Duke and his brothers. Yet unlike the rest of the townsfolk, she loved him dearly, as well as his grandpa. But Tegwyn didn’t deserve either of their love.
His mother still missed her human son. She never talked about him, but Tegwyn saw it in her eyes.
Six years ago, she’d sold her son to a travelling Fae merchant in exchange for his health.
Her son had been terribly ill, and it was said that only the magic of the faerielands could heal his ailments. The only price she had to pay was to never see or hear from her son ever again and to raise another in his stead.
Tegwyn had been that other…