Midnight End

8

“The water is the one place where she almost resembles the woman she once was,” commented Merlin absently. “Can you tell me about her—about what happened?” I asked hesitantly. She was such a large part of his life, I wanted to understand that side of him. So many times in the past, I wished I could ask questions. Now that I had the ability, I wasn’t missing an opportunity.

“To a good extent, Morgan is correct—Viviene’s condition was my fault.” His lips thinned. “I had sensed my sister, Mab, was upset about my relationship with Viviene. While I have a Seer ability and get glimpses of future events, my emotions cloud my sight where my life is concerned. My own future, and those of the people I am closest to, lie just outside my range of visibility. Perhaps I should have seen the true extent of Mab’s hatred, but I didn’t—not until it was too late. I never suspected my own sister would act in such a way that would hurt me so profoundly.” “How did you discover she was behind Viviene’s disappearance?” “I went for a visit one day, and young Morgan told me about the incident when I arrived. She said Viviene had been out gardening when she was attacked by a Grindylow and stolen off into the Wilds. Right away, I was struck with how odd it was for a Grindylow to harm a Water Nymph. While Grindylows can be nasty creatures, they are also relatively intelligent. The race is reliant on water as their home, and it’s the Water Nymphs’ magic that helps to maintain bodies of water in Faery. The Grindylow would only be harming himself if he had killed a Water Nymph. The niggling sense of doubt led me to examine the area. Inside the cottage, I found a single drop of blood by one wall. If the Grindylow had attacked Viviene in her garden, why had there been blood inside? It could have been unrelated, but my instincts told me to investigate further. However, I found little else to direct me. I hunted down all manner of water Fae and questioned Morgan innumerable times. No one had heard of a Water Nymph being taken, and Morgan described the scene in an eerily similar fashion every time she told the story. One day, many months later, I happened to notice Morgan flinch away from my sister. The motion had been a subconscious response, and I found it odd as Mab had never given Morgan reason to fear her. Instead of asking questions, I started to pay attention to what went unsaid. It didn’t take long for me to realize there was something unnatural that passed between Mab and Morgan every time they were together. “Confronting Mab was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I never had any intention of killing her, but it quickly became clear her death was unavoidable. Her mind had become so warped, I hardly recognized her. Once she was gone, and I was able to get to Viviene, my heart broke yet again. The truth can be a seductive mistress, but she is not always faithful. I was desperate to find Viviene, but learning the truth about her disappearance was shattering. Not only did I lose my lover, I lost a sister as well.” His sorrowful eyes bore into mine as he continued. “Have an open mind when you seek the truth. There is no going back once you have found it.” I nodded in understanding. “Seeking answers is always a gamble—one we hope will pay off in the long run. But you needn’t worry. It sounds like my quest has ended before it ever began.” “I have found over the years, the things which are meant to be find a way of coming to pass. If you are meant to know your history, an opportunity to do so will present itself. Perhaps you will be recognized by an old acquaintance, or some obscure reference will jog your memories. If it is your wish to know, I truly hope you will find the answers you seek.” Merlin spoke from the heart, not one to mince words. I gave him a heartfelt hug goodbye and traced back to the wooded estate where Morgan was being kept. I had enjoyed my first official conversation with Merlin but was remorse to return without any answers. Not only had he dashed my hopes of a magical memory cure, but he had put doubt in my mind about whether I even wanted to know my past. I had lived centuries since my imprisonment by the Red Caps. I knew the man I had become—did it matter who I had been before? On the other hand, if there was a chance to discover my past, was I not willing to take that risk? My logic circled itself round and round as I walked back to the house. The only thing that was certain was there was no rush to make a decision. I had lived without the knowledge of my past for centuries and managed to survive admirably. What was one more day or week in the life of an immortal? As the Faery suns started to descend, I walked through the deepest parts of the forest. The foliage had thickened so noticeably that it was difficult to proceed, but I continued to push past the sharp leaves of holiander plants and sticky outcroppings of surry saplings. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t turn around. A part of me knew I should, but my burning desire to see what was on the other side of the dense forest overruled my caution. When I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, I noticed an intricate red flower I had never seen before. Half a dozen crimson petals arched out from the center, each curling at the tip. A cluster of tiny stamens sprouted from the middle with bundles of golden pollen on each end. The flower and several others like it grew from a vining plant that had wrapped itself around most of the trees and plants in sight. I pushed my way toward one of the blossoms, kicking at something that had snagged my pantleg. As soon as I freed myself, I made to step forward and found my other ankle anchored in place as if it had grown roots of its own. When I glanced down to see what gripped my foot so securely, a tendril of unease stirred across my skin. The vining plant had wrapped itself around my ankle. I stomped at the vine, attempting to break off the offending portion of the plant, but the vine was impervious. Resorting to the use of magic, I attempted to send a blast of energy toward the vine, but nothing happened. I summoned my powers, only to come up empty—no telltale tingling in my palms or buzzing in my veins. I had no magic. While my attention was distracted by my loss of power, a set of vines whipped out and seized each of my wrists faster than any normal plant should move even in Faery. I yanked viciously as I cursed, but instead of the vine shredding to pieces, it snaked itself further up my arms and legs. Once it secured its grip, it began to pull me in all four directions with astounding force. I screamed out in blinding pain. With all my leverage removed, there was nothing I could do to counter the vine’s attack. .