The Faeries' Harp

15: Start Anew

“We don’t know how this happened, is the short answer,” Kyrie tells Saoirse, “but this is your true self. The spell leaves no other options, and no true human could have played that harp.”

“Where is Rhys? And Bergljot? Are they all right?”

“A couple of our comrades-at-arms were checking on the boy and the horse on the riverbank. Are they who you’re referring to?”

Saoirse nods.

“We can go join them, if you’re feeling well enough to fly,” Kyrie continues.

“Fly?” Saoirse repeats weakly.

Aeowyn snorts in contempt. “If flight you fear, you are no fae, regardless what your looks may say.”

“Aeowyn. Stop it. I know you’re suspicious, but she’s no human,” Kyrie chides.

“I’ve lived my whole life as a human. I don’t know how to be anything else,” Saoirse says despairingly.

“Well, you’ll just have to learn, then. And we’ll be teaching you, I suppose, since no one else is available. Can you move your wings?”

Saoirse focuses on her new appendages, willing them to move. To her surprise, it happens fairly easily, feeling almost effortless. Flapping them causes her to lift off the ground.

“Perfect! You’re a natural,” Kyrie gushes. “Just follow us, then. We’ll take it slow.”

Kyrie, true to her word, takes it slow and helps Saoirse master the finer points of steering herself through the air. Aeowyn, in contrast, zooms ahead, more than a little jealous of all the attention Kyrie is giving Saoirse. She finds Alastair and Seamus with the boy and the unicorn on the riverbank.

“Are Elowen and Myghal back yet?” she asks them.

“No, but they should be here soon. Fastest flyers in the realm,” Alastair answers. He looks as nonplussed as she is about the situation in which they find themselves.

“Elowen? Myghal?” the boy inquires, clearly confused. What did the wench call him? Rhys? Aeowyn tries to remember.

“Our comrades. Pixies,” Seamus explains.

“Why does he need to know that?” Alastair demands.

“He’s fae. He has to learn about our world sometime.”

“He doesn’t need to know about us, though,” Aeowyn argues. She and Alastair think much alike on many things.

“Are Kyrie and the girl coming?”

“Yes. Saoirse, she’s called, hasn’t mastered flying yet.”

“’Twould be strange if she had, given she’s just found her wings.”

“There you go. Almost there,” Kyrie coaches Saoirse behind Aeowyn. Seamus flies to meet them, beaming, and he and Kyrie share a quick but passionate embrace. Saoirse is too busy figuring out how to land to pay them any mind, and as soon as she does, she’s completely stunned by the sight of Rhys and Bergljot. The unicorn trots over to Saoirse immediately, nickering and nuzzling her hand.

“It happened to you, too,” Saoirse breathes, distractedly petting Bergljot’s muzzle while glancing rapidly between her and Rhys.

“Saoirse, what are we going to do?” Rhys demands. “We can’t go back like this. We have to change back, somehow.”

“There is no changing back,” Kyrie informs them apologetically as she and Seamus alight on the ground nearby. “If you’ve lived your whole lives up to now as humans, then the charms placed on you are the sort used on infants, when we switch a human baby and a fae baby shortly after birth. It’s honestly a miracle the charms lasted this long, and that you went so long undiscovered in the mortal realm.”

“But I have to go back. My mother is unwell. She can’t survive without me. We were barely making ends meet as things were. Without my income….” Rhys’s voice trails off. Saoirse lays a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer comfort, but guilt is practically crushing her. This is all my fault. Why did I ever invite him to come on an adventure with me?

“Return if you dare, but your time will be brief. Fae cannot breathe what the mortals breathe,” Alastair warns.

“Not entirely true,” Seamus amends, “but Alastair has a point. We can go into the mortal realm briefly, to cause mischief, armed with the appropriate charms.”

“Why cause mischief? Why leave so lovely a world?” Saoirse inquires.

“A human’s distress brings us much glee. For this on occasion your old home we see,” Aeowyn responds.

“Will the two of you cut it out? They’re not human. There’s no need for riddles and rhymes and cryptic nonsense,” Kyrie snaps impatiently.

“How can you be so sure?” Alastair argues.

“The harp spell. It’s an ancient and powerful magic, cast through an ancient and powerful focus. There’s no charms that could withstand that, at least, not to my knowledge, and I’ve been studying our spells and history for a few centuries.”

“If we cannot return to the mortal realm, can I bring my mother here?” Rhys interrupts.

Alastair and Aeowyn laugh cruelly. “A human, stay in the fae realm?” Alastair questions condescendingly.

“You must be joking,” Aeowyn adds dismissively.

“We came in, when you thought we were human,” Rhys points out irritably. “You didn’t do anything to stop that.”

“We were actively surveilling you, though. We hoped maybe the river would end you so we didn’t have to.”

“Killing is such unpleasant business,” Kyrie remarks apologetically.

“We had no intention of letting you stay here, though,” Alastair declares.

“But you seemed intent on returning to your own world. We thought it would be fun to see if you could figure it out,” Seamus explains. “We never dreamed anything like this could happen.”

“Nor did we,” Saoirse points out. “We didn’t ask for this. None of this was intentional. There has to be a way to get Rhys back to his life. I will pay whatever price, accept whatever penalty. I was the one who wanted an adventure. I chased the blue light that led us here. All of this is my fault, and he should not be punished for it.”

“This isn’t personal,” Kyrie replies. “It’s just the way things are now. You are faeries, not mortals. You can’t go back.”

“But there has to be something I can do,” Rhys protests. “If I can just visit one more time, to bring her money or a cure for her illness…anything. I can’t just leave her behind, like I was never there. She raised me. She sacrificed so much for me. This is no way to repay such kindness.”

“If this is your true form, she is not your mother, and she has been doing all these things for you because she was deceived,” Alastair replies coldly. “It would be best to just forget her.”

Rhys clenches his fists. For a moment, all he sees is red.

“Forget you,” he snaps, and starts running as fast as his legs will carry him down the trail Bergljot made through the forest when they were on the run while searching for a way to get back home. Maybe the harp song did something about that wall of vines. Maybe I can see her one last time.

“Now you’ve done it,” Saoirse mutters irritably. “Bergljot.”

The unicorn comes to Saoirse’s side and Saoirse swings expertly onto her back, and then Bergljot charges into the forest after Rhys.

The four remaining faeries stare at each other in stunned silence.

“That didn’t go according to plan,” Seamus remarks.