Chapter 3 World of Men
"But how can we know their intentions? We've never seen or spoken with them" Lyriel pressed. "Perhaps there's still light there. Perhaps..."
The Queen rose from her throne, her eyes glowing in anger "Enough, Lyriel! Curiosity is the first crack in the heart. Your father once said those very words before he crossed the Veil and never returned. You will not speak of this matter again!"
The room fell silent, and Lyriel immediately regretted speaking to her mother about the one thing she hated most. She should have stayed quiet. It would have been far better than facing her mother’s anger and the inevitable series of lectures about why humans are evil.
That night, long after the palace had gone still and the moon hung low, Lyriel stood again on her balcony. The wind carried faint whispers from the forest beyond, a melody unlike any fae song. It was rough, imperfect, and yet… beautiful in its own way.
Miren fluttered beside her again, sleepy-eyed, "Princess, it's late. You'll catch the dew chills."
"Listen," Lyriel murmured. "Do you hear it?"
Miren tilted her head, "Just the wind."
"No," Lyriel said softly, "it's something else... Like a voice..."
"Voices from there are forbidden to answer," Miren said quickly, crossing her tiny arms. "You'll get both of us in trouble!"
Lyriel smiled faintly. "Then go back to bed, Miren. I'll just… watch the stars for a while."
When Miren left, the forest beyond the palace glowed faintly. She couldn't see the Veil, but she could feel it, as if it were calling to her.
"Father," she whispered, "if you could cross it, maybe I can too."
Every spring, the faeries celebrated the Festival of Blossoms, when the heart-trees awakened and the sky rained petals. But inside the palace chambers, Lyriel knew nothing of it. She lay sprawled across her bed, sleeping soundly… snoring, even, her blond hair tangled wildly around her face.
Miren stared at her in horror, a sudden anger brewing in her small chest. Around them, the palace faeries stood still, heads bowed slightly, waiting for her to rouse the sleeping princess. Every gentle attempt had failed. This called for something drastic.
Miren flew over to the bedside and tipped a small bowl of water straight onto Lyriel’s face. Lyriel jolted awake with a gasp
“Have you gone crazy!?”
Miren folded her arms, wings fluttering sharply. “Today is the Festival of Blossoms, and I have exactly one minute to get you ready—by the Queen’s command!”
Before Lyriel could protest, the faeries descended upon her. She was dragged from the bed, spun in a whirl of light and silk, and dressed in a blink. Her eyes rolled helplessly as they worked. Moments later, she was lifted into the air and carried from her balcony into a golden palanquin.
A roar of joy erupted as the crowd caught sight of her.
“Smile!!” Miren shrieked into her ear.
Lyriel forced her lips upward as the palanquin glided through the streets, her golden crown gleaming under the sunlight. Faeries danced ahead of it to the music being played, and the villagers threw flower petals into the air, jubilant at the sight of their princess.
Miren hovered near her shoulder, whispering, “Prince Charming Farren will faint out of sheer terror if you keep smiling like you’re being held hostage…”
Lyriel rolled her eyes, " Ahh...talk of the devil!"
Miren giggled as Farren appeared out of nowhere to help the princess down from the palanquin as it was lowered. He smiled at her, holding her hands to kiss them, but she snatched her hands away and walked over to where the queen sat.
She bowed to the queen, giving her the sweetest smile, and sat down next to her.
"You don't look like you're on good terms with Farren," the queen said, still smiling at the crowd.
"Yes... I mean no, I don’t know. I just don’t like him, and you know that," Lyriel whispered. The queen didn’t reply, as if she hadn’t heard her. Lyriel frowned.
Although it was the Festival of Blossoms, she had other thoughts in mind. It wasn’t her intention to be rebellious, especially on such a perfect day, but some things had to be done.
When the dancers twirled and the flutes rose to their brightest note, Lyriel slipped quietly away from her mother, who was fully immersed in the festival and the joy of her people. She moved swiftly toward the garden— the easiest path leading to the forest, but halted abruptly when she caught sight of Farren issuing orders to a guard. Her heart leapt. She turned at once and half-ran back toward the crowd. Luckily, Farren never noticed her.
She pushed past the crowd, making sure her face and wings were properly covered with a hooded cloak to avoid being seen. Everyone was too caught up in the celebration to notice her, and even Miren, the lousy and clingy pixie, was surprisingly nowhere in sight. As soon as she reached the gate of Eloria, she sprinted into a run, making sure to avoid the guards hovering in the sky and to leave no trace. Within moments, the forest swallowed her in the mist.
Flying would have been the easiest and fastest option, but that would have been a one-way ticket to getting caught. Now she had no choice but to run as fast as she could. She leapt over fallen trees and clusters of figs, her breath uneven, until she nearly ran into a deep, gaping hole. She luckily held herself back just in time. A small stone, loosened by her sudden stop, tumbled into the darkness, and it took its sweet time before landing at the bottom… such a mistake would have changed her status from rebellious to curiosity killed the cat!
Lyriel straightened and slowly scanned her surroundings. The forest loomed unnaturally still, its silence pressing against her skin. It gave her an eerie feeling. She had never ventured this far from home before. For the first time, doubt crept in—had she made a terrible mistake coming here alone, at this hour?
“Lyriel!” a voice whispered, and Lyriel turned immediately to see who it was… there was no one, just herself and the trees.
“I can smell your fear… Lyriel,” the voice came again, and Lyriel began to panic. She should have just stayed back at the palace, but it was already too late to give up on her quest.
“I know you’re here,” she yelled into the forest. “Whatever calls me, show yourself!”
A faint giggle fluttered from behind a vine and a tiny creature peeked out. A pixie with mismatched black wings and eyes like molten amber, utterly unlike Miren.
“You shouldn’t be here, Princess,” the pixie chimed. “Your mother’s guards will turn my wings inside out if they catch me helping you.”
“Why do you call me?”
“To show you the Veil,” the pixie tilted its head, laughing theatrically, then snapped its tiny fingers. Between two oaks appeared a wall of light, trembling like boiling water.
"It opens once every century, on a supernatural blood moon. If you step through now, it may not open again for a hundred years." The pixie whispered