Time was distorted by the darkness. He could have been walking for hours, minutes or seconds, it was impossible to tell. At what point he first saw the glow, he couldn't be sure. To begin with he moved towards it subconsciously, like a flower opening its petals towards sunlight. It wasn't until it became larger, brighter, that he really became aware of what he was doing. And it wasn't until he stepped into a clearing, illuminated once more by the dazzling starlight above and glowing with candlelight, that he came to an abrupt halt.
There was a house in the middle of the wood.
A house which Vincent's hunger ridden mind was deceiving him into imagining was made of breads, cakes and pastries. It looked like the sort of thing Earthroar would have put in his shop window, only much, much larger.
The roof tiles were individual iced cinnamon buns, glossy white icing glinting, each with a bright red cherry in the centre. The chimney was constructed from four golden batons, the smell of freshly baked bread drifting from the top. The walls below seemed to be made of layered bricks of cake. Vincent could see chocolate, vanilla, a pistachio green, and a rich red velvet. Caramel buttercream cemented them together and edged windows of spun sugar and a door made from a rectangular, chocolate filled pastry Vincent didn't recognise.
The only parts of the house that didn't look edible were the candles held in sconces on the walls around the house. But even they didn't look ordinary - they were the bright colours of birthday candles, as if the entire structure was a treat left out in celebration.
Vincent's hand brushed the wall before he even realised he'd moved towards the house. He was hallucinating. He had to be. His hunger had conjured food from thin air. He was probably touching a slimy wet stone, covered in moss and frog spit. But it felt like soft, airy vanilla sponge, and the brick next to it had the gooey goodness of chocolate fudge.
How far did the hallucination go? If he brought a few crumbs to his lips, would he taste chocolate and flour and eggs? Or would the illusion be ruined?
For a moment, Vincent stood with his hand against the wall staring at the cake. His stomach growled in frustration. Food - of the most glorious kind - was right there beneath his finger tips. So why wasn't he eating any?
Before he could stop himself, Vincent had grabbed a fistful of soft sponge and shovelled it into his mouth.
He groaned in delight. Wall moss or not, it certainly tasted like real cake. The best he'd ever tasted, even if it felt like a betrayal of Earthroar and Lucy to think it. The brick was sweet and light with an unexpected hint of lemon.
He took a handful of the chocolate brick beside, which was as rich and gooey as it looked. Beside that was a darker, sticky brick which tasted of ginger. If only Jorge was here too. This was heaven.
"Do you plan on eating my entire house, beautiful stranger? Because it's usually polite to ask a lady before tucking in," a sugary voice purred behind him. Vincent spun, his eyes wide, his jaw slack.
On the path leading to the house, he found a beautiful young woman with round hips and rosy cheeks in a flowing silver dress. She was smiling, but there was a glint in her honey brown eyes Vincent wasn't sure was friendly. She held a wicker basket filled with lavender and hellebore in the crook of her arm.
"I'm... I'm so sorry!" He looked at her in horror. "I was just so hungry. I didn't stop to think about whether it belonged to anyone!"
"Because cottages constructed from confectionary are found lying around all over the place where you come from?" She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and put a hand to her hip. Despite the flowing delicacy of her dress, Vincent got the impression she was wearing something more sculpted, perhaps even armoured, beneath it.
"No! I... I just..." Vincent wasn't sure what had come over him. Hunger, exhaustion, the impossibility of the task ahead - something had caused him to take leave of his senses. And now he'd been caught redhanded.
"You do realise you're still holding a handful of my house in your hand, don't you?" the woman added.
To his horror, Vincent realised she was right. A handful of chocolate chip sponge was squelched between his fingers. He felt his cheeks flush as he dropped the smushed crumbs to the ground.
"There. Now that you're no longer trying to consume my property, how about you come inside and I get you something to eat that isn't part of my masonry?"
Vincent looked at her in surprise. She was smiling from rosebud lips, her honey eyes still twinkling with an expression he couldn't place. She really was impossibly beautiful. Vincent felt a new creeping dread crawling along his spine as he considered her perfect appearance, concealed armour and miraculous house. Whoever she was, she wasn't human.
He backed away. "I really should be going. I'm very sorry about the house. I promise it won't happen again."
"Now, now, I'll have none of that. You can't go tasting a girl's walls and not stay for a cup of tea afterwards."
There was something about the steely certainty of her tone that made Vincent realise there would be no use in arguing. He'd been caught stealing from her redhanded. That would put him in a dangerous situation even if she was only human. And if she was something else - fae, a witch, an enchantress - well, angering her further definitely wouldn't help him on his journey.
His shoulders slumped in surrender. "Thank you, for your kind offer of hospitality. A rest wold be most welcome."
The air inside the house smelt of nutmeg and cinnamon and fresh apple pie. Despite his handfuls of brick, Vincent's stomach rumbled as he stepped over the threshold.
The door led straight through into a cosy room with two chairs arranged in front of a candy cane edged fireplace. Everything was warm, welcoming and constructed from sweet treats. Even the spiderwebs were spun sugar and Vincent watched in awe as a chocolate mouse poked its nose out of a hole to sniff at the new arrival.
The only feature that made him pause was the wall above the fireplace. On it was a row of gingerbread men, their icing faces contorted in various expressions of horror. Their bright candy eyes followed Vincent around the room and he couldn't shake the feeling that if their lips could move, they would be screaming at him to run away as fast as possible.
"Now, you take a seat there," the woman who probably wasn't human said, gesturing to a squishy brown chair that looked as though it might have been made of brownie.
A fire burnt in the grate, and Vincent turned towards its warmth. It had been weeks since there had been wood to burn in Whistledawn.
The woman put the basket of flower on top of a cabinet then reached inside to pull out a bottle of lilac liquid and two glasses, which she placed on a shortbread table beside the second chair, but didn't pour.
"Proper introductions are in order, I believe," she said as she took her seat. "My name is Marsella. What should I call you?"
"Vincent."
"And what brings you into the woods of Gluce in the middle of the night, Vincent?"
Was it the middle of the night? Darkness had been setting in when he first entered the forest, but it came sooner every day as the dead season drew closer. And if it was as late as Marsella suggested, why had she been out picking flowers?
"I'm just passing through," he replied. "I got lost in the darkness and your candles led me to your house. I really am sorry for intruding. And eating it."
She waved away his apology. "Passing through on your way to where?"
"To the capital."
"And why would a hungry young man such as yourself be heading towards the capital under the cover of nightfall?"
Vincent could feel his cheeks flushing. This was hopeless. If he couldn't even convincingly lie to a stranger in a cottage, how was he going to infiltrate the palace and get close enough to the queen to kill her?
He needed to be calm. Confident. Like someone who had nothing to hide. "Your making me sound like a criminal." He forced himself to grin.
"Well, you were stealing my wall when I found you."
Good point. Perhaps confident was the wrong way to go. And he definitely needed to remember not to be caught stealing palace property on his arrival in the capital.
"There was nowhere in the last village with beds available. I thought the woods might offer some shelter, but once I was inside them it seemed prudent to keep moving."
"You were right to do so - the woods of Gluce are dangerous enough by day, but young men like yourself have been known to vanish without a trace after nightfall." Her wolfish grin gave Vincent the horrible impression he was being sized up for dinner.
He squirmed in his seat. He wasn't sure of her words were a warning or a threat, but it was definitely time to leave.
"Thank you for inviting me in to rest, but I really should continue on my way."
"Nonsense. I have taken a liking to you, Vincent. Stay here, with me. I have plenty of food, as you've already sampled. There's enough space here for two. It gets lonely in these woods. I'd appreciate the company. Think about it. No hunger. No work. No impossible quest that's likely to either get you killed or turn you into a monster?"
She laughed at the expression on his face.
"Oh, I know why you're really here. Defeat the queen. Save the kingdom. Go home and live happily ever after with the baker's daughter." She laughed again. "But really, what could she offer you that I couldn't? I live in a house of baked goods!"
Vincent bit the inside of his cheek. How did she know? And, more importantly, what was he going to do about it? Marsella was more powerful - and therefore more dangerous - than she was letting on. To outright refuse her could bring his quest to an end before it had really begun. It was one thing to die at the queen's feet, sword in hand, as his brother predicted. To meet his end in a house made of cake, still over a day's journey from the capital would be pathetic.
He glanced again at the gingerbread men on the mantlepiece. Was the one on the far left shaking its head? Vincent blinked. No. It was static. Just an ordinary biscuit. This cottage was messing with his sanity. He needed to get out.
"Thank you for your kind offer," he began, trying not to let his voice shake. Marsella smiled. "Truly, if it was only myself I had to think of, I would accept. But staying with you would mean leaving my brother and townspeople to starve. I really must leave."
Marsella's smile dropped at the corners, but her eyes twinkled. Why did they always seem to display a different emotion to her lips?
"Why think of others, when I have everything you need right here?" She gestured to the house on either side of her. The food. The comfort. The merry fire dancing in the grate. It was heaven, but it wasn't Vincent's safe haven.
He got to his feet. "I'm sorry. Really I am. But I can't."
"Come now," Marsella's smile was back, warmer this time. Enticing. She brushed the fabric of her dress, smoothing it, but also drawing attention to her soft curves. "You know as well as I do, that if you step back through my front door you'll be dead before the lunar cycle is through. Stay with me instead. Live. Here, we'll even toast to new beginnings."
She pulled the stopper from the glass bottle and a sweet, cloying scent filled the air. It reminded Vincent of the bakery, of watching Lucy decorate delicate cookies with sugar flowers, a smudge of unseen icing sugar on her cheek. The image was quickly replaced with another - Lucy and Jorge slowly starving to death, being pulled into the village centre by the queen's men.
"No," the word was an anguished cry. He couldn't abandon the people he loved. He couldn't let the queen win.
His mouth widened in horror at his blunt refusal, but to his surprise, Marsella smiled. This time, her eyes matched her expression. "You see, boys?" Vincent whirled to see who she was speaking to. Marsella had tipped a glass of purple liquid in the direction of the gingerbread men above the fire. "Did that really look so hard? All you had to do was say no."
What in the stars was going on?
Marsella was even more dangerous than he'd expected. Scheming he had been prepared for, talking to gingerbread, he had not. He really shouldn't have eaten that cake.
"As I said, thank you for your hospitality but I really do need to get going." He stood up and tried to edge towards the baton framed door.
"No, no," Marsella said, pouring the lilac liquid back into its bottle and putting the stopper back on.
"You'll stay until dawn. These woods aren't safe while the stars are out. You are lucky it was my cottage you stumbled across." Her tone had transformed, businesslike instead of charming. Before she had been asking him to stay, now the choice no longer appeared to be his.
Vincent had no idea if she was trying to keep him safe from the dangers beyond the clearing, or keep him in her cottage against his will. He couldn't rule out trying to turn him into a sugar coated biscuit either.
"You my dear boy, are the lucky recipient of aid from the great Starchantress Marsella Lovelace. Unlike your unlucky forebears." She gave another gesture to the gingerbread brigade over the fire. "You have shown yourself to be noble, true of heart and committed to your cause."
"And if I hadn't been those things?" Understanding and dread were beginning to trickle through Vincent's insides, like ice swallowed on a cold day. His stomach churned and he had a horrible suspicion Marsella's wall was about to make a reappearance.
"If you had failed my test and agreed to stay, you would now be living on my mantlepiece courtesy of my sugared elixir."
Vincent was definitely going to be sick. The gingerbread men were real people and he had nearly been one.
Did that mean - He felt the blood drain from his cheeks. He suddenly felt cold and shaky.
"No, no, nothing you have eaten was once human, or alive in any form. The cake I use to make my walls is enchanted to last, but it's still made with regular ingredients. Vegan, of course, chickens and cows do not mix well with edible dwellings... But I digress. If you are going to overthrow the tyrant queen, you will need my help."
"I thought you said I'd die if I left your house?" Vincent's head was spinning.
"That was when I was testing you. Do keep up! Now, the Astra Terra is a formidable enemy, but not unbeatable. I will need time to prepare though and you need to rest."
Vincent shook his head. This entire encounter had been both confusing and terrifying and he didn't want to stay in the strange cottage for a moment longer. "I need to get going. I don't have time for this."
Marsella looked at him, the expression in her eyes close to pity. "Oh sweetie, it wasn't a suggestion."
The world turned black before Vincent had could even get out of the chair.