It felt like it took a whole day's walk to Morgan's domain with Lucca by his side.
He wasn't as mentally draining as Eloise was, but Frei found it tiresome keeping track of Lucca's random topics. The child spoke of many things: of embarassing secrets Puck hid in his drawer, of silly costumes the gentry of the Seelie often wore, of Oberon's funny butterfly wings and his ugly garden roses, and so on and so on...
"But then Aru keeps telling me about this girl named Leah, and then other times he calls her Mia, and then another time he said her name was Aya..." Lucca prattled on, "and I am quite sure, the girl is already annoyed of him forgetting and all that."
Frei took note though of how often he spoke of this 'Aru'. Though the name and its owner were strangers to him, he could not help but feel a slither of dread each time Lucca made mention of it. Frei suspected that he might have learned the name before, possibly from a certain red-furred wolf.
His fist clenched at the thought of Lotus.
"Who is this 'Aru' anyway?" Frei asked, finally breaking his silence. He didn't want to think of Lotus. Not then when his trust in him was slowly fading.
"Aru is my friend," Lucca replied cheerfully. "He's kind of like you, forgetful and all. But he's a lot cooler."
Frei rolled his eyes at that, shaking his head.
"An annoying thing about Aru though," Lucca said, tone almost like a whine, "is that he's always Erin this, Erin that! Erin! Erin! Erin! He even calls me Erin! It's the only thing he remembers!" He turned to Frei with a pout. "I keep telling him my name but he doesn't listen! Who the heck is Erin anyway?!"
Frei threw him a teasing grin. "Probably better company than you."
Lucca answered with an annoyed huff.
By that time they had reached a shadowed pass between two, high and jagged cliffs. The rock formations, if given a closer look, appeared like gigantic wraiths writhing in pain. The cracks and hulls on its stone body seemed to represent its faces and limbs, the hollowed areas housing ominous red, blue, orange and green lights. When the cool breeze caressed the stone, spirals of murky green and purple light swirled across its surface.
Frei's brows scrunched with worry, finding it strange that his magia could not expand through the pass. Where everything behind them was bright with Frei's morning glow, the pass remained shadowed in perpetual evening.
He bent down, picking up a dried, crooked twig. The shrubbery and foilage below looked unfamiliar. Odd, since Frei prided his knowledge of countless fauna. There were jagged vines that seemed to curl into a high arc, serving as a gate through the path before them. Dead leaves and ashen roots covered the ground like a misshapen ink blanket. When Frei stood back up and set foot upon it, it produced a terrible crushing sound that made his ears and teeth hurt. It sounded like shattering glass, except it was sharper and higher in octave.
Frei gulped, cold sweat trailing down his skin. Everything about the structure screamed ill news, but at the same time, his curiosity made him drawn to it. He focused on his magia again, trying to penetrate through whatever veil was keeping his light from piercing through. It felt like stretching a limb, or pinching his skin but with greater strain.
He began channeling his energy through the vines beneath his feet, but when he did, he felt some kind of resistance, like he was prodding on a thin sheet of skin or membrane. He pushed again, and the resistance became like a stone wall, far from unyielding. Frei gave up, reeling his magia back in, surprised that he felt more exhausted than he would have liked.
"That's weird," Lucca murmured, cupping his chin with thumb and finger. "I'm sure this isn't the way to Morgan's."
Frei clasped the pendant on his neck, observing the light pulsing at its center. "Well, the jewel's glowing brighter than ever. It means there's another key close by."
"We can't go there!" Lucca exclaimed, his violet eyes wide and fearful. "Mother said it is a witch's burial site!"
Frei raised a brow. "Are you afraid?"
"No!" Lucca replied, sounding indignant as he placed his hands on his hips. "But you should be! Witches' graves are cursed, and you'll most likely end up dead before you can get out."
Frei pursed his lips in amusement.
"What's with that look?" Lucca challenged.
"You are afraid," the prince said cheekily.
"Are not!"
"Are to."
"Are not!"
"Are to-"
The sound of a thousand chirping birds interrupted their squabble as flocks of different winged creatures flew out of the shadows before them. Most looked like harpies: creatures that bore a beautiful woman's likeness save the talons on her hands and feet and the wings on her back. A considerable number appeared more horrifying, as their limbs stretched out like misshapen tentacles and their chests were cut open to display green, gooey organs that resembled beating human hearts. The rest were like a cross between bats and cats, flying in a synchronized vortex of smoke and shadow. Despite their physical differences, they all shared two things: flight and fright, a combination that could scare a grown man out of his wits.
Lucca and Frei exchanged a brief glance and mouthed the word, "Run."
But before they could flee, a tall, cloaked presence blocked their path. It was a man, with skin as dark as the evening sky, and eyes that sparkled so bright they shone like stars. A crown of silver twigs and leaves rested upon his head, blending its colors with the hair that billowed through the winds beneath it. He was dressed in robes embellished with onyx and sapphire stones, his cloaks cascading to the ground like dark waterfalls. His wings resembled that of a dragon's: bat-like and fanged, stretching towards the sky like the devil's hands.
His long arms stretched sideways, fingers spread, then he brought his arms together and produced a loud and thunderous clap!
An invisible wave of magia swept past Frei and Lucca, casting away the night creatures about to pursue them. The monsters retreated back to the shadows in a chorus of shrieks and cackles. The wave left behind a forest-like scent, a cross between rain and earth that made Frei feel lethargic.
Frei marveled at what he saw. The effect was just as sudden as the man's fortunate appearance. He was about to express grattitude when the man's sour expression halted him in his tracks.
"Maribagoth," the man spoke, "what are you doing here?"
As Frei took a closer look at his snow-like hair and star-like eyes, and the frown that looked both youthful and ancient, he knew he was staring at Morgan the Arcane, the oldest Fey known to man, and the King of Unseelie.
And the world was suddenly black.
... ... ...
"Wake up..."
Frei stirred, feeling a pair of small, firm hands shaking him by the shoulders. He could hear Lucca's voice, desperately trying to wake him up.
"Wake up."
And then he heard another voice. Deeper, older, and unfamiliar.
"Is he dead? Mother is going to kill me if he's dead!" Lucca panicked.
"He's not," the voice reassured, chuckling. The voice became hushed, holding back laughter. "Try coating your finger with spit, and then put it inside his ear."
"Oooh! I like that idea!"
Frei jolted up, eyes wide with wakefulness.
"Woah! We nearly bumped heads!" Lucca complained.
Instead of responding to the child, Frei stared at the man sitting across him. The stranger was lean, dressed in ink-brown rags that oddly reminded Frei of something he wore before. His skin was scarred and slightly tanned as if they'd known labor beneath the sun for many years, yet retained a fairness to it common to people that hailed from western nobility. There were red marks on the man's wrists, like they had been bound before, and the slightly bulged knuckles and joints along his hands and fingers proved that they knew combat. He had thin lips, an angular jaw, light stubble across his chin and a sculpted nose. He had the kind of face that brought damsels to their knees, framed by straight yet slightly messy black hair that had a copper red tint whenever it caught light. The man was... beautiful, in a rustic sort of way.
But what really caught Frei's attention was his eyes.
"Hey!" Lucca waved a hand before his face. "Earth to Frei!"
The man had scarred, green eyes.
"Was there something on my face?" the man chuckled, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.
"You have green eyes." Frei said, eyes still on the stranger.
"Ah," the man grinned, "You're not the first to point that out, my friend. Green eyes are not common in the east."
"You're Arcadian!" Frei gasped, eyes sparkling with awe. His skin glittered in response, mirroring his enthusiasm.
The man grinned, extending a hand towards Frei. "Rhaiocaurd Von Helsingr. But you can refer to me as Rhaio."
Frei shook his hand, giddy with excitement. "Frei La Eifhendorr. Just Frei will do."
Rhaio's smile was quickly replaced by a frown. "Do you remember how you got here?"
Frei grimaced. He put a hand to his forehead as realization sunk in. He surveyed the area and found that they were inside a dim, prison cell. The walls were curved, and the ceilings were spiked. To his left were bars of burning purple iron, dividing them from an open space covered in shadows.
"I don't think I do," Frei admitted, frustration in his tone. "Lucca?"
The child shook his head, "Morgan must have cleared our memory. He doesn't like people knowing the paths inside his Moor."
Frei turned to Rhaio who shook his head.
"I mean besides being trapped here," Rhaio explained, "do you remember who you were, where you were from? Are you aware that we're inside a mirror world?"
"Yes, I am a son of Elfeinne, and I know we're in a mirror world," Frei paused, "wait-you're also banished to this world?"
Rhaio nodded, then shook his head. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I remember who I am, where I come from, everything else except for how I got here and why."
"Do you know how long you've been trapped here?" Frei asked
Rhaio sighed. "I was hoping you could tell me. It just feels like I sort of..." he cupped his chin in thought, trying to find the words.
"Like you've woken up from a dream." Frei said, understanding in his eyes.
"Yes," Rhaio affirmed. "It's exactly like that."
Frei marveled, uncertain whether he should feel relief or dread. He had always thought that it was just him and Lotus and Eloise trapped in this world, but there was another. And an Arcadian at that; a man from a place his people considered myth.
"I wish I knew," Frei said apologetically. Then he remembered Lotus. "But I think I know someone who might."
"Will you take me to him?" Rhaio asked, hope in his eyes. "I need to know. And I need to find someone too. Do you think perhaps that person can provide that kind of assistance?"
"I don't know," Frei admitted. "But I've come so far because of him. Might as well try."
"We need to get out of here!" Lucca whined impatiently, cheeks puffing in frustration. "I only promised to get you to Morgan's. Never planned to get stuck here with you."
Frei smiled despite himself. "But you are. You'll just have to live with it."
Lucca let out a groan, planting his face on his palms. Rhaio meanwhile let out a bark of laughter.
"You children from Arcana are an amusing lot." Rhaio grinned. He lifted a hand and tapped the iron bars with his fingers. "That's going to be hard to do though, especially with these bars."
"I could try to break them with my magia," Frei suggested.
"Can't," Lucca said. "I already tried."
Frei threw him a bewildered look. "You have magia?"
Lucca shrugged while Rhaio chuckled.
"Why wouldn't he have magia?" Rhaio asked Frei, genuinely puzzled.
"Because humans don't have magia," Frei answered, brows scrunched in confusion. "Unless you are Arcadian, an elf child, or Karavani..."
Frei paused.
"Hold on, it just occured to me," Frei turned to Lucca who threw him a puzzled look, "you have violet eyes!"
Lucca blinked. "So?"
"You have violet eyes!" Frei exclaimed.
Lucca pursed his lips. "Stating the obvious?"
"But you can't be Karavani!" Frei argued, more to himself than the people in front of him. "You are as pale as cow's milk for crying out loud! Even if you were half-blood, a Karavani's bloodline is too strong to be overpowered by anything else... even if you had a fair-skinned parent, you should have been brown like sand, or caramel, or perhaps olive, but never like milk... or maybe..."
And Frei muttered on and on, walking in circles inside the cell while his companions watched him.
"Why is this such a big deal?" Lucca muttered, though he himself was confused.
"I don't blame him," Rhaio said, pushing lightly at the child's shoulder with his own. "I was actually wondering about that too. Eyes like ours are uncommon, especially yours."
Lucca looked confused. "Why?"
"Well, only a certain kind of people have your eyes. Everything about you is different save those things you use for seeing," Rhaio paused, ruffling the child's curly, black hair, "and this fluffly thing on your head."
"Hey!"
"I think I got it!" Frei exclaimed, dropping a fist to his palm. "One of your parents was most likely fey, possibly an enchanter or enchantress since they are the only ones likely to get together with humans! Karavani blood is strong, but fey blood is stronger! That would make you Faebegoth like Salazar, which would make sense why Titania would spirit you away-"
Lucca threw him a deadpanned look. "And this matters why?"
Rhaio let out another chuckle.
"Shouldn't we be trying to figure out how to escape instead of making a big deal about eye colors?" Lucca pouted. The prince could tell he wasn't comfortable discussing his parentage.
Frei rubbed the back of his head in embarassment. "Sorry." He turned to his newest companion. "Any ideas?"
"I wish I could say I succeeded in my previous attempts at escape. Alas, these bars are made of Ligean Iron, and will only harm anything that contains magia." Rhaio sighed.
Frei's ears perked with interest. "Ligean Iron?"
Rhaio nodded. "It's an alloy developed by the best smith in all of Arcadia. He meant to use it as protection for newborn babes from courtless fey and Unseelie, but it seems other people found various applications for the material."
"Wait-" Frei held both hands up, stopping him, "when you said best smith, were you talking about-"
"Neo Arcadia," Rhaio grinned, nodding slowly, "former Knight of the Tristar, Arclore's most celebrated alchemist since Nicholas Flamel, the best smith in all of the west, Eli's famed apologist-"
"And the greatest Arcadian who ever lived," Frei murmured. "Wow."
Rhaio nodded, cupping his chin smugly. "Yes, my friend. Wow indeed."
Frei gasped. "You know him?"
"That I do." Rhaio said proudly. "And he's possibly here, in this mirror world too. And I will find him."
"Wait, what do you mean-"
"He's not the greatest Arcadian who's ever lived!" Lucca scoffed, crossing his arms. "Aru is!"
Rhaio gave him a puzzled look. "Who is Aru?"
"Only the greatest Arcadian who ever lived!"
"Be silent."
Their conversation was interrupted by a deep, haunting voice. The sound rattled through the metal bars, shaking the walls of their cell. The hairs on the back of Frei's nape stood on end while chills ran down his spine. The voice belonged to Morgan the Arcane, but he was nowhere in sight.
"Morgan?" Frei called out to him. "I wish to speak with you."
"Let us out!" Lucca yelled angrily. "Or I'll tell Mother on you!"
"You have no business here, changeling, and neither does the Queen of Seelie." There was a pause, then he continued, "I shall have Wick escort you back to Titania's Moor."
"Do not deny me, Unseelie King!" Frei said angrily, though his fingers were shaking with nerve. "Since when do fey spirits deny Maya's begotten?"
"Kings do not yield, Maribagoth," Morgan replied, voice laced with a tiny hint of amusement. "And a King's duty is to protect his lands from harm. Your sunlight nearly destroyed my queen's grave. I will not have you desecrate it with your seithr!"
"But you have no queen," Frei murmured, clutching the red gem concealed in his pocket.
"Gwynneth Aralia was mine!"
The ground beneath them shook, and one of the sharp stones on the ceiling fell and almost hit Lucca. Rhaio had fortunately pushed him out of the way.
"Morgan, please," Frei pleaded, "we meant Aralia's grave no harm. We only wish to find our friends and go home."
But Morgan did not answer.
"Morgan?" Frei called for him. "Morgan?!"
When Frei turned around, he was alone.
"Lucca? Rhaio? Where are you?!"
His voice echoed through the cell in a never-ending loop.
"Lucca! Rhaio! Anyone!"
Where are you?
Where am I?
When am I?
Help me...
Help me...
Help!
The world around him faded, melding into hues of red, yellow and green. And he was suddenly in a hall, facing an altar of bones and candlelight, surrounded by stained glass windows and redwood benches and evening song. Before him stood a podium that held a crown of seven horns and twelve gems, glittering beneath the starlight that dotted the high ceiling.
And beside him was a girl, blonde of hair and pale of skin, dressed in a bridal veil and gown made of ebony silk and lace. The forlorn bride turned to him with a solemn smile, eyes devoid of both mirth and grief. Empty like the chapel they were in, yet more beautiful than all the emeralds in the world combined. Her arms laced around his, her breath fanning the side of his cheek. She planted a soft kiss near the corner of his lips, cold like frost, stinging his skin.
Frei couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.
"My love," the girl spoke. "You are here."
Frei knew this young woman, from deepest darkest parts of his memory.
"Eloise."
... ... ...
Author's Note: This is by far my favorite chapter out of all the Frei chapters I have written so far. I intended to give it a spooky tone, and I also like it because I two of my favorite characters finally made their debut.
I hope you enjoyed this read. Leave a vote and comment on your way out :) Reviews are motivation.