The cobblestone paths that wrapped around the grassy hilltops of Spring Hill were treacherously thin; foot traffic ground to a halt by a single carriage. Flowers dotted the landscape in shades of magenta, indigo, and violet, shaded by a smattering of short, stout Serpent oaks, barely taller than a man grown, that bore bittersweet fruit called Snakebite plums year round. Counting our cabin, there were seven homes, ?and among them only the elder’s could be considered anything but cozy.

  There was no bustling marketplace, just a simple square with a few places to rest and a fire pit. Few came to Spring Hill, even as a pit stop between the larger settlements of Sheerside to the south and Jade Hollow to the east.

  At the bottom of the hill, just outside the shade of the Mother Willow’s branches, was a farm belonging to Charles and Louise. A young couple who moved in just a few years before I was born, they provided most of the hamlet’s food, tending their livestock and crops with love and tenderness that warmed my heart even at a young age.

  When Mother sent me out to the market to pick up supplies, I often wandered down the hill to the farm, to hang on the fence and watch the cows graze and the chickens strut. Charles would come sit with me and ask me how Mother was doing, offering me some of his lunch, but I always declined. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy Louise’s cooking, but I knew, even then, that he needed it more than I.

  It was on one of those impromptu visits during my sixth Summer that I discovered my strange compulsion.

  It came upon me suddenly, a prickling pain in my stomach that swelled to a boil. Charles dropped his bread and rushed to my side, but I pushed past him, drawn as if by unseen hands into the field. Stumbling, vision blurred with tears, my feet led me to one of his cows, hunkered down away from the others, eyes glassy and breathing labored.

  When I laid my hand upon her side, she turned to me with a lethargic, strained low that made my heart ache more than my stomach.

  “What’s wrong, girl? You can’t just be running around here, you might get hurt. Hm?” Charles kneeled down next to the cow and took hold of her chin, gently turning her head to observe her.

  “She’s sick, Mr. Charles.” I said with absolute certainty, patting her side. “Here. There’s a sore in her belly, it hurts so much.” My voice cracked, and I leaned forward, hugging her. I winced, my long, pointed ears flinching when Charles ruffled my hair.

  “Seems that way. Good eye, Celeste. You run along home, I’ll take care of her now.” But despite the care in his words, I refused to move. Instead, shaking my head and latching on tighter when he tried to move me.

  “No! I want to help her feel better. Please, may I?”

  He tried to lift me, but I fought against him with a child’s hysterical strength. Finally, with a sigh, he relented. “Well, I suppose…we’ll be needing to find out what ails the old girl. Then, I’m sure your Mama can whip up something that’ll make her right as rain. Why don’t you —“

  But before he could finish, I was already moving. Pausing to kiss the cow’s cheek, I whispered, “I’ll be back soon!” in her ear before racing off toward home quick as my feet could carry me.

  ***

  I raced up the hill, tore through the square, weaving past Leon, the tavern keeper, and Eldwin, the hamlet fisherman, up the crest of the hill to our cabin. It wasn’t a great distance, but I crossed it with impressive speed for my short legs. Too much speed, as it turned out, when my foot missed a step.

  A pair of strong arms caught me from behind.

  “Whoa, there, Little Sister! Where are you off to with such haste?” Asked a friendly, laughing voice.

  I peered up at my savior, my older brother, Vasco. Three years my senior, with a strong chin and broad shoulders, he hefted me from the ground as if I were weightless and set me upon my feet. Pain throbbed in my face and, looking toward its source, I saw a yellow bruise covering his same cheek. Without thinking, I reached for it, flinching when it stung beneath my gentle touch.

  “What happened?” I asked. My eyes narrowed, a pout tugging at my lips. “Did Lucien hit you?”

  “Not nearly as hard as he hit me!”

  I turned toward the voice, only to crumple to my knees, clutching my eye. A blinding ache pierced deep into my skull, spilling tears down my cheeks.

  “Celeste!”

  “Hey, Little Star, are you hurt?”

  I felt Vasco’s hands on my back, then a second pair — as familiar; not quite as comforting — shortly after. Raising my head, I saw a pair of concerned blue eyes, one of them framed in black, beneath a mop of fiery hair. My brother’s dearest friend, and our neighbor, Lucien.

  My tear-streaked gaze flew back and forth between them, cheek and eye aching in equal parts. I struggled to think, struggled to form words. All that came out when I opened my mouth was a pitiful whimper and fresh sobs.

  “What is going on out here? Celeste? Sweet Elysium, what’s wrong, Dear?”

  I turned, instinctively burying myself in my Mother’s embrace. Her arms warmed me, but did little to smother the pain still covering my face. My lips moved, forcing out in a strangled gasp, “Vasco and Lucien are hurt!”

  “Have you two been at it again? You’ve been warned thrice now about sparring around Celeste. Now look what you’ve done.” Auntie Janie, Lucien’s mother, stormed past us. Shortly after I felt a sharp pain ripping at my ear and cried out, sinking to the ground and clutching my head.

  Mother must have noticed. “Jehanne! Let him go.” The pain dulled, still stinging, but not so sharp. She pulled my hand away from my ear, then ran her hand through my hair, caressing my head and shushing my tears. “Never fear, dear. They’ll be fine.”

  “It hurts!”

  “What hurts, Celeste?” Mother’s brow raised when I pulled back and pointed to my eye and then my cheek. She looked to Vasco and Lucien. “Did she get between you?”

  “Of course not, Mother. She was running home like a Fellbeast was chasing her and tripped. I caught her and she began to cry when she saw this.”

  A poke and a fresh prick of pain on my cheek. I whimpered and shook my head. “Stop! It hurts!” Eyes clenched, head buried in Mother’s chest, I know not if they spoke or merely traded a glance, but after a moment, Auntie Janie broke the silence.

  “I’ll take these two. Don’t worry, Celeste, they’re none the worse for the wear. Come along, you lot, let’s get you patched up.”

  I heard footsteps leaving. As they went, the pain in my face dulled until it was little more than a pulse in the distance. Finally able to speak, I settled my tears and wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve. “I need medicine!”

  “Whatever for, Celeste?”

  “Mr. Charles’ cow is sick and has a bellyache, so I need to get her medicine so it won’t hurt anymore.” I scrambled to my feet and tugged her sleeve, dragging her toward the door. “Come, Mother! You have to help! She’s hurting so!”

  Mother relented and allowed me to pull her inside. I raced to the medicine cabinet, with her following at a more restrained pace. She pulled open the doors and dug through the shelves.

  “Very well, very well. Settle, Celeste. A bellyache won’t be the end of her.”

  “But, she’s hurting so badly, Mother! You have to do something so she can feel better!” At her side, I stood on my tiptoes to watch her shuffle through the bottles. My gold eyes, reflected in the glass, were sparkling with tears I could not stop shedding. Just the memory of the poor cow’s pain brought a swell of emotion to my throat, and I started to cry anew.

  “Here we are. Sunspire daisy tonic,” she pulled out a phial of red liquid, “add a few drops of Wildekin berry extract,” she added a few heavy drops of orange, corked the phial and shook it, “and some slumbergrass to help it go down.” She pulled a clump of gray-green grass from a drawer and put it into a satchel. Then, she handed the two to me.

  “When you get there, ask Charles for a cloth. Then, soak a third of the slumbergrass with this mixture and make sure she eats it all. She should drift right off to sleep. Then, just ask Charles to repeat it the next two days and she’ll be right as rain.”

  “I’ll do it.” I said, turning on my heel and rushing to the door.

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  “You’ll tell him?” Mother called after me. But I answered her not, too focused on maintaining speed without stumbling a second time.

  ***

  Though I did tell Charles, I refused to let him administer the aid. Perhaps it was foolish of me, but the thought of him not taking care enough to see it done right filled me with such dread that I dared not trust anyone else. Once the cow had been fed and drifted to sleep, I settled in beside her and made it known I wouldn’t be leaving until the pain was gone.

  Charles asked me throughout the day, ordered me even, to head home and let him take care of it, but I would hear none of it. “You’ll catch something nasty if you stay out here in the dirt, girl.” He said with a heavy sigh and no shortage of frustration. If he tried to lift me, I latched onto her and refused to be moved.

  In the times he succeeded, I simply hopped the fence once more and hurried back to her side.

  Vasco and Lucien stopped by during the day to convince me to abandon my post. Vasco threatened to carry me home, but even at such a young age, I knew it was a hollow threat. He was strong enough, to be sure, but he wouldn’t lay a hand on me in anger or frustration. Nor would Lucien, though he did threaten to tickle me into compliance. But one glance at the anguished grimace on my face kept him from acting on it. Soon enough, they grew bored and left me to my duty.

  For three nights, I lay faithfully by her side without sleeping, helping Charles feed her when she awoke, then providing her another dosage of the remedy before settling in again. With each passing day, I could feel her breathing settle and the pain in my belly weakening.

  On the fourth morning, the cow greeted me with a cheerful low and a wet lick across my face that made me laugh for the first time in days. I returned the kiss and stumbled to my feet, my dress and legs covered in dried mud.

  “Are you well now?” I asked, scratching her ears. The cow lowed once more, the pain in her belly completely gone. I kissed her one last time, then began the trek home. I saw Charles coming out of his house at the rooster’s cry and waved to him. “She’s well now! I’m going home!”

  Charles tilted his hat my way and nodded. “Thank you, kindly, Miss Celeste. Tell your Mama I tried sending you home sooner, it weren’t my fault you’re covered in mud.”

  “I will!”

  ***

  I returned home just as Mother finished setting the table for breakfast. She turned to me as I came in the door, her peaceful morning smile vanishing into a scowl.

  “Celeste! It’s about time you return, girl. Look at you! You’re covered in filth!”

  From the table, Vasco laughed, taking a piece of fresh bread for himself. “I told you, Mother, she was sleeping with the cow. It would be stranger if she wasn’t a mess.” He took a bite and chewed it, continuing with a full mouth, “Is she well?”

  Despite Mother’s look of disapproval, I beamed and nodded. “She is! Right as rain!”

  “Well, it’s good to hear someone is. Are you quite through with this little adventure of yours?” Mother asked.

  My fingers twitched, and my gaze drifted to her hands, balled into fists and resting on her hips. Dull pain burned between her fingers, made worse whenever she clenched them in anger. With a frown, I nodded and replied in a soft voice, “I am, Mother. I’m sorry.”

  She sighed and relaxed her hands, her shoulders slouched. “Oh Celeste, it’s quite all right. Let us get you cleaned up before we do anything else. Come, before you track mud all over the floor.” She led me by the hand out the back door to the washroom, a small stone building between the cabin and Mother’s garden.

  While she drew the water, I peeled off my filthy dress and mud-caked boots, then sat on a short wooden stool staring at my feet. With every crank of the well, the pain in my fingers grew. After the third bucket, my hips ached. By the time the tub was full and heating, I sat hunched forward, biting my lip to keep from crying.

  “I swear, Celeste,” Mother said as she sat on the wooden bench behind me and began the arduous process of pulling dirt, hay, and grass from my long, lilac hair. “You must be the worst girl since Eve, giving your poor mother such a fright. You show up, weeping because your brother was getting up to his usual mischief, then you run off for three nights to sleep in a field.” She sighed and chuckled. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “She was hurting. I couldn’t just leave her.” My voice was small and trembling. The fingers threading through my hair normally felt so comforting, but it was not the knots in my hair nor the way the sticky clumps of dirt pulled that made me cry, but the constant sting in her hands and back. “You’re hurting too, Mother.”

  “Oh, I was just worried is all. I’m not cross with you, Dear.”

  I shook my head. “No, you’re hurting.” Turning, I took her hands in mine and touched her knuckles. “Here.” Then I pointed to her hips. “And here.”

  Mother stared at me, silent. Then, she nodded slowly and motioned for me to turn around. A second later, a soapy brush was scrubbing my back, the swish-swashing sound a lulling rhythm.

  “I do. But, that’s not your fault, Celeste. That’s what happens when you get old,” she chuckled. “Some pains just have to be. It’s how we know we’ve lived…and how we learn what we can endure.”

  “I don’t like that.” I said, shaking my head. My lips pursed and brow furrowed. Then, speaking with absolute confidence, I turned back to her and said, “I want to be an apothecary like you, Mother. Then, I’ll make your hurting stop.”

  Mother just laughed. She brushed the dirt from my cheek and kissed it. “I hope you do, Dear. I could use some help around here, and you’re as good an assistant as anyone could ask for.”

  A smile found its way to my lips, despite the ache still throbbing in my hands. “Can I start learning today?”

  “Well…I’ve no reason to decline, I really do need the help. Have you eaten?”

  “No, I wasn’t hungry.”

  “Well, let’s get that belly full before we start. It’s hard work, and I’ll hear no excuses once we get going!”

  I still wasn’t hungry, but I already knew better than to argue. Instead, I just smiled and nodded just before she doused me with a bucket of cold water.

  ***

  “— And then, they will ride into the Dreadlands, weapons in hand, led by the ethereal fairy light of the Promised Healer, powerful enough to banish even the blackest darkness…” It was a story Mother had told us time and again. A story everyone in Willowhaven, mayhap even the world, knew.

  The prophecy of the Promised Healer.

  Mother sat in her rocking chair, Vasco and I at her feet, my head on his shoulder, his arm around me, the pair of us snuggled beneath a blanket in front of the fireplace. Although I knew the words by heart, I couldn’t help but gasp and cheer as her voice swelled and ebbed, spinning a tale so beautiful I could see it plain as day if I just closed my eyes.

  The mightiest Heroes of Willowhaven, led by the Promised Healer, to mend the world. What would they be like? Strong and brave, no doubt. But would they be kind? Surely they would. A Promised Healer would stop to tend to a sick cow, even if it meant delaying the fight with the Fiend Lord.

  I sighed, wishing it could be me. If it was, I was certain I could keep my promise to heal Mother’s hands.

  “— and then they will ride back to the valley, victorious!” Vasco and I cheered, and Mother laughed. “Then, the world will, at last, begin to heal, and we need not fear the dark ever again.”

  One thing always stuck out to me at the end of the prophecy. It made my brow furrow and my lips purse. I’d never spoken it before, but on that night, curiosity got the best of me. “What happens to the Fiend Lord?”

  “He’ll be destroyed, Celeste.” Vasco answered, He thrust his fist out in front of him. “Then there won’t be any more Fiends or Fellbeasts anywhere in the world!”

  “Oh…” My face fell. “That doesn’t seem fair. Why doesn’t he get to see the new happy world? What if he makes a promise to be good?”

  “The Fiend Lord can’t be good, Celeste. He’s the child of Eve. He’s evil.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Mother said, gently correcting Vasco when she saw my frustration. She patted her lap, and I climbed into her arms. Then she held me and slowly rocked. “I wish with all my heart that could be the way it ends, Celeste. It would be nice for kindness to win out in the end.”

  “Why can’t it?”

  “Because…” She sighed and shook her head. “Eve’s fall from Elysium brought evil into this world. Evil like the Fiend Lord…and some evil just can’t be forgiven. It can only be destroyed to stop the harm it causes.”

  There was pain in her voice and a stabbing ache in her chest as she spoke. Without thinking, I reached out and laid my hand over her heart. I felt it within my chest, as though stabbed by a knife. My arms snaked around her neck, my face buried in her shoulder. I held her, tight as I could, but my little body could only dampen the hurt, not stomp it out.

  ***

  After Mother put me to bed that night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to Vasco’s breathing from across the room. Slow and steady, snoring within a few cycles of the clock. I envied that about him, for I hadn’t slept once that I could remember. Though I laid down my head and shut my eyes, my body never tired for long and my mind never drifted off into a dream as others had described.

  There was no darkness, save the back of my eyes. No peace, my ears twitched as they picked up every floorboard creak in the house, every cricket chirp, and every tick of the clock. But, if I tried, really tried, I could do something else.

  My eyes fell shut, and I imagined myself stepping through a door shaped like my body.

  ***

  And opened my eyes back in my bedroom, though it wasn’t quite my bedroom. There was a shifting haze at the corner of my vision, a shine to everything as though I were looking at it through clear crystal. When I sat up, I left my body behind in my bed.

  I knew not what this place was, only that it was where I awoke when I tried to sleep. It was the same as when I was awake, though no one could see or hear me. I could touch the things I saw, read and smell and taste them, but rifling through Mother’s books did not leave a mess, nor did stealing Vasco’s sour drops leave the bag empty upon waking. It was as if I’d stepped into a reflection of the world I knew, one only I could see or reach.

  Most nights, I looked through Mother’s books or walked in the garden, trying to recall the plants she’d taught me. I walked the lengths of Spring Hill’s paths and visited the farm to watch the animals sleep.

  That night, though, a sound in the cabin stopped me. I crept down the hall and peered into the sitting room.

  Mother sat in her rocker, hunched over, face buried in her hands, and shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. The ache I’d felt in her chest had reached full bloom, a violent throb that pierced to the bone like thorned roots. It brought me to tears in an instant, and though it ached terribly, forced my feet to move until I was holding her tight.

  “Giulio, I’m so sorry…”

  Giulio. That was the name of Vasco’s father. A man I’d never met; a man I could never meet. He died before I was born, when Vasco was young. There were paintings of him, journals he kept, and everyone in Spring Hill had a story to tell. He was a good man. I wished I could have known him, if even for a day.

  “It’s so hard without you, Dearest. Vasco is growing. He’s strong. So strong. Oh, if you could see! And brave, just like you. You’d be so proud…” Mother wiped her eyes, but more tears soon replaced the ones she’d washed away. “I miss you so…I wish you could meet her, as you did him.”

  My hold on her tightened, and I wished — begged Titania for the strength to make it so — she could feel me. To know that I was there; that she wasn’t alone. Anything to ease the pain rooted in her heart. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reach her.

  When she eventually retired to bed, I followed behind her, slipped into bed next to her, and laid there wishing I could do more.

  Thank you so much for reading!

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