Young Writers Society

Cinder was asked to leave the research team three days after Nikka fell. Ayda would have gone straight to Xaniphe, straight to Lord and Lady Elerian if she had to to get him back, but Cinder stopped her.

“It makes sense,” he insisted. “We aren’t really sure if Nadra will be able to read my mind when she takes control of me. It’s better if I’m kept away from sensitive information. Besides, I’m using the time to focus on getting Madeline home.”

That wasn’t the whole reason. Ayda had seen the way some of the dryads had been looking at Cinder. But if anything, the Shade threw himself into his new work even more. He had been leaving the Oak less and less, and whenever Ayda saw him his fur was disheveled and he was twitchy and distracted. Beneath it, Ayda could feel the fury that raged through him at being unable to help.

Madeline now joined them in the little research room every day, an unexpected replacement for Cinder. Xaniphe’s tutorship seemed to have come to an abrupt end, and Madeline’s only insight was that with Nadra’s forces so numerous and widespread, with so many refugees and more streaming in every day, there was simply too much to do.

Ayda had sent a letter to Vjorin immediately after the news of Nikka’s attack, but had heard nothing so far.

“There’s thousands of refugees, Ayda,” Madeline said after the fifth time Ayda had voiced aloud her worries. “It’s going to take time.”

But Ayda couldn’t chase away her disquiet, and neither could the rest of Crescent Moon. Rumors traveled faster than a dragon could fly. Tempers were high, and small scuffles broke out over meals. And when the morning mail cart came, it was mobbed by a desperate crowd, friends and family members of areas in danger or that had already been attacked. There was no doubt Nadra was moving east now, and she drew closer to Crescent Moon every day.

And so, amid all this, when Ayda heard that a new carving contest had opened for submissions at the Artisan’s Ebony, a part of her was taken aback that something so normal could happen when most of Arvania outside of Crescent Moon was falling apart.

But this was her chance! She pushed away everything that had happened over the last three weeks and spent a frantic evening going over her carving one last time, smoothing out any imperfections that had been bothering her and polishing it until it shone. The only thing she needed was permission to leave History Oak.

She found Cinder tucked away in a tiny nook on one of the underground levels of the library. Piles of books were stacked so thick around him Ayda didn’t know how he planned to get out. He finally looked up when she started telling him about the contest.

“You want to submit the piece you showed me?”

Ayda nodded. “Will you come with me?”

Cinder shook his head. “I’m giving you permission to go without me. In fact, you’re free to go anywhere in Crescent Moon.”

“You trust me?” Her heart leapt. She hadn’t expected that, not so soon.

“Yes. But it’s more than that.” Cinder turned back to his book. “I don’t think secrecy matters anymore.”

Ayda swallowed, turning to fly away. Then she stopped. “Cinder, are you coming to the equinox festival?”

The dryad’s equinox celebration, meant to pay homage to the Moon for lighting the long winter nights, was famous throughout Arvania for its food, dancing, bonfires, and magical displays.The equinox was in only a few days, and already Crescent Moon hummed with the low sound of singing as the dryads worked their magic to prepare. Ayda was glad they were still holding it. Even if it couldn’t be as spectacular in previous years, it would be a welcome break from… everything.

“I don’t know,” Cinder said, and he sounded so tired that Ayda left without pressing the point.

She landed in the courtyard by the Ebony. A small crowd of Little Folk were clustered around a building nestled into the roots of the tree. That had to be where they were accepting submissions.

To Ayda’s surprise, she recognized the dwarf who was standing in the doorway handing out paperwork and directing people to the pile of crates by the door. It was Karjal, the dwarf who had first tipped her off about the contest.

“You heard,” the dwarf said with a gruff smile when Ayda flew up to her. “Glad to see you. Here’s the paperwork, the boxes are over there, and good luck, kid.”

“Thanks again.” Ayda took the paper and moved aside. She filled it out quickly and signed her name, tracing through the loops carefully.

What am I doing? Here she was, at Crescent Moon, seizing the opportunity she’d always dreamed of. Striking out. Trying to make something of herself. But to do it she had run without a second thought, lying to her family and leaving them behind and telling herself she didn’t care, it didn’t matter.

And now they were gone. Captured or refugees or worse, and her home overrun. She had been so eager to leave, and now she couldn’t go back. Was it right of her to just continue on?

“I have to,” she whispered, wrapping her carving and placing it gently inside the box.

-

In all three Kingdoms, the pattern of ley points that radiates out from the central node is exactly the same. Any individual ley point will correspond to the two equivalent ley points in the other two Kingdoms.

A temporary portal may be created at any of the ley points, with subtle differences in the process determining which Kingdom it will connect to. It can also connect to the original Kingdom’s node. Temporary portals connecting to another Kingdom will always anchor to the corresponding ley point in that Kingdom.

Temporary portals are actively shaped and require a decent amount of power. Because of this, fairies will find creating portals rather difficult….

A tedious explanation of different methods to anchor a portal more easily with less power followed, which Ayda only skimmed as she lay on a table in the research room two days before the festival. After all, she wasn’t going to be the one making the portal to get Madeline home, and the problem wasn’t the strength of the anchor, but the fact that there was nothing to anchor it to.

She rubbed her eyes. So much searching, and they had found only hints. Hints that seemed to suggest Nadra's abilities drew from human and elvish magic. Legends that spoke of powerful talismans with power over all forms of magic. But still only scraps.

A line caught her eye.

Anchoring a portal temporarily drains the ley point in the Kingdom of magic, and it will take several hours before another portal may be anchored to that Kingdom at that point. (For example, after a portal is opened from Arvania to Erinore, the ley point in Erinore will be drained and unusable for at time. But one may open a portal to Neleluna at that ley point in Arvania immediately.)

The magic is pulled to the other Kingdom to fuel the portal’s opening. Estimates suggest that the magic can linger long after the portal is closed, for weeks or possibly months.

Ayda sprang into flight, seizing the book, which until this point had been nothing more than an over-simplistic textbook aimed towards fairies who didn’t know anything about their own magic. But if she had understood what it was saying…. She had to find Cinder.

“What is it?” Madeline had seen her jump up.

“Look at this,” Ayda said, pointing to the passage.

Madeline squinted, picking up a magnifying glass from the table so she could read the words. The hair on the back of Ayda’s neck prickled — all eyes in the room were on the two of them.

Madeline looked up at Ayda. “All this time, we’ve been trying to figure out how to anchor a portal to a place without magic…”

“…When there was magic there all along.” Ayda finished.

“Is there still enough?”

“This exact book talks about things you can do to anchor a portal more easily.” Ayda hefted it. “Madeline, you’re going home.”

Madeline blinked rapidly, a tear rolling down one cheek. “Let’s find Cinder.”

It was all arranged so fast. Cinder took one look at the book, sprang up, seized it with his tail, and ran off to consult with Xaniphe. Ayda didn’t see him again until the next morning, when he came to the research room to fetch Madeline.

“We have one day to teach you how to make a portal,” his said, lashing his tail with a sort of manic energy. “If it’s all right with you, you’ll leave the day after the festival. We thought you wouldn’t want to miss that.”

Madeline nodded in agreement. “Why do I have to make the portal?”

“You’re the only one here who knows Earth. The rest of us, we’d be fumbling in the dark.”

“Do you want to come, Ayda?” Madeline asked.

Ayda shook her head. “I’m fine here.”

And they were gone without another word. Ayda sat back down and opened another book. She read a sentence, then paused and read it again. And again. But each time she got to the end of the paragraph, she couldn’t remember what she had read.

Suddenly, Ayda slammed the book shut and sprang into the air, flying out of the room without a glance behind her. Nobody stopped her. She flew out of the History Oak, past the gardens, out where until recently she had not been allowed to go. Her wings hummed furiously. She didn’t know where she was going — she just needed to fly.

Fly like she had flown that night she first found Madeline, ostensibly to bring the girl food after Ayda’s parents had given her their ultimatum. But really, to run away.

Madeline was going home. There would be no more talking long into the night with her, no more listening to her stories about her home, or regaling her with tales of Erinore and Neleluna. They had hardly experimented with Madeline’s strange ability to touch Ayda’s magic — did Xaniphe even know of that?

And once Madeline was gone, Ayda would be free to go. She knew no secrets now — Cinder had even said as much. But she would also have no excuse to stay.

Ayda dodged between low trees, darting in and out of the patchy sunlight that shone through the canopy and pooled gently on the dirt pathways. The passing centaurs, dryads, and the occasional gnome hardly gave her a glance. The wind rustled through the trees, and in the distance the dryads’ singing sent thrills through the air.

A gnarled ash tree stood at the corner where the path to History Oak intersected with the road that ran along the wall on the outskirts of Crescent Moon. Ayda paused here, landing on a branch and leaning back against the trunk.

The tree’s energy rang through her, sending a powerful tingling throughout her body. She could feel it, healthy and whole and hungry for growth, magic thrumming through its branches. It thrived here in Crescent Moon, its roots spread deep and wide and firm.

When Madeline left, Ayda would be free. Freer than she had ever been in her life. Free to search out her family, free to try to find and apprenticeship in Erinore or Neleuna, far from Nadra.

But what she couldn’t do was go home. Nikka as she remembered it was gone. And so, without Crescent Moon, what would she be? A wanderer, aimless? She had once dreamed of that.

How strange to find that once she finally had nothing holding her back, she didn’t want to leave.