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Terra looked back at Bloom. The latter knew she was dead. Flames stirred in the earth fairy’s eyes, fuming with anger. Understandably.
“You did what?” Terra stood up and paced the little room, a hand like a visor at her forehead, the other a fist on her hip. Then, changing her stance, she looked up, trying to calm down. “You did what?” She repeated, licking her lips and darting a killing gaze at Bloom.
The redhead knew she deserved no better and yet, it hurt to see her friend in that state. Maybe that was the price of responsibility. It took courage to stand up against one’s enemies, but even more to face a friend. Yay, five points to Gryffindor. She sighed, relaying any other quote of the wizard’s franchise to the back of her mind, holding up her hands. “I know this was not ideal. But I wanted to evade him and get to Farah.”
“Excuse me,” Terra started, stretching the “u” in the verb, “this was the dumbest thing to do.”
Bloom clenched her teeth and kept her hands to herself. She didn’t want Terra to have a hint at the little notebook. “I know. But it doesn’t change a thing to the plan.”
“It does alright.” Terra turned on her heels and came to stand in front of Bloom. “You have brought yourself in danger, in that you showed yourself to the enemy and for what? Nothing! Now he knows you exist, and not only that, but he just got the proof you’re back, and that right under his nose! And maybe his next step will be a razzia of the neighborhood? Have you thought about this? We could be next! We will be next, but thanks for thinking of others, Bloom!”
The fire fairy jumped to her feet, eye to eye with the other young woman. “Oh but that’s interesting, isn’t it? Look at how late it is and you’re still here and no one knocked on the door to get you away.” As a matter of fact, and to Bloom’s defense, she was right. The morning sun was high in the sky, the first birds chirping long faded. The realization cut Terra short of what she wanted to say next, swallowing audibly instead. “Lucky you.”
“That, or… that’s a strategy to keep us insecure.” Bloom’s raspy voice of the short night turned a grade darker. She looked away. “He could have killed me but he didn’t. The presence of the girl stopped him. So… she is important to him. She is his weakness.” She turned back on Terra. “Tell me, you know yourself around in the castle, don’t you?”
Terra considered Bloom’s untold favor and shook her head. “That’s not a good plan. And I won’t participate in it either.”
“Wait, Terra. It might give us some leverage. And I need you in this.”
The other girl quirked a brow. “You seem very sure of yourself.”
“I know you have been living your whole life in Alfea, apart of a few years in Solaris, where Furlong had sent you and gotten you back from. Already this is a strange fact, don’t you think? Why would he choose to do so, unless he wanted to lure me? The same with Aisha, as his assistant. This is one too many coincidences for such a mastermind as Furlong is depicted to be.”
“Oh yeah, because Bloom the fire fairy has to be the center of the world, isn’t it?” Terra shot her a furious look, her acerbic remark still stinging in Bloom’s ears. “You, a prodigy… you think you’re better than the rest of us because of your granted power? But how do we know you really are that powerful? Or even better than the rest of us…? Your obsession with freeing Aunt Farah from her beauty sleep makes it difficult to see through. Need I remind you that you were no better than a little pup as you started back then, very clumsy with magic and otherwise a total social outsider?”
Bloom opened her mouth to reply Terra hadn’t been better, as none of the Winx suite had been, but Terra wouldn’t let her.
“Don’t you realize how difficult it has been for the rest of us to be cut off from our friends and family? As if it hadn’t been difficult anyways! But you had to come and draw all the attention to yourself and turn the whole world upside down!”
Bloom squinted with her eyes, sensing where the whole conversation was going. She hadn’t considered her existence any singularity until she had set foot in Alfea. From the first moment, indeed, the world had started to revolve around her, Bloom being the center of unwanted attention from everyone, even years later after leaving the Otherworld, no matter in what part of the world she landed. But that didn’t change a thing to the fact that her mere presence had really disrupted the life of others. Of that she was now, suddenly, aware.
“Terra…,” she started softly, “I’m sorry about what happened, and if I could change it, I would. But I can’t, because I didn’t ask for it.” She waited but Terra didn’t answer. Instead the latter just stood between bed and window, shifting positions from one foot on the next. Bloom went on. “I am a victim of circumstances as you are, but to be honest, if I were granted a wish, I don’t think I would change anything. Because every single experience in my life led me to this moment, with you. All of you. I used to feel sorry for myself and fight my demons, night after night, loneliness glooming over me, starving for something I can find only here, in this world. And I totally understand your reaction. But that’s also the reason why I want to get rid of Furlong. So that Farah might be able to wake up and we can have our headmistress back.”
She stopped, panting, and although she could have all and any good reasons to be mad at everything and everyone, Bloom swallowed and just looked over at her friend. Terra was now shivering, jaws drawing a nasty angle on her face, competing with the arch of her brows. Too tense.
“I know you lost a lot in this battle, and I’m sorry-“
“You know nothing.” Terra spat the words and walked past Bloom to exit the room. “And any other point of your plan should be discussed together with my father and Vera.” She opened the door and stalked out.
Bloom was left behind, lonelier than she had ever felt before.
***
She heard voices in the kitchen. Terra was furious, Vera seemed shocked but otherwise calm, and Harvey… well, he had difficulties to breathe, as if he had been stunned. It was only a matter of time until she would be summoned in front of the council to be judged for her stupidity. And really? That was the best thing to do. She had been selfish and foolish and her actions had endangered the life of many. Of her friends. She had acted upon her only will, a childish thought, and what had she gained? A booklet full of notes, the certitude there were more, and the unfathomable evidence that Furlong had read Farah’s observations as much as she had.
Bloom leant against the wooden wall of the upper gallery, overseeing the staircase starting from across the entrance. It wasn’t as big as her house in Gardenia, but cozy all the same. There was indeed something that did not add up, and that was the fact that Furlong hadn’t sent any troops to arrest her on the spot. Rosalind wouldn’t have waited half a day. But maybe that was part of that mischievous plan of his. Maybe he wanted Bloom to terrorize or unsettle her so she might make a mistake like coming back to the headmistress’s office in order to betray herself.
She was thinking of all this as a strong knock on the front door startled her. The voices in the kitchen went immediately silent, the soft creak of a wooden slat under a carpet the only noise that could be perceived. Bloom held her breath as she saw Ben’s bald head appear in the opening, as the knock redoubled, this time in a special pattern – two times long followed by two times short. Ben’s shoulders relaxed imperceptibly and he took the last few steps to open the door. Bloom crouched next to the handrail, hidden by the vertical slats, still able to peer through them.
A dark curly head popped in, all clad in blue. From their posture, it was woman, although a tall, muscled one. She wore a three-piece pants costume, red manicured nails and black booties, almost hidden by her pair of trousers. Ben let her in, closed the door and took her in his arms. As they swirled a bit, the face of the woman came into view. Vera and Terra joined them that minute, their faces also showing signs of relief. They smiled and welcomed the stranger.
“Is she here?”
Though the words were muffled, Bloom immediately recognized the voice of her old mate.
“She’s upstairs.” Terra answered, stiff but not impolitely.
“It was madness to appear like that in front of him.”
Bloom heard Terra scoff. “Yeah. Count on that – her, respecting rules, I mean.” She added, softness in her voice: “You know her, you were her roommate for a while.”
“We both were.” Warmth rolled along the words.
Bloom’s heart squeezed a bit. She couldn’t move. She didn’t feel worthy of showing up, having betrayed her comrades in arms so selfishly, and stayed put.
“What’s new on the front? Any major changes in His Lordship’s moods?”
Ben had spoken, anxiousness underlying each and every one of his words.
Aisha sighed lightly, sounding like she was tired. “Nothing really particular, at first sight. But,” she pondered her words, “in the light of yesterday evening’s events, I might better understand why he looked rather happy this morning. Not to mention that he left the school and will only return on Sunday evening. I had to cancel all his appointments-”
Bloom couldn’t stay concealed any longer and stood up in a flash. “You did what?” She ran down the stairs to meet Aisha’s severe chocolate brown eyes that instantly filled up with joy.
“Bloom! It’s really you!” With the lithe and fluent movement of the swimming panther she was, she quickly stepped over and came close enough as to meet Bloom in the middle of the stairs. Before the latter could properly stand, she was squeezed in a crushing hug she would have expected from anyone but Aisha.
“Gosh, woman… you’re killing me…!” Bloom managed to slip between two smiles.
Aisha’s eyes sparkled as she scrutinized the redhead, a big smile plastering her face. Wow, a premiere. “You cut your hair.”
“So did you.”
Both young women hugged more fiercely, exchanging cheers and smiling profusely.
“But… your eyes… Bloom, is that permanent?” Aisha’s bushy eyebrows met in the middle, in a sustained furrow, as they had so often in the past, in their very own way.
The redhead took a deep inhale. “No. I have to use some special tincture drops to keep the effect stable. But the color will wear off, eventually. As will my hair’s. Putting me,” still holding Aisha by her waist with one arm, she opened her other hand and pointed at the rest of the troop, “and those who know me, in danger.” She emphasized the last words and kept a steady gaze on Terra. For a reason she hadn’t been able to fathom yet, the Earth fairy was particularly mad at her, now that she had showed herself to Furlong.
“Well, about that,” Aisha started to un-hug from Bloom, as she obviously had enough PDA for one day, “I am well aware that something’s going on. Director Furlong never leaves the campus. So would you mind sharing the news with me?” She asked in the round, a quirked brow and a dropped smile bringing the old Aisha Bloom knew so well.
Bloom flinched, hearing Furlong’s title. She wanted to reply as Vera stopped them.
“Yes, I think a little explanation is needed here. But let’s go to the kitchen first. I will put on some water for tea. And for coffee, alright.”
Bloom sighed and smiled at Aisha, Terra still in the corner of her eye. After Ben and Vera returned to the kitchen, leaving the girls alone, it was pretty clear to see that Aisha had caught that vibe between Bloom and Terra. She stood between them, eyes darting from the one to the other.
“What is that bad juju I am sensing here? Do you mind telling me before we go to the kitchen and start talking about adults’ stuff?”
Bloom shrugged and cocked her head. “Good point, I’d like to know too.”
Terra just squinted with her eyes, and exhaled deeply. “Nothing needing to be of your concern.”
Aisha frowned. “I understand if you don’t want to spit it out right now, Terra Harvey, but you will have to, eventually. And if Bloom is here, then for one reason only.”
“Yes. She brings doom among us.”
Terra’s eyes started shining green and Aisha had to step in-between. “Okay, okay, okay, I understand you are angry, although I do not the exact reason why, but right now is not the time to let it out on Bloom.”
The latter stepped back, keeping the Earth fairy at good distance. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn she had just seen some yellow flashing in Terra’s eyes. But no, that couldn’t be.
“Let’s have some coffee and discuss our options. Terra? Bloom? Hullo-oh? You with me?” Aisha’s chocolate browns were implacable. Bloom mumbled something like a “yeah”, while Terra just huffed and shrugged quickly. “Alright. Then let’s move on and act like civilized people. Come on, kitchen is that way.”
A big pot with the simmering brown liquid of roasted coffee stood in the middle of the table, five mugs around it like Roman outposts surrounding a village of invincible Gauls in Old Armorica.
Bloom smiled inwardly at the comic reference, finding little comfort in something so futile. Back in Breda another student had shown her his library at home and she had been surprised at his whole series, one in particular, depicting the adventures of a little witty Gaul man and his strong yet simple minded friend, who loved hunting wild boars and had the strength of ten men. For he had fallen into the cauldron of magic potion of the druid Getafix as he was a little toddler.
For a while she had burrowed his collections and spent great time immersing herself in the European comic culture and she had learnt a great deal about herself too. Just like Obelix, she had those powers all the time. But unlike him, she hadn’t learnt – yet – to make the best of them.
A movement to her left made her land her eyes on the person who had sat down. A bowl of spicy chocolaty cookies made their appearance next to the coffee pot, but Bloom wasn’t hungry. A creamy chocolate hand picked up one cookie and a fine line of white teeth started nibbling on it.
“So, what’s the deal?”
“Free Farah… I mean, Director Dowling.” Bloom closed her eyes to reopen them softly, just to meet Aisha’s amused look. Before it turned the darkest brown. A dark brown hand came across the table, wrapping around her hand.
“You speak of her as if she were alive. But, Bloom, Farah Dowling is dead.” She hesitated. “You saw her being killed.”
Bloom swallowed, the vision of a disarticulated Farah prodded against a tree making her cramp her hands. She looked at Aisha. “She’s not.” She knew she was putting another person in danger, and Aisha was the last one Bloom wanted to entrust her dark secret with, but she was also her friend, not only Luther Furlong’s assistant.
The latter frowned. “No, you told us yourself. Besides, there was a ceremony, she was buried. It was official.”
It was Bloom’s turn to frown. She turned her head to the rest of the group.
Terra sighed. “It happened right after your departure, on the very same day. Director Leroy gathered the whole school, the students, the teachers and all the staff, and we processed to the spot in the woods that Director Dowling so particularly liked, and further beyond. There is a grave in the central graveyard, next to a tomb of white marble…”
“… veined with brown streaks, like old parchment…” Bloom murmured and sighed.
Ben quirked a brow. “It seemed appropriate to wait for your leaving. It was Director Leroy’s will to not remember Farah in your presence. She planned it so you could leave light-hearted, and find closure. And yet, as if she had known what was coming, she wanted to set a stamp and commemorate Farah’s lifetime as a director of the Alfean College for fairies.”
Bloom looked up. Emotions were mixing up in her heart. Too many to be able to speak up decently. And yet, it all made sense. A scheme to dupe any doubters. Rosalind had been turned to ashes, so there was little to bury there. Thinking of it she wondered if Director Hale had been remembered the same way. But Farah’s body had still been seen by many of the teaching corps and the specialists. Maybe it had been Farah’s mastermind plan all along to erase her prints and be left dead for times and times over.
And now Bloom had come back from the past to revive the dead to plan a future with them, like a crazy necromantic. Only this time she was serious about it as she knew for sure that…
“Farah is not dead.”
She looked each one in the eye, letting the words reach everybody’s mind. And before Aisha could start all over again, she open her mouth and spilled the rest. “Her body is preserved in a magical bubble in a vault underneath Furlong’s office. I know. Because I was there.”
She let the words sink in.
“I knew it…” A murmur left Aisha’s lips. At once, the water fairy’s face lit up, her eyes awaken with flames. “I knew it”, she repeated, more assertively. “I have never shared a bond with Director Dowling like you did, you and Terra, but I always sensed a reverence towards her, a kind of – respect like pupil to teacher…”
“Or disciple to scholar?” Ben asked, his eyes slightly glittering. With tears of joy or whatever, Bloom couldn’t say. But the fingers around his mug started to tremble.
Aisha looked up and grinned, pondering over his words. “Yes, just like that. And now I know I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t crazy!” She jumped from her chair and started pacing the kitchen, clutching her hands ever so frantically, like squeezing an invisible stress foam ball. “We need a plan. A good plan. A very good plan.”
Bloom looked at her old mate and nodded, getting back on the rest of the group, who was still processing that bit of information, the size of an elephant. “And I was a fool to think I could do that on my own.”
“I knew it too.” Ben spoke under his breath. “Just like Aisha. I knew something was awry but I always fought against the fact Farah was dead.”
Bloom took a big inspiration. “Well, technically, she isn’t-just she’s not… alive like we are. She is kind of – trapped between dimensions.” She stopped, having already said too much. “Anyways, now you know I am not after Furlong because he is a witch, but because his-“, she stopped again, biting her lip, four pairs of eyes riveted on her. She cleared her voice. “He’s a bad guy. The one that impedes me to see her.” She locked eyes with Terra. The latter kept quiet.
But it didn’t take a college degree to combine two and two. It was Vera who spoke next.
“Farah’s – body, is not far away, isn’t it?”
Without looking at her, eyes on Terra only, Bloom swallowed. Then, she turned to answer. “No, she is not. And I have the bad feeling that Furlong knows this too. He was waiting for me, in his office. The other night. He said so.” She took a shallow breath. “He is waiting for me to show him the way to Farah. And now that he left-“
“This stinks of a trap.”
Everyone looked at the one who had spoken. The auburn haired, green eyed young woman, scoffed. “Come on. Don’t you think so too? Just as Bloom magically reappears, Furlong decides to leave for a wellness weekend and explicitly asks Aisha to cancel all his appointments? You’re kidding, right?”
Terra looked at each and every one, lips slightly trembling, brows furrowing, hand palms up. “Oh, come on!”
Bloom inhaled again. Terra was stating the obvious and yet, it was too good an opportunity as to let it pass by. And even if it were a trap, something in her guts told her she wouldn’t get as good an occasion as now. She just had to be – wise.
“Terra is right, guys, that’s too risky.”
“Ha, thank you, Bloom.”
The redhead nodded, avoiding Terra’s glance. She looked down into her mug of coffee before longing for the pot and pouring herself another long shot.
***
The night was cool and the nightingales long gone to sleep. Like everyone at Harvey’s. A solitary owl hooted in a nearby tree as the quiet silhouette swiftly passed the shadows of the stone building. Eerily silent, in the clear night. No one was up and that was right so.
A shush, no rush, lithely, like a panther. The silhouette dived around the corners and kept mysteriously interwoven into the shadows. No need to alarm anyone. Soon a hand extended onto a door, pushed the handle down, and entered the empty office as delicately as a cat. Very slowly, the door was closed back, and in no time to count to three, the silhouette stood by the book shelves.
A sigh passed her parted lips. Her eyes scrutinized the manuscripts but all she could concentrate on was the passing of the seconds, one tock after the other. She took a deep breath and relaxed. Everything was absolutely still, and she knew it, she could feel it: she would make it tonight.
A moonlight streak caressed her short hair as she brushed her hoodie back behind her neck. To be here, among Farah’s things, although most of them had been removed, made it real, for a moment. Forgetting the last seven years, Bloom remembered the few free moments they had shared, in this office. Laughing, teasing, arguing even. Smiling faintly, Bloom closed her eyes, leaving it to her memories to transport her back to those innocent and lightful days.
She knew her window of action was impossibly small. But she refused to let it pass by. She knew she was not being righteous, on her own, leaving her friends behind, worse, breaking their trust. But no plan they had come up with would make it up to Furlong. She had no idea how dangerous he really was and she wasn’t really keen on finding out. All she wanted was to end Farah’s nightmare in this other dimension.
She shivered a little at the memory of that empty space. It looked like the eerie translucence of surreal dreams. It had seemed very cozy and nice at first, but something had been awry all along. A feeling of being – too peaceful, tidy and soft. It didn’t look like Farah, or her mind, for what that mattered. Bloom hadn’t experienced that stage of quiet while living next to the mind fairy. But then again, it had only been a couple months before the incidents had separated them, almost seven years ago.
She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Opened them again. Lost her sight between the covers of the few books left. Took another breath. Smiled.
Warmth. She remembered the heat of the room when Farah used to grade her students’ copies, her fine lips pinched and as thin as a line to not utter the words lingering on her tongue. Bloom sat in that alcove by the window, observing the older lady, wondering what curses she would have allowed to slip out from her mouth if she had been alone. She chuckled softly at the rosy cheeks of the teacher, glowing in the dim light, the flames in her eyes while reading the essays. Bloom would have given her left pinkie to find out, but only against the guarantee to grow it back. Only for the fun.
She relaxed a bit, meandering in the private apartments in her inner vision. The kitchen… It still had to be there, among other things. The stove, the freezer, the fridge. And the central table, big enough for four to play poker, but small to touch hands while sharing a mug of tea. Or coffee.
Bloom huffed. She had tried to bring Farah to taste from her mug once. At the feverish fluttering of her nostrils, she had understood that the fairy had restrained the rest of her facial traits from derailing by swallowing the hot gulp without a sniff. Disgusting to the taste, she hadn’t needed to smell it in her nose on top of that. Yet, Farah had managed to smile a little and place Bloom’s mug back in front of the redhead, apologizing in her very own severely educated – and very ironical – way. “Not my cup of – tea, I’m afraid. But if you like it, go ahead.” Yes, she had made a rhyme, something she did only when she was very flustered. Bloom had looked away and coughed in her elbow to hide her laugh. That night, the mind fairy had slept more tranquilly, one of the few times she had really let go.
Farah… the woman was so many things. A soft force of nature, wise and strong, yet so delicate and pure like an old twisted tree, hundreds of years old, loaded every winter with heavy lilac pink blossoms as big as two hands. She had never admitted it, but Farah loved shades of rose. It looked soft on her skin when she passed on her nightgown on. Oranges and hues of reds softened her otherwise dry skin tone at the end of the day when students and staff likewise had worn her out. And in the last months before her – ceasing, the revived memory in flesh and blood of her worst nightmare.
Bloom sighed. Meanwhile she had accepted the fact that she couldn’t have had Farah without Rosalind. For some obscure reason she had come to the conclusion that the former director of the College for Fairies had played an important part in Farah’s life, and not only to the worst. As if it had been Farah’s destiny, like a necessity, to be confronted to those harsh moments in order to grow and surpass herself. The more she had pondered over Farah, ever since she had reintegrated the Otherworld, the clearer she became about her feelings and thoughts. And the easier it felt to do the right thing.
Standing in front of the shelf, she let the air fill her lungs. With new freshness in her mind she blinked a few times. Then, like a snake echoing, sashaying on a dirty planked floor, the words of long gone scriptures, told in foreign tongues, reemerged in her mind. Like a gush of wind playing among drying sheets of whites under the sun, golden words started to form in her mind. She didn’t have to use her knowledge to guide them, they just played among the sunrays in front of her inner eye. They filled up the space between her and the room – there. They recoiled leisurely in the air, like volutes of shiny particles, a golden dragon with little flames. It was, as if they moved tentatively, waiting for her will, to act. Under a sky full of birds, a few clouds and sun beams, the strange words started to move between her neurons and mirror inside the walls of her mind. Like an echo long forgotten of waves crashing on a sea shore, Bloom listened more attentively at those relentless sounds, persisting and unwavering. Like golden threads forming between her eyes, at the top of her prefrontal cortex, she could almost taste them. Like roses budding, they smelt of springtime, warm sunrays and strawberry jam, fresh brewed coffee, and dusty brown curtains withholding rebellious sunbeams before crushing the party of silence, long after the night had left the scene for dawn to step in, longing to caress the white skin of her beloved still entangled in her bedsheets.
It felt like freedom of everything she had been burdened with all these past years. Bloom felt the lightness of those words lift her heart and her mood. She sensed the invigorating spray of a vivacious ocean splashing her face, licking her toes and playing with her long hair. She was one with the water, undulating with the waves, surfing between air tunnels, rolling among the elements and feeling fire in her core. It was as if her whole being was being awaken, as if the key to open the wall before her lay in her very DNA. And maybe that was it.
“Oh, Farah…”
With a gentle movement of her hand, a swish from left to right, two of her fingers and her thumb up as if to show the number three, the shelf suddenly creaked, rumbled and in a last startle, moved to the side. Before she could fathom what she was doing, Bloom smiled, contented and self-assured, and passed the threshold of the secret passage that led to the undercroft where Farah rested in her vault.
***
Farah – what a strange thought, she thought. Was it a name? Or a place? A recipe maybe? A designated era in a timeline? And what was that – time?
It felt – again, what a strange thought, she smiled. How could she feel when she had no body anymore? She was floating, dissected in stripes of energy, amidst the elements, exploded in thousands of millions of particles. Not that she hadn’t been there already, but this time it didn’t – feel – necessarily scary or frightening. At all. On the contrary. Been there, done that, and now, I like it! It was like belonging to the whole thing without having to be one anymore. Spread across whatever this universe or dimension was, and very much at peace indeed.
***
Bloom breathed heavily. Without second thoughts, as it was second nature for her by now, she conjured a ball of fire in her right palm. Immediately, the cold stairs of creamy yellow stone glowed up warmly under the stream of soft light.
Bloom moved forward, penetrating the darkness of the undercroft. Arrived at the end of the flight of stairs – she wondered how Farah had been able to get down without stepping by or falling, but yet again, it was Farah she was thinking of, and though the older lady was no goddess, at least, not generally speaking, it was still fantastic Farah she was speaking about in her mind, so, no need to wonder how she had solved the problem of poor lighting – she held her palm up and found an array of light bulbs screwed inside holders, most probably of electrical nature. Where there was electricity, there was probably a switch. And yet, following some unexplainable gut feeling, she restrained from bringing too much attention to that spot. She kept a low profile and went on.
Soon enough at the main junction that forked to the left, she found the vault where Farah had been laid down. The big door of dark oak stood majestically, unmovable. At once, a discharge in her heart, a pang of sudden adrenaline made her waver. How come was she to get inside if the headmistress was not present? Last time, Professor Leroy had opened the chamber, if she remembered well. Hasn’t it been?
She felt the air and her body responding to the echo of an old memory, and in an instant she saw herself teleported back to that very moment, little less than seven years ago. She had stood there, surrounded by… but of course! It had never been Leroy who had opened the chamber, but no one less than Lady Manifesta!
Taken aback by her realization, Bloom staggered a few steps until her left hand, the one without the fireball, felt the warmth – it was softly lukewarm, like the naked flank of a pup sleeping on his back, paws straightened out, happy with himself and the world around – of the wooden panel of the door, adjusting her posture. It wasn’t just warm, she also felt a pulse.
Her dragon rumbled inside and sent a puff of smoke to her nostrils. Danger. Without the need to formulate any wording she knew what his intention was. Caution.
She pressed an ear on top of the organic material and almost stepped back that very same moment. It was a pulse indeed! And it was not hers. Soft and quick, ta-da, ta-da, ta-da. Bloom stared at the door, mesmerized. The vision of the taut belly of a pregnant woman jumped in front of her inner eye. As if the door and the walls acted like a protective membrane, enveloping the life that lay dormant within like a precious jewel. It was an incredible feeling. Stunning. Electrifying. Magnifying. Amplifying.
Bloom felt supercharged at once and licked her lips quickly to store these moments in that part of her brains she knew would keep that sensation alive forever. She wished the flame to die, and within one second, heavy blackness fell around her shoulders like the coat of winter days.
***
She was everywhere and nowhere at all. It felt – ha ha, she couldn’t stop that thought – strangely organic and true. Although she didn’t seem to feel anything, it was more as if she had become the elements themselves, with no defined shape. It was divine and fabulous, pretty and infamously liberating.
***
Bloom placed her other palm against the door without knob and sighed. Her lips almost touched the panel but her breath did. She closed her eyes and pressed the rest of her body against the wood. And listened. It was like eavesdropping on a very secret and beautifully kept miracle. And at the same time, as if this sensation had been hers alone to experience. As if, all these years, no one had ever entered the vault, violated this sanctuary. As if Farah herself had woven a strong and pliable wall of energy around her stale, protecting herself from the inside from the outside.
Bloom sighed again, wondering if she would be able to reconnect with the mind fairy on the other hand of the door. Lady Manifesta had opened it as if it had answered her call, but Bloom couldn’t remember the proficiency to have uttered anything. She scoffed. How on Earth would she be able to open the vault then?
Do you want it?
A voice, like an echo.
Bloom, do you want it?
Again. But too crystal clear to be her dragon.
Do you really want to open the chamber and reunite with Farah?
She couldn’t think straight. Words and thoughts tumbled in her head and heart. The palm of her right hand started to burn and she reflexively turned it up. Well, it was pitch-dark, what was she supposed to see?
The symbols started to light up and move around, like they had in the guest room at Harvey’s, rearranging in a new pattern. They glowed a dark orange, projecting their light on her face. For a short moment she felt a discharge of energy flood her system, as if readying for combat. But instead of that bittersweet moment of adrenaline invading and supplanting her brains, it was a superb sensation of pure bliss, like when she used to witness a sunset back in Breda. Right before the sun went up over the sea, bathing the town in a new light, greeting Bloom to a new day, and letting her be part of something greater, larger than life.
Without thinking, she turned her palm face down to the door, and without even touching physically, energy strings stripped out of her hand to connect with the substance of the door. Words unknown to her streamed in her brain, flying like golden daggers in her eyes, drilled through the wood. The big door huffed like an old man, creaked on its hinges and sounded deep and thick like a stout bear that had had too much ale on an evening. It seemed to break under the sheer force of ten tons of pressure.
At the end of what seemed to have taken ages, the lock relaxed and gave in. Slowly, like in one of those horror movies, the door pane slided open in a little puff of dust, that she smelt more than she saw. Bloom braced herself for any disgusting odors, like putrid or acidic stenches, her nose being her only relying sense at that moment, but nothing of the like assailed her. On the contrary, the air that escaped through the door was – fresh and perfumed, like a basket of flowers on a spring day.
Shit, Bloom thought, she’s dead. This must be how decomposing bodies smell.
Her heart starting to pound quicker, she willed the tiniest flame in her right palm, just as big as to cast a few shadows around. She saw the big white curtains in a circle, just as she had left them the last time, a little gap in a V-shape where both met to the left. Where Farah laid in the middle, on the stale.
She couldn’t remember where the ominous light had come from during the examination and for now it seemed the little flame was good enough to guide her. Leaving the door behind her ajar, she paced up to the curtains and with a trembling hand she pushed one panel of cloth to the side. Her heart threatened to jump out of her rib cage and leave her and all this madness behind, but her determination kept it safely put. And yet, she was shit scared, there was no other way to tell.
Eyes riveted on the unmoving mass lying on the yellowish stone, she held her hand higher, and willed a stronger flame. It was a static one so that the shadows it cast didn’t move. But it was still fucking scary. Like what? Farah was going to get up and change into a zombie, attack her and tear her heart apart? Most unlikely. But it was strange. Eerily strange.
Bloom took another step, Farah laying exactly the same way she had left her, six years ago. And there she was, still. She hadn’t moved a bit. And looked more beautiful than ever.
***
It was like falling from the skies. She had never taken a parachute lesson or been pushed from the top of a mountain, but it made no doubt in her mind that falling from the skies through layers of clouds had to feel like that.
She smiled although it made no sense to, but she felt – she saw – a pulse of light race through the entity she was becoming. If she could have felt it, she would have giggled. It was good and enlightening. It was like bathing in sunshine, dancing with myriads of energy particles, melting with the whole universe, all universes. It was like knowing where she belonged to.
***
Following a flick of Bloom’s hand, the little ball of fire detached from her palm and floated over her head. It quietly stayed there to cast its light over the rest of the scenery. Bloom looked at it so it engorged and changed into a whiter shade. Satisfied, she bent to take a closer look at the body lying by her side.
It was incredible. Farah’s facial traits hadn’t changed. She hadn’t aged. She was still resting like Sleeping Beauty, the shadow of a smile cladding her lips. She looked at peace. And she glowed, encompassed within the enchantment that kept her from decomposing and turning her into a mummy. Bloom smiled at the thought. She didn’t know where she took it from, but she knew Farah was not that petty. Looks weren’t important to Farah. It was the soul that mattered. The soul, and the mind.
Bloom felt the little buzz of the enchantment crawling along her arms. It made her little hairs stand like electrostatic. It was foolish and yet, she knew she had no other choice. What had not worked six and a half years prior to that moment, could work now. She knew it.
She bent down and stopped, hovering just over Farah’s face. So smooth, so calm, so beautiful. Bloom placed both her hands parallel to Farah’s body, heart pounding in her chest. She blinked a few times. It seemed Farah looked younger, some of the wrinkles having disappeared or brushed away. The starting grey hair over her temples had receded and instead, caramel dark blond waves framed her smooth skin. Her chin, where longer hairs used to have pride of place, was now covered in precious fluff, not unlike herself. Finally, the age spot over her right temple had vanished, leaving her skin absolutely immaculate. It was taut and looked moisturized, as if she had been to a spa.
That last thought made Bloom chuckle. Another weird thing Farah would probably not give into. But she was not sure. Bloom made a mental note to ask anyone in the fairy world if such institutions existed. Probably. She knew no world of that did not offer such recreational activities; it was a must in every civilization.
She took a moment to study Farah’s lips, which she had dreamed of so many nights, holding her close to her, feeling the warmth of her bodies melt into each other, longing to kiss and love her like the desire that burned inside her made her cringe and wet her panties at night. No other lover, no other relationship had been able to clench the thirst she had been tortured by all these years. And though she had stopped asking why she had been losing sleep, forgetting about the Otherworld and Farah, ultimately, she had still known, deep inside, that this was meant to be. She was meant to be with Farah, for no other person was able, even sleeping, to calm her down like Farah did. It was – magical. True magic.
She bent further down. She could smell Farah’s skin, revealing and flowery. Even her scent was enticing, everything in Farah screamed they belonged together.
Bloom parted her lips a sigh, and just above the sleeping body of the love of her life, she finally pressed her lips, slightly damp and hot from almost chocking on her own breath, onto Farah’s.
A moment passed by. It felt as if time had stopped its course. And it was all linked to that one person only. Even if she slept or was in an artificial coma, or wherever she was, pure force emanated from Farah Dowling; it was palpable, tangible, and intoxicating.
He looked at her, the demon with fiery hair, wearing a mask and acting so proud. A girl with no experience, so infatuated and stupid, whose only desire had been to free the woman she had glorified, the only woman who had been able to rule Alfea, one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful magical, life organ of the Otherworld.
And she had led him directly to the heart of Solaria, the best well-kept secret of all. Just under his nose. And it was the only thing he truly wanted.
He grinned. Fairies really were the lesser magical species. So, so full of themselves, thinking they were so clever, and being so, dumb. He watched them kiss, leaning on the wall across the door the girl, who had felt safe, had left open. He grinned, arms crossed over his chest, waiting patiently that the girl did her little magic. He grinned, because he knew his patience had finally paid off.
He grinned, because Farah Dowling’s magic had never been so close for him, to finally get a hand on.