Archive of Our Own

The air near the holy well always smelled of damp moss along with the sharp, metallic tang of cold water. There was the low sound of the wind through the Slievenamon pines and the soothing trickle of the stream over smooth stone echoing through the area. For you, the world was simply sound and textures; you could not see. You navigated the contours of the earth through the soles of your feet and the tapping of your walking stick.

       You sat on the edge of the mossy bank, head tilted toward the tree. A soft random melody drifted past your lips—a quiet song meant for only the wind and water—as you looked out ahead into your own darkness.

       Then the wind changed, carrying a sudden, impossible scent.

       The aroma of decaying leaves and frost-nipped heather gave way to something intoxicating: crushing clover, sun-warmed nectar, and the sweetness of fruit ripening in a heat that belonged to a different season entirely.

       You froze, the humming dying in your throat. The silence that followed felt...strange.

       "You do not flinch," a man's voice eventually broke through the quiet.

       The sound resonated with your chest, bypassing the air to echo in your very bones. It was melodic, like the chime of silver bells caught in a breeze, carrying an undertone of something ancient and commanding.

       Your heart began to pound against your chest. You had heard of the stories—the stories of the Sidhe, the Fae, who would sometimes travel through this land during the change of the seasons when the border was considered to be much weaker (though, they were quite capable at all times). The elders warned of losing one's soul to the Fae, but you had always found their fears hollow. You possessed no eyes to be bewitched, and you held no malice that magic could exploit.

       Slowly, you turned your head toward the sound, sightless eyes searching the void. Despite not knowing who you were looking at, you weren't scared. Something deep within your gut was telling you that you had nothing to fear. And so, you believed it.

       "I cannot see the shadow you cast, My Lord," you said, choosing to add some form of respect just in case, lest you insult a higher being. "But even so, I feel no evil in the air you breathe. Why should I fear a guest?"

       A soft sound, perhaps a laugh or a sigh, drifted in your direction. "A wise answer. Many mortals spend their lives running from things they cannot understand. They see a flicker in the woods and call it a demon—they hear a song in the wind, they call it a curse."

       Then, you could hear the man approach. The footsteps were graceful and light, as if he barely touched the ground. As he grew closer, a warmth radiated from him; it was a heat that defied the biting chill of the Samhain eve.

       "Who...are you exactly?" you asked.

       "A 'traveler' from a place where the sun never sets," he replied. "I am the Prince of the Sidhe—of the Fae. But you, My Lady, may simply call me Noy."

Your and Noy's meetings slowly became a ritual of sorts. You remained cautious but friendly to him. Though you saw no reason to fear him, you weren't stupid to be so easily trusting either. He was still a Fae, after all. In the end, although stories were sometimes just that, there was always some semblance of truth hidden within them.

       The first few times, Noy, as if sensing your partial unease, remained at a reasonable distance. He would sit on a fallen log a few yards away, his presence marked only by the scent of clover. The two of you spoke of simple things: the way the wind moved through the valley, the direction of the mountain streams, the sound of the animals...

       Day by day, all the while the two of you would converse of mundane most would find utterly boring, he would move closer.

       Closer.

       And closer.

       And closer...

       Until finally, the distance between you had become nonexistent all the while an invisible seed of trust had been planted between you, managing to grow. Now, he sat on the mossy bank beside you, his otherworldly warmth a steady companion against the cool autumn wind of the season.

       "Describe it to me," you said, hands resting a top of your lap. "The night sky, that is. You speak of it as if it were a living thing."

       A pause followed, the silence filled by a distant owl.

       "It is an endless ocean of Indigo," Noy soon said, voice dropping into a low murmur. "When the sun retreats, the sky transforms into deep violets. It settles into velvet blue so vast it makes the breath catch. The stars are pinpricks of silver fire, scattered across the dark like diamonds cast upon black silk."

       You closed your eyes, attempting to map his words onto the darkness. You tried to imagine indigo as a weight or a temperature. You weren't quite sure if your "vision" was accurate, but it would have to do since you'd never truly know.

       "And the moon..?"

       "The moon is a pale, luminous pearl. It casts a light so soft it turns the edges of the world to silver. It makes the trees look like ghosts dancing in the mist."

       "It all sounds...beautiful," you said. "And lonely—" you nodded to yourself "—yes, beautiful and lonely."

       "It's only lonely if you stand apart from it," Noy said, looking down at you as you blankly pointed your gaze at the sky, his eyes softening.

One evening, Noy offered to lead you through the dense thicket of ferns near the stream when you had off-handedly mentioned them during one of your daily conversations. You told him he didn't have to. But he insisted.

       "The path is narrow here," Noy said. "If you'd like, you may hold onto my arm for support."

       Your hands searched the air until they found his. Once finding it, you ran them up his arm and tucked them into the crook of his elbow, feeling the true size of his frame for the first time. Noy adjusted his stride to match yours as he led you along. You felt the shift from the soft damp moss to the hard, cool surface of the white stone. He'd pause whenever the path became narrower, arm tightening slightly to ensure you remained centered.

       "The ferns are tall here," he whispered when you finally arrived at the destination. "They brush against your skirt like the wings of a moth."

       You placed out your free hand, fingers grazing the fronds. They were soft, cool, and slightly feathered. The sensation was delicate, a sharp contrast to Noy's strong arm you kept hold of. You couldn't help but to smile. An action not going unnoticed by your Fae companion.

The curiosity had been nagging at you for weeks now. You wanted to know the shape of the man—the Fae—you had been conversing with. Yet, you hesitated. To ask the Prince of the Sidhe to describe himself felt...impolite. However, the need to ground his presence in your mind was becoming impossible to ignore. You needed a "face" for the voice.

       You traced the wood of the walking stick with the tip of your fingers. It was now or never. "Uhm, Noy."

       "Yes?"

       "May I ask you something?"

       "What is it?"

       "I...how would you describe yourself?" You paused, heart thudding in your chest. "Y-Your face...your eyes...I-I want to know who I'm listening to."

       A deep silence followed, and you could feel the shift in the air. It made the hair on your arms stand straight. You wondered if you had crossed the line; perhaps you had. Opening your mouth, you prepared to apologize for your rudeness. But he spoke first.

       "That's a bold question," Noy said.

       "I...I hope it's not rude," you mumbled.

       "It's only rude if you do not listen to the answer." He moved closer then said, "my hair is the color of deep, dark wine. It is long, falling past my shoulders though I usually wear it pulled up; my eyes are of a similar shade. Then there is my face: it's defined by sharp angles and I have pointed ears as the tales say."

       You were quiet for a moment, piecing together his description in your mind as you worked to build him with the things he had given you. Though you were sure the mental image you formed did him little justice. Even so...

       "You sound quite handsome—oh!" Your eyes widened as you quickly covered your mouth with your free hand.

       This earned a small laugh from Noy. "Many mortals think as such. Fae can be very alluring creatures, even with those considered average by their own kind."

       "I'm sorry," you muttered while turning your head away from him and scratching the side of your cheek with a nervous smile. "I didn't mean to be so forward."

       "Honesty is rarely a mistake. But, I must admit, you are much more direct than I would have thought you to be."

       "I find it easier than guessing. That never quite does me any good in the long run."

       "I see," he said. "Well, even so, I won't say I dislike it...it's very much a breath of fresh air. Most tend to stand on their toes around me."

       Noy watched as the tips of your ears began to turn a slight red as your breath hitched from what he had said. The reaction made his heart flutter. He went to push a stray strand of your hair behind your ear; however, he stopped just short of doing so and pulled his hand back to his side.

A thick mist rolled in from the mountains, swallowing the forest in a thick white shroud. The usual sounds of the woods—the birds, the rustle of leaves, the stream—vanished. And the world became insufferably quiet.

       You sat on the mossy bank as you always did, Noy plopped down beside you, feeling the disorientation take hold. Without the lively sounds that you relied on the pinpoint the area around you, the darkness of your world felt worse than what was usual.

       "It feels as if the world has vanished," you said half-heartedly.

       "The world remains," Noy said. "The mist merely masks it."

       "Everything feels so unreliable. The ground...the air...I feel as though I am drifting with nothing to hold onto to stop me."

       "Focus on my voice." Noy didn't touch you, but he scooted closer to your side, the heat of his body creating a small defined space in the fog. "Listen to my breathing—I am the constant in the void, and I will not lead you astray."

       Your eyes widened ever-so-slightly. "Can't Fae be tricksters?" you asked, "or are those simply stories told by mortals so we may fear your kind?"

       He chuckled. "Some can be, yes. Though, I tend to be a Fae of my word and prefer not to partake in tricking the mortal eye...I have not lied to you yet, have I?"

       He was right; he hadn't thus far. Well, as far as you knew given your missing sense. So there was no reason not to trust he would pull something funny. And, from the many days you had gotten to know him, he had done a good job at showing you the opposite of all the horrible Fae tales you had heard run rampant through the years in your village. Not that you fully believed in them to begin with.

       You gave him a smile. "Then, I will trust you to guide me through today, My Lord."

A few days later, he brought you a gift.

       Upon making his place at your side, Noy dug into the folds of his garments. You could hear the rustle of fabric before you assumed he pulled something out. He then said, "hold out your hand."

       You did as told. He grabbed hold of it from the bottom, guiding it closer, and placing the object on top of your palm. It was a leaf from what you could tell by the shape. Yet, it felt entirely out of this world; it possessed the weight of silk but the texture of velvet. As your thumb traced its veins, a strangle little thrum pulsed against your skin. It was a low and steady flow of magic that traveled up your arm and settled in your very chest.

       "It's a piece of my home," Noy said.

       "It feels alive..."

       "It is," Noy said, "in the 'Golden Orchard' inside the 'Land of the Fae', the plants breathe with the world and sing with the light."

       You spent a long time tracing the impossible geometry of the leaf. Every ridge and vein felt like a map of a world you could only imagine. When you finally gave it back, your fingertips felt empty, aching for the return of the magic.

       "Thank you, Noy," you said with a small smile.

       "You are welcome." His hand moved, fingers brushing your wrist. The contact was brief, but the heat of his touch still lingered long after he pulled away.

You sat by the fire in the small cottage you called home, mind off far in the distance as you retreated into your thoughts. A small smile took root on your lips that had followed you after your most recent encounter with Noy. Across the room from you, your grandmother sat in the rocker, working through a tangle of wool. Though she soon paused. You were unable to see the way her eyes narrowed as she studied you from afar.

       "There's a brightness in you today," she said. "A lightness in your step that I haven't seen in a long time."

       Your body went rigid. "I am simply well, Grandmother..."

       "More than well. You have a glow about you. What's the cause of it?"

       "...I've found a new friend," you reluctantly said.

        "Is that so?"

       "Yes."

       "You best be careful with such things," your grandmother said. "The village elders have always warned us to keep our distance from the holy well, especially when the seasons change. It is a place of shadows and thin places."

       You nodded. "I know."

       "They say the Sidhe are not like us," she continued. "They are beautiful and alluring, yes, but their hearts are as cold as the mountain stone. They don't care for the lives of mortals. Do not let your curiosity lead you into a trap, child. You are far more vulnerable than most."

       "I understand, Grandmother. I will be mindful."

       "See that you are. The world is far more dangerous than it appears from the sounds it makes."

Seven days passed before Noy came back to the well. This time he carried with him a small silver-stringed instrument. The sound of the metallic ring of strings filled the clearing as he settled onto the bank. He played in silence for you, letting the music take hold of the late afternoon.

       The sound was unlike anything you had ever heard before. It was a melody that bypassed your ears and moved directly into your soul. The notes were bright and crystalline, yet they carried a depth of emotion that felt ancient. Was this what the Fae got to enjoy on the daily? How lovely it was if so!

       You clapped when the performance ended. "Oh, that was wonderful; I felt the music in my very bones!"

       "It is a song of the Sidhe," Noy said. "It's meant to bridge the gap between what is seen and what is felt."

       "How do you play it so perfectly?"

       "I am far from the best, there are many Fae more skilled than I. I'm simply playing the song the forest is already singing just in a way a mortal may enjoy it a bit more."

       You sat in the aftermath of the song, the reverberation still present in your chest. You suddenly felt a deep, spiritual connection to Noy—a sense that his very essence was composed of the beautiful haunting sounds he created. Oh, how you wished this moment would last forever.

One early evening, you were humming a low, mournful melody your grandmother had taught you. It was a song of the earth and the turning of the seasons, a way to ground yourself in the shifting autumn air.

       "That melody," Noy said, "it is beautiful, yet also heartbreaking at the same time. It sounds like a lament of the passing of time."

       "It's a song of the dying year," you said. "We sing it to honor the things that must go."

       "It's a beautiful way to live—to find music in the fading of the world."

       You stopped humming, the silence of the woods rushing back in. "Is that what draws you to us?" you asked, "the fact that everything in our world is temporary?"

       "I do not come for the passing of things," he said.

       "Then, why?"

       "I come because you are the only thing that feels real."

       Your heart skipped a beat. Reaching out your hand, you searched the space to the side of you. You stopped when you found his face. Noy didn't push you away as your fingertips traced the line of his jaw and the curve of his lips, an action stimulated by pure greed on your part. His skin was smooth; however, there was a tightness in his facial muscles. Eventually, he sighed contently and leaned into your touch, eyes closing.

       The air between you became thick, charged with a spark that had been building for the latter part of the past month. There was a pressure within your lungs—a desperate need to be closer than skin would allow.

       "Noy..." you whispered, lips quivering.

       Noy caught your hand, pressing your palm against his cheek. His breath was hot on your skin and smelled of the sweetest of honey. He held it there, as if afraid that letting go of you would shatter the moment. The two of you sat there for a long while not bothering to utter a single word.

       You didn't need to.

The wind roared through the pines, and the rain fell in a deafening onslaught against the stone. You sought shelter under one of the stone overhangs near the well, shivering as the dampness seeped into your thin clothes.

       Regret gnawed at you. You should have stayed by the hearth in the comfort of your home. You knew that. However, the desire to see Noy again had overruled your caution. You doubted he'd even be out in this. No sane person (or Fae) would be out in this weather. Perhaps you should go back. However, returning home seemed equally daunting. The path was treacherous, and you had already struggled to reach here in your current state.

       You huffed, hands tightening around your walking stick. It looked like you'd have to wait it out for a little while. However long that would take...well, you hoped not too much longer. Your grandmother would definitely be worried sick when you don't return shortly.

       Suddenly, the familiar scent of clover cut through the petrichor, and the sloshing of boots in the muddy terrain hit your ears.

       Noy was making his way towards you, quickly stepping under the shelter of the stone upon spotting you through the harsh rain. His clothes were soaked just as yours was, the silken fabric clinging to his frame.

       "You...you are here..?" he questioned, his words laced with absolute surprise.

       You whipped your head in the direction of his voice. "Noy, is that you..?"

       "What are you doing out in this weather?!" He grabbed hold of your shoulders and spun you around so your body was fully facing him. "This is dangerous. Look at you, you are absolutely soaked through! You belong indoors, away from this dastardly storm."

       "Oh, I—well....hmm." You paused upon coming to a realization. Tilting your head back a little, you smiled softly and closed your eyes. "The same could be said of you, too. Can't it, My Lord?"

       Noy let out a sharp breath, his intense worried gaze pointed at you though you could not see it. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled you to his chest and wrapped his arms firmly around you. A small gasp escaped you, the walking stick slipping from your hand and clanking to the ground.

       "You are completely reckless," he muttered.

       "Y-You are no different," you countered, though you found yourself subconsciously leaning into his body as a shooting heat made way to your cheeks. You then added, "...I thought you wouldn't come..."

       "I would walk through fire to find you. A mere storm is nothing."

       His words made the beating of your heart quicken. The loud sound of the rain seemed to fade as you pressed your face into the crook of Noy's neck, his scent filling your senses and making your mind go dizzy. Thanks to the magical heat of his body and the wetness of both your clothes, you felt as if you were being frozen and burned at the same time.

       Your hands found the damp fabric of his tunic in an attempt to anchor yourself to him. And he placed his own over top of it. Your fingers twitched, but you did not move them.

       The world outside the overhang ceased to exist. It was only the two of you until the rain finally decided to stop and you were able to finally go home. Your grandmother, to no surprise, did give you a harsh talking to when you came back.

The moon hung low and large over the valley, casting a silver backdrop of light that illuminated the forest. The air was unusually still. A soft warmth lingered, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the familiar sweet clover that always accompanied Noy.

       You sat in a small clearing a short distance from the well, the ground covered in a thick carpet of wild flowers and soft moss. For the first time in weeks, the conversation had drifted away from the weight of the world and the complexities of the Sidhe. The two of you spoke of nothing of consequence like how the way the light caught the ripples of the stream or of the strange yet beautiful shapes of the shadows dancing across the trees which he did his best to describe to you in a way you could understand.

       The peace was a rare gift. You sat with your back pressed to the trunk of a long standing oak tree, eyes closed while absorbing the presence of the man who sat beside you. But then you could hear the rustling of movement as Noy soon stood up.

       "The moon is far too bright to sit in silence," he said.

       "Oh?" You opened your eyes and looked in the direction of his voice. "I thought the silence was quite nice."

       "It is," he agreed. "But the flow of the night is calling."

        "In that case...whatever shall we do?"

       "Dance with me."

       "D-Dance?" Your eyes went wide. "I'm afraid I don't know how to, My Lord. I've spent most of my life navigating the dark, not the light. I surely have two left feet."

       "Then allow me to be your eyes," Noy said. "Give me your hand and follow my lead."

       "I...alright."

       Hesitantly, you outcasted your hand in front of you. He was quick to grab it, proceeding to pull you up from the ground, and drew you into him with one single motion. His other hand settled against the small of your back. And he began.

       The world narrowed to the sensation of Noy's movements. You focused on the weight of his hand, the way his silky tunic brushed your arms, his powerful strides, and how he spun you around with such ease...

       As you moved, the tension between you transformed from the tentative curiosity of your earlier meetings into something much more visceral. Every time his hip touched yours or his hand tightened on your waist, a fresh wave of warmth raced through your entire body.

       "You are a natural," Noy murmured.

       Your heart fluttered at his words. "I'm simply following your lead, My Lord."

       "You are doing more than that..."

       Noy pulled you closer, the dance turning more intimate than it already was. You could feel the solid strength of his chest pressed to your own along with the thumping of his heart. But then he slowed, soon bringing you to a halt. You remained locked together, breathing synchronized. Slowly, he removed his hand on your back and raised it to trace the line of your jaw.

       You turned your head up. It was moments like these that you wished you could see. "Noy..."

       Noy didn't reply as he leaned down, face coming inches away from yours, breath fanning across your lips. The heat between you made your entire body ache with the need to close the final agonizing gap you had so longed to do.

       But he did so first.

       The kiss was blunt and hungry. A low, choked sound escaped his throat as he deepened the contact. His hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed hold of the collar of his tunic as you returned the kiss with just as equal of ferocity.

       When he finally pulled back, he did not go far. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven and tickling your face. You were also breathless with warm cheeks, the ghost of his lips still burning onto your own.

       "I think...no. I know," Noy started, snapping you away from your thoughts, his voice a tad melancholic. "I have fallen for a mortal woman."

       "And I..." You paused for the briefest of seconds then said, "I have fallen for a Fae...not for his beauty as I can't see, but for his heart."

The sun had long since dipped below the Slievenamon mountains, the scent of damp earth and pine needles strong in the air from the early light showers of the day. Your head rested on the shoulder of Noy as the two of you sat silently under the great oak. Yet, as you did this, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off as Noy had been uncharacteristicly still today. You could feel the heat of his body, but he wasn't leaning toward you as he usually did.

       You reached out your hand before finding his on the moss and taking hold of it. "You've been quiet since we've sat down. Is something wrong?"

       Noy was quiet for a moment then said, "I have things on my mind is all."

       "And what may these things be?"

       "...of things that cannot be fixed with a song or a walk through the woods."

       Letting go of his hand, you turned your body toward him, brows furrowing. "You sound as though you are preparing to leave."

       Noy sighed. Shifting slightly, he placed a hand to your cheek to which you grabbed hold of his forearm with both of your hands. "I have things in the court that require my attention," he said. "I will be gone for some time....longer than I would like."

       An empty feeling settled within your chest. "Oh, I see..."

       "But there's something else. A question that I would like your answer to—if you can—before I leave."

       "What is it?"

       "If you could be offered the gift of sight," he said, "would you take it?"

       "What?" Going still, your eyes went wide as you let go of his arm. "Why...why would you ask me that?"

       "Because I have something that could change this—" Noy was closer now "—and I cannot give it to someone who does not want it."

       "I..." You turned your head down, brows knitting together as you processed what he had just told you.

       To see...

       That was what you had, at times, wished you could be able to do. At least when you were younger. However, there was something scary about it all the same. The darkness you existed in was something you had, in some strange way, found comfort in; it was all you ever knew since the moment you had come into this world and cried for the first time as you took in the breath of life. To change this would be to change yourself.

       Though, part of this thought process was brought upon the possibility being basically impossible. There was no point in longing for something you couldn't obtain. But if Noy truly did have something that could bring the world to show itself to you...

       "I'm not sure," you admitted.

       "You don't have to decide tonight." Noy moved his hand from your cheek to where his thumb now traced over your bottom lip. "But when the season has its next change, I will come back to your side and ask you again."

The days following Noy's inevitable departure were marked by a strange stillness. The well felt different without him. And the silence of the woods, which had once been a comfort, now felt empty.

       You went about your original routines. But the tasks lacked their former ease. As you sat by the hearth in your grandmother's cottage, the crackle of the fire sounded louder and more intrusive than it used to. You found yourself grabbing your walking stick more often, fingers tracing the grain of wood as if searching for an answer hidden in the texture.

       Every time you passed by the holy well, you felt a pull in your chest. You would stand by the water, listening to the trickle of the stream, and try to imagine the colors Noy had described. You tried to conjure the indigo of the sky or the silver of the moon, but they remained nothing more than ghosts of words. They were shapes without substance—concepts that your mind couldn't quite grasp.

       You spent your long afternoons walking the path toward the mountain stream. The ground was slick from a recent rain. And you had to be careful where you placed your feet. Each step was a reminder of the world you knew: the dampness of the moss, the unevenness of the stones, the familiar resistance of the brush, the dirt paths...it was a world you understood perfectly; it made sense.

       Yet, as you sat by the water, feet dipped  into the shallow end, a thought kept returning.

       You couldn't help but to wonder what it would feel like to not have to guess the distance of a tree or the depth of a shadow any longer. You wondered if the world was truly as vast and vibrant as Noy had promised. Or were you simply overcompensating it in your mind?

       Though, as the sun began to set, casting a cooling shadow over the valley, the curiosity remained. You stood, gripping your walking stick, and began to walk back to the cottage. The darkness was setting in. But for the first time in your life, it felt less like a sanctuary and more like a thick veil keeping you trapped.

The weeks since Noy had been gone were long  and almost unbearable to push through. You missed his warmth. And, more than anything, you missed his touch. You currently sat on the mossy bank near the well as you always did, tracing circles into the rough ground with the end of your walking stick as you waited.

       Today was the day he should return.

       The afternoon sun felt warm against your skin, though a biting chill lingered in the air—a reminder of the winter that was fast approaching.

       Suddenly, the breeze shifted.

       The scent of drying moss and dying earth was cut through by something intoxicating: crushing clover and sun-warmed nectar. It was a sweetness that belonged to a different season entirely. You perked up, knowing exactly what was the cause of the switch in the atmosphere.

       "Noy," you whispered as you rose to your feet and took a step forward. "You came."

       "I promised I would..." Noy said as you could hear him edge closer to you. "The veil is thin today—the boundary between our worlds is nearly gone."

       "I can sense it. Everything feels...different."

       But then Noy let out a deep sigh. Hooking his finger under your chin, he titled your head back. "Have you an answer to my offer?"

       "Your offer..." You blinked. "You mean the 'gift'?"

       "Yes. But first, I also want to admit I haven't been fully truthful with you about it."

       "What do you mean?"

       "I have been selfish," Noy confessed. "I feared if I were honest, you'd choose the dark rather than to be by my side for an eternity."

       A cold dread formed in your chest. "Then, giving me sight was a lie? Was it all a farce to bring me hope then; or perhaps a trick of the Sidhe? Maybe a sick joke to see my reaction?"

       "No. It is no trick; I would never trick you," he said quickly, hand slipping across your jaw and resting on the back of your head before pulling you forward. "The gift will give you sight. But it's the price I've withheld from you in hopes you'd be more swayed to choose my offer."

       You tilted your head. "The price?"

       "To accept this gift means you will no longer belong to the Mortal Realm. You will leave your home, your people, and the life you know behind forever. You must spend your days in 'Otherworld'—you will belong to me and only me."

       "And if I decline? What happens to us?"

       "Whatever your answer, I will stay by your side, coming and going as I did before. I won't let you go, even if our time will be much shorter. But you'll remain in the darkness."

       Removing his hand from you, you heard the rustle of fabric. A few seconds later, a concentrated essence of honey and eternal spring hit your nose. It was a sweetness so tantalizing; your mouth watered. Taking your wrist, he raised your arm then placed something in your hand.

       From what you could tell from the texture and shape, it was an apple.

       "The choice is yours, My Lady," Noy murmured. "Stay in the safety of the shadows or take a bite of the blessed fruit so you may see the light and leave everything behind."

       You stood there in silence, staring down at the apple that you couldn't see in the palm of your hand. The warning voices of the village elders echoed in your mind. You thought of your grandmother and the warmth of the hearth of your cozy little home. But then you thought of Noy's voice and the way he described the world to you. Then of just him...

       Oh, how you craved to see his face—to see the Fae man you had fallen for over the span of the shifting seasons.

       "I am tired of the dark," you admitted.

       "If that is your choice then take a bite."

       And so you did.

       The skin gave with a crisp snap. The juice was an explosion of flavor—sweet and tart. It tasted far better than any normal apple you had ever eaten. Then, a blinding, golden light ereupted behind your eyes. You gasped, dropping the remains of the apple, it rolling a few feet away, as your hands flew to your face as the darkness was torn asunder.

       You blinked rapidly, eyes stinging, as shapes began to coalesce. It wasn't long before you saw the silver glint of the sun reflecting in the well or the silhouettes of the mountains far in the backdrop of the forest. They were so deep and vast, it made your mind spin. You saw the moss and the stones all in a clarity that was almost painful.

       Then, you saw him.

       He was a creature of light and shadow, draped in silks of silvers, blacks, and reds. His hair was a river of deep red with eyes of a similar shade, swirling with an unearthly luminescence. He was beautiful.

       "I see you," you breathed, unable to stop the tears from falling. "Noy...you are everything you said."

        Noy wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "Do you like it, My Lady?"

       Looking around, your breath caught in your throat. The world was more vibrant than you had ever imagined. And the air was charged with a magic you could finally percieve.

       "It's incredible."

       Noy's expression was of quiet triumph as he grabbed your hand. "Then come," he said. "The orchard awaits."

       Turning around, he guided you toward the great white stallion that had appeared from the mist. Its coat shimmered like that of fallen stars. As you climbed onto the saddle in front of him, his arms wrapped around you possessively in a protective embrace.

       "Hold tight," he said.

       With a sudden thunderous surge of power, the horse leapt and lunged into the swirling mist above the holy well. The mortal world fell away, replaced by the eternal golden glow of the Otherworld where you'd live your newfound immortal life with the one you had fallen in love with.

       In the village below, the once blind maiden was never seen again. The elders spoke of her in hushed, fearful tones, claiming the Fae had reached through the veil to steal her away...

The Golden Orchard was everything Noy had promised. It was a realm of soft amber light. The trees were giants of silver and gold, branches bearing fruit that glowed with an inner fire. The air was always warm with the intoxicating perfume of eternal spring.

       You lived as the Princess of the Sidhe despite your mortal comings. Your eyes, once accustomed to the dark, were now bright with light, reflecting the kaleidoscopic beauty of the Land of the Fae. And you moved through the courts with a grace born of belonging.

       You sang songs of the mortal world to the Immortal court: songs of biting frost, of the smell of peat fires, and the breathing life of the mountains. To the Sidhe, these were  beautiful and strange melodies from a world of endings. But to you, they were the echoes of a life you had outgrown.

       Sometimes, in the quiet of the moments when the golden light was particularly soft, you'd stand by the edge of the orchard and look toward the direction of the Slievenamon mountains—your old home. You could almost feel the dampness of the well and the toughness of the moss. But then, a hand settled on your waist.

       "The sun is setting in the world of the men," Noy murmured. "But here, it's only the beginning."

       You turned in his arms, looking up into those striking red eyes—eyes you could see as clear as the bright sky. In them, you saw the pure and unclouded truth of his world reflecting in your own. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, tasting the sweetness of the orchard.

       You had lost the dark of your old world, but in the light of the new, you had finally found your way.