Speaker 1: A Forest of Earth and Moon, an Arcane Heart Studio
production created and written by Eansley Bay. Chapter sixteen, the Fay.
The woods have changed. I know every acre of the
slate timberlands. I know how the pines smell in January
versus June. I know the exact pitch of the wind
when it hits the levine. But this isn't my forest anymore.
The deeper I hike toward whispering Hollow, the sweeter the
air gets. It's cloying, like Lili's left too long in
a vase. It sticks to the back of my throat,
masking the usual sharp sense of dirt and resin my boots.
Sink into moss that shouldn't be here. It's thick, plush
and a vibrant, screaming violet worse ere here shimmers. It
looks like heat haze on asphalt, but cooler. It ripples,
distorting the trees mere yards away. I stop, I take
a breath. I push down the primal instinct that's screaming
at me to run, to shift, to tear something apart.
I lot the wolf away. The wind shifts and I
smell them. They are much closer than I anticipated, although
the haze should have tipped me off. At this point,
I won't find em. They'll find me, so I stop
and stand tall. I am Kernan slate, I say to
the empty air, heir to the pact. I am here
to speak silence. Then the shimmer tears. It's not a
sound like fabric ripping. It's the sound of a bell
being struck under water, A deep resonant ring that vibrates
in my teeth. Three figures step through. They are tall,
impossibly tall. They were armored that looks like it was grown,
not forged, chitten and bark and spun glass. Their faces
are beautiful and terrible, all sharp angles and eyes that
are too big for their skulls. The one in the
middle steps forward, is wearing a cloak of woven shadows
the air. He says, his voices like dry leaves skittering
on pavement. He leans down and peers at me. You
are small. I am enough, I say, keeping my voice steady.
I represent the pact. I try to relax, but the
roof is pushing hard on the fight part of the
fight or fight response, which the human part of me
knows a suicide. How may I help you? The Faye
in the middle stands up straight again. There was a
he is struggling for a human word. I can tell
Sortchya sometimes did that, even after living with humans for decades. Disruption.
We are going to ask Sorcha what has happened. I
had practiced dozens of replies, and they all sounded like lies.
So I decided on the simple half truth, hoping it
would be enough. Sorchaw is unavailable, but I can go
back and have him come to you when he is available.
I'm sure he can explain everything. Your ways are beyond
our understanding, or I would tell you I shrug, Not
even sure Fey would know what a shrug was. Sor
Chaw is available. The face said it with such calmness
that I didn't immediately pick up that he was calling
me a liar, And in the confusion, I stumble, I mean, sure,
he's available, but he's not at slate fault right now.
He's helping my father with something elsewhere. The Fay look
at each other with what I first think is confusion,
but I am quickly disabused of that thought. The one
in the middle turns back to me. Soitcher would not
depart with such a disruption, he would report to us.
I panic. I never panic, but I've never faced three
Fay lords before. I'm sorry, but I didn't want to
deliver the news here. Sorcha has passed away, passed away.
He died. I was heroic. He died defending the pact.
Telling them Sorts had died was bad, but I can
at least make them understand that it was his decision.
He confronted an invader that wanted to expose you, us,
all of us. I stop talking, which I should have
done minutes earlier. The Fay look at each other. I
get the sense that they are talking, but they don't
say anything. The middle one turns to me, this is unfortunate.
That's all they say, even as I wait for more.
Finally I break the silence. It is a tragedy. We
all loved Soucher. The Fay looks at me, means down again,
and then speaks, Take us to them. We will honor
them and then discuss the balance. I know what they
mean by balance, the cost the debt they feel we
have taken Sortcha or his absence is a price that
needs to be paid. Whatever twisted Fay logic they're going
to use. The result is the same. I will be
escorting them to slate Fall, and they will be returning
with payment. I don't want to consider what that may be.
The shadows where the light one stood. Sen whispers in
the until the wind did rise. It calls mar the
fleeting ancles signal boxers in fre