The frigid winter air puffed out from her rosy lips in a cloud as the girl-child scampered into the forest. Her wild hair flew behind her in a reckless tangle, forever escaping her mother's carefully tied plaits. Her cloak flapped around her ankles, and she impatiently palmed handfuls of the rough fabric, hiking the hem halfway up her calves. Her thin boots offered little protection from the frozen ground, but she was too giddy to care.
She spun around in a pirouette, laughing breathlessly as snowflakes drifted down from the trees above, dusting her eyelashes and cheeks with what looked like a covering of powdered sugar. Darting into the trees, she wasted no time before beginning her quest.
She was too filled with unrestrained joy and excitement at disobeying her mother's rules to care that she was traipsing into the clutches of something that she could never hope to escape. She was counting on a happy ending without listening to the moral of the story.
Hermione was looking for something that wasn't quite natural. She wanted to see a fae up close, she didn't care that she was on the cusp of womanhood, far too old to believe in magic.
The bedtime stories told to children to frighten them into behaving only stoked Hermione's curiosity; she was often described as far too intelligent for her age. She was precocious, a master at picking loopholes in her parent's attempts to rein her in. She loved to learn, to discover. At eleven years old, she had already formed many strong opinions about the world around her.
The little village of Ashridge Wood was far too boring, naturally. She wanted to see everything, know everything.
Her father had taught her to read and write (despite her grandmother's wishes), and she knew that he sometimes regretted it when she could argue almost as well as he could.
She absentmindedly ran her hands though the branches of a barren fool's parsley bush, silently reciting its uses. Fever reducer, antiseptic, also a powerful tool against tooth decay.
Her father was a doctor, so it was only natural that she had picked up some useful knowledge about plants and remedies. She'd made a point to memorize all of the plants that grew around their home, just for fun. Her mother didn't know them as well as she did, so it was a surefire way to weasel her way into what her father was doing in his surgery. It fascinated her, the way that the body worked.
She wanted to be just like her father, but as she was only a girl in a remote village, that could get her in serious trouble. It wasn't uncommon for a woman to be dragged to a feudal lord's castle and accused of witchcraft, even for knowing nothing but the most rudimentary facts of medicine.
But Hermione was a child, and the concerns of her parents only added fuel to her fire; her mother often said that her curiosity was a curse.
"A literate girl is one step away from being a witch! Hermione, no one can know how smart you are, you'll be in danger."
Little did she know, her mother was right. It was only a matter of time before she began to attract attention.
As much as she loved medicine, she loved fairy tales even more. She had always insisted that magical creatures were real. She'd been chided and gently reminded that there was no such thing as magic. The stories were written to teach children to behave, not an invitation to go gallivanting into the woods.
But something about them nagged at her. Surely there was some truth to them if they were so common as to be written down?
Hermione wanted desperately to believe in magic.
She needed to know for herself.
It was with the prideful arrogance of an eleven-year old that she'd come to the stubborn conclusion that she couldn't put aside any belief in the local legends unless she found proof that they weren't true.
"Curiosity without caution leads to recklessness, Hermione," her father had said sternly when she'd begged for permission to enter the forest, his steely expression softening immediately as she stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. "They are just stories, the woods are dangerous at the best of times."
"But Father, I can't stop being reckless if I'm not allowed to learn!" She'd retorted, sounding decades older than her mere eleven years. "I'll believe that there are no magical creatures when I'm not able to find them! I need proof, and you've never seen them either so you can't tell me that I'm wrong. It's a paradox."
She'd stuck out her chin and crossed her arms with the confidence and authority of an empress, much to her father's amusement.
"Very well. Don't go too far, and be back before dark."
"Thank you, Father!"
She traipsed happily among the cherry and oak trees of the forest, suddenly laughing with delight and surprise as a pile of snow suddenly overcame the strength of the branch holding it and dumped the white powder all over her head. Shivering, she dusted herself off and continued, her tawny eyes raking over the ground for any of the signs that she was looking for.
Grandmother said that there would be a series of markers, then I could find the fairy circle.
She turned her hood up as an icy wind blew through the trees, sending a shiver down her spine. Determinedly, she continued into the thicket, stopping only to inspect a small carving in the trunk of a nearby tree.
At first glance, it could have been a hunter's mark, but she was delighted to see that it was nothing of the sort. A strange rune had been carved into the bark, so worn and weathered that she thought that it must have been there for some time. It was a crude representation of a compass, a symbol that she knew well from her father's maps.
To her keen eye, it looked like a star. Exactly like the one in the illuminated pages of her storybook.
"Into the darkest part of the forest, there you will see the marker," she whispered, quoting her favorite story from memory. She stared up at the rapidly darkening sky, ever mindful of her father's conditions. She'd already found the first sign. A surge of triumph wove through her veins, and she grinned, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
It's so easy, it's like someone wanted me to find them.
Her fingers ran over the small arrows, pointing ever deeper into the woods. She felt a flash of exhilaration; she was on the right track. "Follow the arrows, as it leads you to the path that grows ever darker," she continued, hopping across a small brook.
Hermione nearly fell into the icy water as she came close to losing her footing on the slick stones. She let out a panicked squeak as her arms windmilled for a moment, finally finding her balance and darting to the bank on the other side.
Careful.
She glanced at the path behind her, making her decision to continue on. A new feeling began to creep up on her, it was almost like being watched. She knew that there were all sorts of animals in the forest, but she didn't feel afraid. Pursing her lips, she started to walk, picking up a nearby stick with a wicked point.
Immediately, she felt better. The invasive feeling wasn't dangerous exactly, it didn't feel menacing, but the makeshift weapon made her feel better nonetheless. Her boots crunched in the snow, and she hopped a little more firmly, enjoying the crackling of her footsteps.
Humming, she stopped abruptly when she spotted what looked like a necklace hanging from a tree. She knew immediately what it was; a pagan charm to ward off evil, something that her village hung on trees all over. This one, however, was made from carved bone. The second sign.
A shudder of anticipation stuttered through her veins as she darted forwards. "Two of the signs are here, now where is the circle?"
She continued forwards, the cold seeping through the soles of her boots. She didn't pay her discomfort any mind.
The forest was so thick now that the light of the sun was very nearly snuffed out. She glanced upwards nervously as the wind made the trees sway, their ancient boughs creaking as they moved. She'd never been this far into the forest before. It just wasn't done, no one went this far unless they were a hunter, and even then they were wary of its hidden dangers.
She should have turned around. But she didn't.
Gathering her cloak around herself against the chill, she caught a flash of movement in her peripherals, spinning to look.
She was expecting a wolf, a bear, a deer, anything other than the tiny orbs of light that hung in the air. Transfixed, she took a step closer, ignoring her brain's attempts to assign reason to the lights. Suddenly, the twinkling lights took off, weaving glowing ribbons through the air, spinning and zooming around the trees.
There it was, the proof.
Hermione didn't think, she just followed them. Her lungs began to burn and her legs to cramp as she sprinted after the lights, running recklessly into the darkest part of the forest. She skidded to a stop in a clearing, where a trickle of the sun's light still shone. The lights had disappeared, and she turned round and round again, searching for her guides.
There was something different about this swath of forest. The trees seemed older, more alive somehow. Frozen moss clung to icy trunks and vines, making everything look like it had been dipped in tiny metal shards. It was like the trees were glowing, inviting her to walk farther away from the safety of the human world. Her mind spun, trying to make sense of where she was.
She didn't know what had come over her, the lights had been impossible to resist. She felt her stomach flip uncomfortably as she realized what she had done. She wasn't sure of the way out. She'd dropped her makeshift spear somewhere, and that only made her feel less secure.
I could go back. I should go back.
Taking a deep breath and trying to ease the ache in her lungs, she glanced behind her. Her relief was immediate; her path had left footprints in the snow. She could follow her trail back home.
A few more minutes can't hurt. I've come this far.
As if it could read her mind, one lone light winked back into her peripheral vision. Unconsciously, she took a step towards it. This one moved slowly, playfully, beckoning her to follow.
So she did. Stepping carefully, she followed the light a few feet forwards until her boot tapped against something hidden in the snow. Her brow furrowed, and she squatted ungracefully, not caring that her hem was soaking through with the snow.
She carefully brushed the snow off of a mushroom, bright red and spotted. Then another, and another, and another.
Hermione had found the last marker. A perfect circle of fungi that shouldn't have survived the frosts. She traced a path around the perimeter, uncovering the caps of the mushrooms as she went. She could almost taste her excitement.
But she wasn't finished yet. There was one more thing she had to try. Then she could return home, to the warmth and safety of the village. The signs of magic weren't enough.
She needed to see one. Then she would have her answer.
She knew in her bones that she was in the right place at the right time. The witches took midnight for their own, but the fairies were said to live in the hours between darkness and light, creatures that didn't owe their allegiance to the light or the dark.
Dredging up a measure of courage, she tried to dampen her excitement.
She began to sing softly, wracking her young brain for the lyrics of a tune that the village children sang when they played. Her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat and tried again.
"Trøllabundin eri eg eri eg
Galdramaður festi meg festi meg
Trøllabundin djúpt í míni sál í míni sál
Í hjartanum logar brennandi bál brennandi bál"
It was an ancient song, her father couldn't even tell her where it had come from. She stumbled over the pronunciation of several of the words; she was tongue-tied from the cold. The tune was melodious, she always felt drawn to it when she heard it sung. It reminded her of ancient drumbeats, of wild dancing and the full moon, of things she'd never heard but her ancestral blood remembered. The language was long gone from West Anglia, but she instinctively understood. It was a song of love and sorcery, something her ancestors would have delighted to hear.
"Trøllabundin eri eg eri eg
Galdramaður festi meg festi meg"
She darted a glance around the forest, unable to ignore the strangely warm wind that had started to blow, ruffling her hair and making her shiver. The shining trees seemed to dance in the fading light, and she felt a rush of something that she couldn't describe. Despite her instincts telling her to abandon the song and run, she wrapped her cloak around her arms and kept going.
"Trøllabundin inn í hjartarót í hjartarót
Eyga mítt festist har ið galdramaðurin stóð"
Her grandmother had warned her that the ancient songs weren't to be trifled with. She should have listened.
But nothing happened.
Hermione felt slightly stupid, standing alone in a rapidly darkening forest singing a song rumored to summon a sprite, but she continued, determined to finish what she'd started.
She finished the last stanza and waited. And waited. And waited, for what felt like an eternity.
The forest was silent, even the air seemed to be holding its breath. No more gusting wind, no chirping of birds, and certainly no magical creatures appearing after they'd been summoned.
It doesn't matter, nothing's happening anyways. Father was right-
"You got the words wrong."
The silence of the forest was shattered by the dry remark, and Hermione felt her back stiffen. She turned slowly, unsure what to expect from the creature who suddenly stood in the middle of the mushroom circle. He'd appeared out of nowhere, and he stood quietly, noiseless in the snow. Her own boots crunched in the ice as she pivoted, trying to get a good look at him. Her hair flew out behind her as she whirled, stopping suddenly when she saw him.
My God.
Her eyes darted over every inch of him, her fear was only kept at bay by her overwhelming curiosity. He laughed quietly, the sound of his voice sounded like molten silver, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.
"But you got the tune right," he continued quietly, inclining his head and watching her with impossibly grey eyes. His hair was so blond that it was almost white, and it shimmered in the dusky glow of the sunset. He wore a dark cloak, hemmed at his knees, and she saw that he didn't wear any shoes. His skin glittered, shining gently in the fading light; he was an otherworldly, ethereal creature.
"Y-you're real," she finally stammered, clutching her cloak around her. He eclipsed everything she'd ever heard about fairies, he was the most beautiful thing that she'd ever seen. "Who are you, where did you come from?"
"So many questions," he murmured, his expression unreadable. "My name isn't important."
"You don't want to give it to me," she breathed, struggling to remember. "It would let me control you-"
"Hardly." His eyes took in every detail of her face, his neutral expression made her nervous. She couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking about.
"Have you been watching me?" She whispered, still transfixed by his sudden appearance. "You sent the lights."
"No."
"Why did you come when I called?"
He didn't respond, simply watched her with ancient eyes. She suddenly felt self-conscious, a child in a too-large cloak and sodden shoes with wild, curly hair. Hardly a fair maiden or a dashing knight.
"There is an ancient law. I have no choice but to obey it," he finally said coldly, his eyes narrowing as he took in her amazement.
"What kind of law-"
He let out a short, impatient huff, interrupting her. "Get on with it, human."
She snapped her mouth closed and glared at him, her pride suddenly rearing its ugly head. "Get on with what?"
His lips twisted into a cruel sneer, and she felt a frisson of fear. "You summoned me, and you don't even know what you're supposed to do?"
"I didn't expect you to be real," she whispered, her hands unconsciously drawing her cloak more tightly around her. "I didn't plan for what would happen if you actually came."
"Let me make one thing clear," he said bitterly, his eyes darkening into a flinty silver. "If I wasn't bound to this circle I would have stopped your sorry little heart for disturbing me. Get on with it. What do you desire more than anything else?"
She swallowed nervously, her heart beating madly. Her brain wasn't fast enough to catch up to her mouth, and she found herself speaking before she could clamp her mouth shut.
"I want knowledge," she blurted out, a bright flush burning over her cheeks. "I want to know everything."
His dark smirk flustered her, and he shook his head slightly, his silver hair flashing in the fleeting light. "That's not specific enough. Try again, little girl."
She thought for a moment, her emotions a competing mixture of frustration and curiosity. "Fine, I want to be able to learn to do anything that I choose. And do it well," she added hastily, her mind whirring.
"Clever," he murmured, his eyes hadn't lost their hard edge. "Very well. I give you my oath, your wish is granted."
She let out a breath that she didn't realize that she'd been holding. "I could have wished for anything? So the stories were right."
"Yes, but you made your choice. Now you need to fulfill your end of the bargain."
She felt her blood run cold as he took a step towards her, his hand held out, palm towards her. "What?"
"There's always a price," he said, his tone deepening. "Magic never comes for free, now I get to choose what to take from you. It might hurt, but there's nothing I can do about that. Come here."
She felt adrenaline flooding into her veins as her knees threatened to give out. Whether she was paralyzed by fear or magic, she didn't know.
"W-wait!"
"Should I take your name, your blood, or your happiest memory?" He mused, moving ever closer. She felt her heartbeat thundering in her ears, and she tried to take a step backwards. Her body wouldn't obey her, and she started to panic.
"Or perhaps your first born child, humans give that away readily enough."
No!
"I don't have anything-"
"Oh, but you do. I think I'll take a piece of your soul, then. You can survive without it."
No, he can't! I wasn't told about this part of the deal, they're supposed to be benevolent! I didn't ask for a kingdom, or magic, or-
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you."
His voice softened, and she heard a gentle sound that threatened to lull her into a stupor, like tiny bells. She felt a fog descending over her mind as he beckoned to her, his voice so soothing that all she wanted to do was step into the circle and give him what he asked for-
"Hermione, step closer. It's all right-"
I never told him my name.
True fear took root in her chest, bitter and acidic in her veins. With a surge of strength, she forced herself back to reality by biting into her lip so hard that she tasted the iron tang of her blood.
"Take a step towards me," the creature insisted, his voice losing its hypnotic effect as his tone became rougher, a flicker of desperation marring the beauty of the sound.
"No!" She yelled hoarsely, breaking the spell. He stared at her, anger flaring on his handsome, eerie face as she turned and began to run, moving as quickly as her legs would take her.
She ran, feeling nothing but pure, animal panic as she sprinted through the trees, dashing through the undergrowth and following her path back to the village. She didn't look back as she heard an enraged scream from behind her, it only spurred her onwards, causing her to run faster and faster through the rapidly descending darkness.
She hurtled over the brook, her hair flying as she stumbled and fell, banging her chin against the frozen ground. Her adrenaline soothed the pain and she was off again, stopping only to tear the bone charm that had led her to the creature off the branch that held it. She threw it with all of her might, watching as it clattered down a distant ravine.
Trembling, she picked up the pace again, ignoring the pain in her protesting lungs and the blood that dripped from her chin. She ran for what felt like hours, finally reaching the outskirts of the forest and making for the soothing firelight that spilled out of her home.
Hermione skidded to a halt, she wrenched the front door open and darted inside. She threw the lock home with shaking hands and leaned against the door, frantically wiping tears from her face.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Her father strode to where she stood, slumped against the door frame. "What happened, did you fall?"
For a second, she contemplated telling her father about what she'd seen, what she'd done. But the words wouldn't come. She nodded instead, allowing her father to tow her to his surgery to get patched up.
She vowed never to return to the heart of the forest, to never read another story about the fairies ever again. She swore on her immortal soul that she would never again search for magic.
I never completed the deal, there's nothing to be afraid of.