Chapter 32 – The Night of Yel

The edge of the forest was blazing with firelight, like a rebellious spark of life shining in the middle of the darkness. Torches were planted everywhere in the ground, lanterns were hanging in the branches with garlands of dried flowers, candles were scattered everywhere on the tables; the numerous dancing flames banishing the shadows of the night and painting everything in a warm orange glow, beautiful and incandescent.

The air was charged with the magic of the night, the liminal time of year allowing for life and death to mingle together and dance, while the local land spirits drifted through the evening breeze and ruffled the autumn leaves. The veil between the world was thinning in the moonlight, and everyone could feel it.

Gathered at the edge of a forest less than a mile from the village, people stood vigil over small mounds of upturned earth, some fresh and some old, with young trees no more than two feet high planted over each one of them.

Graves.

The burials of those who had perished during the raid of the Blood Raiders, and those who did not survive the crossing of the Blind Mountains.

Everyone stood solemnly in the firelight, with rivers of grief thundering in their blood; the villagers from Denwood, the soldiers and civilians from Southampton, General Bennett and his men from Littleton.

Maeve watched the whole spectacle silently beside Leisa, Simon, Coop, Leo and Mark, with her chest feeling tight and heavy as families paid tribute to those they had lost, muttering a few words of farewell and gentle prayers, sharing fond memories of old times, and asking for blessing, guidance and protection from their loved ones on the other side of the veil.

A small ocean of people mourning in the orange glow of the numerous flames, most of whom she did not know yet, while others she had come to know quite well during the crossing of the Blind Mountains.

Robert Thomet stood over his wife's grave like a broken man, his jaw clenched so tight Maeve could almost feel his pain in her bones.

Peter and Lucas both shared a few words about their mother who had been slain by the Blood Raiders, speaking on behalf of their mourning father who was unable to form a single word.

Old Lobelia paid tribute to the many soldiers who had perished in the Blind Mountains during the Skinwalkers' attacks. Their graves were empty, the men's bodies reduced to ashes in the mountains, but trees would still grow in their honor as monuments to their sacrifices.

Robin and Cassidy bid farewell to their uncle, the sturdy farmer who had lost his life during the attack on the defenseless village, and Maeve found herself physically aching to touch and comfort him as Robin stood tensed like a pillar of stone.

On and on it went as the departed souls were properly remembered and honored in the night, all the victims from the raid in Denwood and from the deadly foes of the Blind Mountains, with offerings of food, drinks, flowers and personal tokens deposited over their graves so their spirits could come and walk amongst the living once more, like ghosts returning home.

The mood slowly shifted in the darkness after that, like the morning tide that gently sweeps the ships at sea, lifting the heavy weight of grief to make place for celebration, mourning and feasting blending together like watercolors.

Maeve had no words to describe the heartwarming feeling of finally listening to laughter instead of screams, of beholding smiles instead of tears, of watching people mingle together in dresses and clean clothes instead of being covered in mud and blood, dancing and singing in the flickering flames of the torches and the shifting shadows of the night.

Music rang in the air with flutes and drums, the beats resonating in the earth beneath her feet, while smoke from incense drifted on the breeze with the scents of juniper, rosemary and sandalwood. Women decorated themselves with dried flowers and small bones, tucking stems and twigs in their hair and in their clothes, while a few men adorned their heads with deer's skulls and antlers, chasing children around the edge of the forest to play tag.

The Night of Yel was a carnival of death, dark and spooky, but the air thrummed with what it meant to be alive, with the full moon and the stars shining down upon them all like distant guardian spirits.

It made her feel nostalgic, reminding her of her homeland traditions of lighting candles and bonfires for the dead to remember and honor them, asking them for guidance and protection in exchange for offerings of all kinds, coins, flowers, shells, feathers…It felt like another lifetime now, back when she was still a farmer's daughter and everything was so simple. No magic, no war, no prophecy…

Her heart clenched in her chest at the memories, her fingers absent-mindedly picking at the red bandana around her wrist, carefully hidden under the sleeve of her dress.

A lovely shade of black and green, Cassidy and her friend Tess had kindly put it together for her, with long sleeves, an oval neckline and a fitted waist, which Maeve had initially declined, insisting she did not want any special treatment and could simply wear her outfit from the crossing. Despite their gentle and polite attempts to convince her that it was no trouble at all, the two women had unfortunately been no match for her stubbornness, that is until Leisa had finally swooped in to scold her like an ungrateful child. 'Would you just wear the damn dress?'.

Maeve had firmly argued back, but had quickly yielded when the Radakeel threatened to add a golden crown to complete the look, which had been purely sarcastic, but still pretty effective to convince her to wear the garment.

Thus, here she was, clad in a simple yet beautiful dark dress and sitting across the warrior woman as they both sipped ale and watched the celebration unfold around them, content to just observe the crowd of people instead of actively partaking in the lively festivities. Maeve had made it her mission for the night to stick to the Radakeel, hoping Leisa's grim countenance would deter anyone from coming anywhere near them.

She was in no mood to entertain polite chit-chat and answer the same questions over and over again about her identity and her motives. It was already more than enough to endure the loaded stares of the people around her, whom she could often see pointing in her direction whilst they whispered lowly amongst themselves, the words Fire Maiden falling from their lips and echoing in the night, like a prayer and a curse at the same time.

At least everyone seemed to respect her wish for space, carefully steering clear of her and Leisa's table like someone cautiously circles around the cage of a dangerous animal. It made her wonder if perhaps she was projecting the wrong image, instilling fear and doubt instead of exuding trust and safety, but for some reason she found she could not care less at the moment. Right now, she just wanted to be left alone, and drink until she couldn't feel anything at all.

But there was at least one person who was not intimidated by her or the Radakeel, and whose curiosity and status compelled him to approach their table to get some answers.

"I believe you owe me a story, my dear," General Bennett declared in the firelight, the ends of his peppery mustache curling upwards as he smiled. "I want to know everything that happened since you arrived in Kalladrell."

He sat next to Leisa on the wooden bench, facing her across the table with a cup of ale in his hand and looking genuinely intrigued by who she was, his dark eyes boring straight into hers. His presence was commanding and almost intimidating, and Maeve momentarily found herself at a loss for words, not knowing where to begin and what to say as fractured images of the storm flashed in her mind with lighting and thunder.

"I found her in the woods outside Southampton."

She felt the warm weight of Robin's palm between her shoulder blades as he spoke from behind her, joining them for the conversation and seating himself beside her on the bench. Grateful for his soothing presence, her eyes briefly locked with his in the golden glow of the night as wordless memories seemed to pass between them, and he gave her a small reassuring smile before taking the lead and telling General Bennett the tale of how she had arrived in Kalladrell and embarked on the perilous crossing of the Blind Mountains.

He told the story just as it was, simple and down to the facts, respecting the privacy of the more personal things she had confided in him, while she complemented along the way when needed and answered General Bennett's questions as they arose, the old soldier quietly listening to everything that was said.

They spoke of Dim-Dim, her mentor who had sent her here to protect Jacob, and who had apparently once been a part of the Central Council in Erindale according to Wizards George and Adam in Southampton, something Maeve had initially been completely oblivious of, just like the prophecy of the Fire Maiden which she had heard for the first time when Leo had recited it deep in the mountains, all the signs pointing towards her.

They spoke of her magical abilities and how she had managed to protect and save two thirds of the convoy in the deadly woods, which prompted Leisa to speak up to expose how stubborn and reckless she had been and how those traits would prove a nuisance in the middle of a battlefield, while Robin argued otherwise on her behalf.

They spoke of the prophecy and what it meant, carefully brushing over her role as Fire Maiden and Queen without stating any obligations whatsoever, and Maeve suspected that Robin had already warned General Bennett not to delve deeper on the matter, probably assuring him that she had at least promised to help them against the Blood Raiders, which was enough for the time being.

As General Bennett intently listened to everything, Maeve was also able to familiarize herself with the older officer; a man of the people, who had served in the army all his life to protect those who needed it. A good listener, patient and observant, his little dark eyes never seemed to miss anything, and his sharp mind seemed to carefully pick apart every bit of information presented to him, like the pieces of a big puzzle he could dissect and reassemble as he wished.

When Maeve informed him of the latest details which she had disclosed to Robin earlier that day on the beach, his bushy brow furrowed deeply.

"A Djin Lord and a Belrok?" he echoed gravely, his dark gaze glinting in the firelight just like Leisa's, who was sitting beside him like a grim statue. "You're sure about this?"

Maeve nodded. "That's what my mentor told me before sending me here."

General Bennett sat back in his seat, scratching at his chin with a weary hand. "I'll have to pen a letter to the Central Council to warn them, although if your mentor was once one of them, then perhaps they already know about this, too."

Maeve felt the sting of resentment towards Dim-Dim swell in her blood once more, but she quickly pushed it down and focused on the present matters. "Do you know who the Djin Lord might be?"

"I can't be sure," General Bennett shook his head in thought. "But from what I've heard, Commander Sarkin seems to be quite proficient in the use of dark magic, as demonstrated by his brutal methods of torture on defenseless people."

Maeve shivered in her seat, recalling Robert's tale of the poor young lass whose bones were broken one by one during the Blood Raiders' attack on the village.

"What about the King?" Robin asked, tensed and serious.

"King Zankar is…something else," General Bennett responded somberly. "I'm no wizard, but I believe the powers he can wield are beyond the scope of what even the Elders of the Council can comprehend."

"Wonderful," Leisa snarled sarcastically, voicing what they were all inwardly thinking while drums and flutes rang in the night obliviously, shrouding the celebrating people in cheerful music.

"Do you remember anything about a Belrok from the Dark Wars?" Robin pressed again, attempting to shed some light on another one of their upcoming foes.

General Bennett paused for a moment, as if he was dusting off the corners of his mind for scraps of distant memories, from when he'd been taught about those ancient legends. "I believe one was raised during that time, yes, but I could not begin to tell you where exactly on the island such an event took place, nor how the creature was defeated. However, Erindale's library will certainly have the answer, if not the Wizards themselves."

They all fell silent at that, letting the information sink in and their minds soar in every direction, until Robin spoke again with concern. "Tell her what you told me about the rebellions taking place in Tyross."

General Bennett took a sip from his ale and retrieved a roll of parchment tucked in one of the pockets of his leather jacket. "Our spies from Erindale have reported that the Blood Raiders have turned their attention inland for some time. The rumors have it that pockets of rebellion have been multiplying amongst the Tyrossi, thus affecting their food supplies." He spread the parchment on the table in front of them, revealing a rudimentary map of both Kalladrell and Tyross, both islands linked together by the infamous long stone bridge of the Han's Pass. "An army as vast as theirs needs to eat, so they're slowly starving the land and its people, especially around the capitol and further east." He pointed to a city on the map, nearly in the center of the island, and Maeve craned her neck to read the name Tarresso, east of which appeared to be a collection of smaller villages.

"If the Blood Raiders' attention is diverted, shouldn't we seize this occasion to strike?" she pondered out loud. "Attack them when they will least expect it?"

General Bennett smiled, cunning and cautious at the same time. "I'm all for the element of surprise, my dear, but we have no way of crossing the Han, and marching our armies all the way North to cross over the Han's Pass is a suicide mission."

"So Kalladrell is just standing by," she replied with a frown, consternation slowly seeping into her voice, "doing nothing while the Tyrossi people are being crushed and enslaved by those brutes?"

"We're working on that," the old soldier assured her calmly, moving the tip of his finger to the north of the map. "The Isle of Corthas has ships we could use, and the Central Council is pushing for negotiations as we speak, trying to forge some form of alliance against King Zankar."

"Sounds useless to me," Leisa sneered beside the old soldier, wrinkling her nose in disdain. "King Darian only ever served himself. He'll never ally to a cause if the risks outweigh the benefits. He'll side with the bigger player, and in this case, it's not us."

"Perhaps," General Bennett conceded. "But if King Zankar decides to conquer his kingdom once he's done with Tyross and Kalladrell, that might persuade him to side with us sooner rather than later."

Leisa didn't seem convinced at all, while Maeve allowed her gaze to surf on the map before her, trying to engrave every possible detail into her brain while Robin shifted on his seat beside her.

"There's more," he declared, blue eyes taking on a darker, troubled shade as he retrieved something from his jacket as well. "We found this around a Skinwalker's neck."

He placed the leather collar on the table, and Maeve felt an icy chill travel down her spine at the sight of it, or rather at the memory it brought back.

"A collar?" General Bennett lifted it in his hand in puzzlement.

"Worse," Robin replied gravely. "There was a Dallion hidden beneath it."

At his grim words, the two men's gazes locked in unspoken understanding, heavy with dismay, while Maeve felt the tension pulse from Robin's body beside her.

"Any sightings of Skinwalkers outside the mountains?" he asked, keeping his voice low so no one outside their table would hear about such worrying suppositions.

"No. Not that I have heard of," General Bennett shook his head, his features creased with concern as he tried to process such troubling news. "This is very disturbing, to say the least."

"Well," Leisa smirked. "If their plan is to subdue these monsters and use them against us on the battlefield, they won't have much of an army." She tilted her chin in Maeve's direction. "She roasted them all."

"The Blind Mountains are vast," Robin cautioned. "There might still be hundreds of Skinwalkers in there. We don't know-"

"GIVE THEM BACK!"

The four of them startled in their seats, Leisa shooting straight to her feet while Robin did the same and pressed a protective hand to Maeve's back, ready to parry any form of attack while Mark, Leo and Coop rushed to their table animatedly.

"GIVE THEM BACK RIGHT NOW! LEISA, TELL THEM!" Mark shouted frantically, the tall bulky soldier visibly distraught and holding his head between his hands, his typical deep voice and sturdy composure completely falling apart while Coop and Leo giggled like children, barely able to breathe.

"What is going on?" Robin demanded, frowning at the whole commotion.

"STOP LAUGHING!" Mark desperately pleaded to his two companions before turning to Leisa for help, his half tied-up blond hair in disarray. "TELL THEM TO GIVE THEM BACK, LEISA!"

"What are you talking about?" The Radakeel glowered in annoyance, failing to see what was so funny about the whole situation while Coop and Leo continued to laugh uncontrollably.

"THEY STOLE MY EARS!" Mark cried out, removing his hands from his head to point at said ears, which were still clearly visible and well attached to his head.

Robin, Maeve and Leisa blinked at each other, utterly confused and clueless about what was wrong with the usually calm and imposing soldier, until Robin finally seemed to grasp the situation and anchored a stern scowl on Coop and Leo. "What the hell did you give him?"

The two men continued to laugh like drunk hyenas, with tears in their eyes as they struggled to catch their breath.

"Just a little bit of mushbloom," Coop finally managed to speak through fragmented giggles. "Olivia had a fresh batch."

"ROBIN, PLEASE! TELL THEM TO GIVE THEM BACK!" Mark pleaded once more, his green eyes wide with distress as Leisa firmly tugged him by the collar to sit him down on the bench.

"Sit down," she instructed sharply. "You're going to be fine."

"BUT HOW WILL I BE ABLE TO HEAR?" he cried out again, high as a kite.

"You're hearing me right now, you idiot," Leisa hissed before glaring at Coop and Leo across the table, the two soldiers comically trying to suppress their laughter while Robin pinched the bridge of his nose with a grumble.

"Would you please give him back his ears?" he demanded, looking like he could not quite believe that he was actually asking them such a thing.

"Alright, alright," Leo yielded, raising his hands up in defeat as he approached Mark and simply pressed his palms over the bulky soldier's ears.

"Oh thank the spirits!" Mark breathed in boundless gratitude, as if his very soul had just been returned to him. "Thank you!"

Chuckling at the entire scene, General Bennett rose from his seat. "I think that's enough serious talk for tonight," he declared with a mischievous smile, his gentle dark eyes wrinkling at the corners. "You all had it rough in the past month. Enjoy the night!"

He patted Robin on the back and then faded into the crowd of festivities, his departure soon replaced by the arrival of Simon, Cassidy and Ella, the little girl happily hopping towards their table in her bright yellow dress.

"I made this for you, Leisa!" she beamed, a crown of dried flowers in her tiny hands, just like the one sitting on her head of curly blond hair.

Leisa froze where she stood, blinking in confusion before awkwardly accepting the child's gift and glaring at Simon and his wife, suspecting the pale-skinned soldier had probably deliberately told his daughter to give her the corny headpiece, because he knew she would have no choice but to accept it and wear it.

"Thank you," she muttered in a low breath, forcing a smile on her stern face before reluctantly placing the flowers on top of her head.

Maeve stifled a laugh at the sight, profoundly satisfied to see the Radakeel cornered and uncomfortable for once, while Simon extended a hand towards her to give her a small mug of golden liquid.

"It's not a pint like you wanted," he said proudly, "but it is whisky."

"Are you serious?" Maeve gasped in surprise as she rose from her seat, remembering what she had said deep in the mountains many days ago about the first thing she would eat or drink once they made it to the other side. "Thank you!"

She took a sip, welcoming the strong taste that nearly scorched her mouth, before Coop happily chimed in.

"Anyone up for a dance?" he asked enthusiastically, leveling his dark eyes on her. "Maeve?"

She shook her head, swallowing another sip of whisky. "I'll pass."

"Oh come on, one dance!" He insisted, trying to goad her into the activity with his foreign, sultry voice. "One dance with the Fire Maiden of Kalladrell!"

"Coop, if you call me that again, I swear I'm going to strangle you," she glowered at him over the rim of her mug, earning herself a few chuckles from the others.

"I'll die happy," Coop grinned, before Leisa wacked him on the arm.

"Why don't you watch over Mark instead," she scolded him. "He just discovered he can hear food."

They all looked back to the table, watching as poor Mark held a pear to his ear, laughing on his own with his eyes glazed over, the mushbloom still kicking strong.

Coop and Leo burst out laughing before joining their companion in his little delirious world.

"He needs water more than he needs these two," Robin observed with concern, his blue eyes already scanning the crowd in search of said liquid before he went to the nearest table.

"Speaking of watching over someone," Cassidy began innocently, her voice mellow as she stepped over to Leisa. "Could you watch Ella for five minutes? I haven't danced with my husband in far too long."

"Wha-"

"Thank you!"

The Radakeel barely had time to blink before the blonde trotted away with her husband, her long hair sweeping down her back and flickering like gold in the firelight, while Ella awkwardly stood next to the warrior woman like the most absurd duo, the ruthless fighter clad in black leathers and the little girl in a sunflower dress.

"What's mushbloom?" Ella asked, looking up at Leisa with curious blue eyes.

Maeve bit her lips not to laugh, the sight of the Radakeel being stuck on babysitting duty too much to bear, and it was the perfect opportunity to slip away from her radar, the whisky suddenly making her bold enough to wade through the festive crowd on her own.

The torches and lanterns were still blazing in the darkness, painting everything in hues of copper and gold while the people ate and drank, some seated at tables, while others leisurely sat on the ground by the graves of their loved ones, keeping an eye on the children who hopped and giggled under the starlight, chasing each other like little ghosts with garlands of bones and dried flowers.

The music still echoed loudly in the darkness, with beating drums and flutes blending in jolly tunes that resonated deep into the earth, the lively notes wafting through the air like smoking incense while the people danced in the firelight.

Wandering the festivities aimlessly, it almost felt like walking through a spooky dream, with faces dancing before her eyes like strangers, but Maeve could at least recognize some of those faces, stopping every once in a while to exchange a few words with the soldiers and civilians from Southampton whom she had come to know quite well by now, her heart swelling with warmth at the sight of them so happy and carefree now that they were reunited with their families, as opposed to battered and terrified in the deadly shadows of the mountains.

But it appeared her own nerves were still raw and shaky from that frightening ordeal, because little Rose and Sam nearly made her jump out of her skin when they rushed to her in the torchlight to say hi and steal hugs from her, clutching at her legs with giggles. Ally and David soon came trotting after them, the young couple flushed and out of breath from dancing, and they tentatively seized the opportunity to introduce her to the woman's mother, who repeatedly thanked her for saving the lives of her grandchildren in the mountains while Maeve gently hugged her in return.

Their little group grew even larger after that as Peter and Lucas timidly approached her as well, the two long-haired brothers carefully leading their father by the arms.

"My sons told me what you did for them in the mountains," the weary farmer stuttered, his lips trembling and his voice thick with emotion as he struggled to speak, his blind eyes surfing aimlessly on her face but still brimming with tears. "Thank you. Thank you for bringing them home."

Maeve felt a poignant rush of feelings hit her square in the chest at the sight of him, her own eyes burning with tears as she gathered the poor old man in her arms, assuring him she would save his brave sons all over again if she had to, and that she wished she could have been there the day of the attack to save his wife from the Blood Raiders as well.

After he warmly thanked her again, she exchanged brief hugs with Peter and Lucas, then barely had time to watch them retreat in the small crowd as other people timidly approached her too, some that she knew from Southampton, and others that she did not know, villagers from Denwood and soldiers from Littleton. She did her best to speak with all of them, smiling politely and squeezing hands as she listened to their kind words, despite the knot of anguish that coiled tighter in her chest with every passing moment.

It all felt surreal to be the center of such attention, receiving thanks and blessings from strangers she did not know, and the impostor syndrome soon threatened to rip her apart in the firelight, but after some time the last of the people dissipated in the night and she was alone once more, her mind spinning like a sparrow caught in a gust of wind.

The flutes and the drums continued to echo around the forest's edge as she resumed her aimless stroll, her feet guiding her through the graves while she sipped whisky and watched as the flames from the torches illuminated the small trees that had been planted over each of them. After a while, the strong liquid pooled somewhere in the middle of her chest, serving to numb the tension in her body and blur her senses in a pleasant way.

Until she stopped at Jacob's grave.

At the sight of it, her blood abruptly filled with a painful combination of grief, despair and guilt as she watched the small lone candle flicker beside the young tree planted in the earth.

She had failed him.

Failed in her mission to save and protect him before it was too late. Before death could claim him along with the answers she desperately sought.

She felt the anger nibble at her bones as she remembered the cursed, faulty travel vial that had caused everything to go astray. If only it had worked properly, she thought wistfully, how different things would have been if she had landed when and where she was supposed to…

She knelt by his grave, pressing a palm over the freshly upturned earth. "I'm sorry I was too late," she murmured sadly, offering his spirit a small prayer. "May the road rise up to meet you, wherever you are going…until we meet again."

Then she sat by his grave and drank, her mood slowly sliding into a state of morose brooding as she watched the Night of Yel at the edge of the forest, laughter and music filling the liminal space under the moonlight while the scent of juniper, rosemary and sandalwood coated the air.

Unable to find any real purchase, her cloudy mind pointlessly flitted from one thought to the next while her fingers toyed with the red bandana around her wrist, hidden beneath the sleeve of her dress, like an invitation for memories to wash over her like a wave.

She remembered the last time she had worn a dress…

A red one.

At the festival of Bakar.

It was a treacherous place to wander back to, but before she could stop her wounded heart from latching onto the memory, it flooded her mind like a storm, longing crawling into her blood like a curse.

She could remember everything about that night, down to the tiniest, ridiculous detail. The soft notes of the fiddle and the harp as the Skye Boat Song filled the air, the look on Sinbad's face as he asked her to dance in front of everyone in the courtyard, perfectly calm and composed as if nothing else in the entire world mattered, his palm pressing against the small of her back while they danced, holding her close while the heat of him burned through the fabric of her dress, his husky voice thrumming intimately in her ear…

His stupid new outfit...

She could remember that all too well, and certainly more than she cared to admit. Scandalous and improper and shocking and undeniably attractive…It had awakened feral things in her blood that she had long thought herself capable of tempering down. But dressed like that, he had made it extremely difficult to do so.

And he had known

Wikken Hells, she was certain he had known what he was doing to her, cleverly poking at the possessive, jealous side of her, and rousing a dormant part of her that she usually kept well guarded.

But still, as perfect as the night had been, it had not been enough to break her formidable shield.

When the summer rain had poured down over them unexpectedly, she had hurriedly pulled him with her to hide under the tall colonnades encircling the courtyard, and she had stubbornly ignored the storm of heat that roared in her blood, painfully resisting the feral yearning in her core that begged her to pull him deeper into one of the many hallways that branched out between the columns, to steer him away from the cluster of people who had rushed to take cover from the rain as well, away from the crew, away from prying eyes…to lead him somewhere in a secluded passageway where she could kiss him senseless, finally heeding the call of the formidable longing that was ripping her apart as well as the one she'd seen shining in his beautiful blue eyes all evening, as he patiently waited for her to give him a sign and finally yield.

She should have kissed him that night, branding him as her own.

But she never did, fear and cowardice instead rooting her in place in his arms as they watched the summer rain pour down over the world. Until another storm came and ripped her away for good, no more than five days later…

She closed her eyes painfully, cursing herself a thousand times over as she wished she could somehow turn back time, even if she knew that was impossible. Instead, she downed the last of her whisky with the hope that it would wash away the tragic memory, right when someone unexpectedly tossed a small, round object in her direction, startling her where she sat.

"He loved apples," a voice called out from the shadows.

Picking up the fruit, Maeve's eyes focused on the approaching silhouette of a young woman with a sweeping side bang on her forehead, the rest of her short brown hair tucked in place by a tawny scarf. Her eyes were as dark as her dress, painted with kohl and brimming with knowledge, and a small bone hung from a long chain around her neck.

When she stopped on the other side of Jacob's grave, Maeve finally understood what the apple was for; an offering to the dead. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied with a knowing smile as she knelt, holding out a tiny piece of folded parchment to the flame of the small candle. "He'll be happy to know we planted an apple tree in his honour."

Maeve watched as the edges of the parchment curled and burned on the earth, the bluish flames quickly engulfing the material until smoke puffed in the air and ashes were all that remained. What had been written on it, she did not know, but her best guess was some sort of prayer or blessing.

As the woman gently blended the remnants of the parchment in the soil with her hand, Maeve suddenly realized she knew next to nothing of the man buried beneath her. "Did he spend his life here in Denwood?" she asked, uttering the first question that popped inside her head.

"No," the brunette responded. "He only arrived about a year ago, from Erindale. He said he needed to be here."

Maeve almost rolled her eyes, perfectly capable of imagining the old prophet saying those cryptic words when he first arrived in the small village, patiently waiting for a prophecy to come forth as well as the Queen attached to it. "Of course, he did," she muttered lowly under her breath.

The other woman regarded her curiously for a moment, before extending her hand over the grave to introduce herself. "Olivia."

Maeve took her hand to shake it and instantly recognized the name. "Ah, the mushbloom provider."

"Aye…" the brunette winced slightly, casting her eyes down. "We might have given Mark a tad too much. He'll be fine, though."

"You're Lobelia's granddaughter, aren't you?" Maeve watched her closely, remembering when the old healer had lovingly embraced the young woman when the convoy had finally arrived in Denwood earlier that day.

"I am," Olivia nodded with a proud smile, her red lips curling upwards before her features turned pensive with reverence. "She said you saved them all in the mountains, conjuring a storm of fire against the Skinwalkers and boiling the Kawasseas alive."

Maeve averted her gaze to the ground, the terrible battles still frighteningly fresh in her memories. "I did what I could."

When she looked back up at the brunette, the woman's dark eyes were glinting in a secretive way. "The Fire of Erin flows in your veins," she stated enigmatically, her voice steady and clear.

"So I hear," Maeve replied with a sigh, exhaustion seeping into her tone as she felt the weight of the Fire Maiden prophecy lurk above her head like an invisible crown.

"You should tell him to wait," Olivia declared, abruptly changing the subject as she rose to her feet and glanced down at Jacob's grave. "Tell him to stay in the City of Candles for a while."

Maeve blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "The City of Candles?"

But Olivia merely winked at her, "I'll show you someday," and she retreated into the crowd, vanishing like a shadow as quickly as she had appeared.

Still frowning in puzzlement over their brief peculiar exchange, Maeve found herself searching the corners of her mind for the place she had mentioned, wondering if she had ever heard of it before and if it was even a real place, but unfortunately her brain remained blank on the matter.

She craned her neck to glance around, but there was simply no trace of Olivia, the young woman no where to be found, and while Maeve had not discerned any trace of arcane magic coming off from the brunette, she nonetheless suspected that Lobelia's granddaughter knew a thing or two about folk magic. Which was a subject she would surely get to discuss with her sometime in the near future, while the village of Denwood underwent the repairs it needed.

Rubbing at her eyes with weary fingers, Maeve allowed her mind to lazily drift off once again, and after all the new people she had met tonight like a carousel of strangers, this time it easily found purchase on the crew which she missed dearly, and probably more than she cared to admit.

What she wouldn't give to hear Doubar's belly laughter rumble in the night, or watch as Rongar played with the children, chasing them amidst the torches and the trees, or listen to Firouz as he showered the villagers with genuine questions about their culture and their knowledge. What she wouldn't give to see her brother dance in the moonlight, free at last from the curse that bound him.

What she wouldn't give to glance into a pair of sea-blue eyes and-

A hand holding a mug suddenly appeared in front of her face, a gift from someone behind her. She took the drink with a quizzical frown, while Robin circled around to sit on the other side of Jacob's grave, settling down comfortably with his forearms resting on his knees.

"It's ginger tea," he informed her with a smile, stealing a glance at her empty cup of whisky. "You'll thank me tomorrow."

Maeve returned his smile, lifting the mug to her nose to smell the warm and spicy aroma. "Thank you."

He gave her a few seconds to taste the hot drink, but he didn't remain silent for long. "For someone who didn't want to be the center of attention and acknowledge the prophecy of the Fire Maiden, you certainly did a good job at playing the part."

He was teasing her, she realized, referring to the moment earlier in the night when people had flocked to her side like sheep to their shepherd, to present her with their family members and offer her special thanks and blessings, for the queen they believed her to be.

"It was worth it," she replied softly, remembering the look on everyone's grateful faces as she either squeezed their hands or hugged them, watching them smile and brush tears away while they cherished the loved ones she had managed to protect in the Blind Mountains.

It had all been worth it, even though she still felt profoundly inadequate for the role they expected her to fill.

"You alright?" Robin's voice drifted in the air, painted with concern as she stared ahead aimlessly, lost in her thoughts.

"Aye," she nodded, trying to shake herself out of her brooding mood. "Just getting sleepy."

"You'll get to sleep in a real bed," he revealed. "The villagers spared a room for you in The Golden Goose."

Maeve groaned in objection. "Robin, I told you I didn't want any special treatment. I don't-"

Robin held up a hand before she could protest some more. "I know, but General Bennett insisted you should have your own room instead of sleeping in the soldiers' encampment, which he doesn't see fit for a lady. I told him you were anything but a lady but that didn't-"

"Very funny."

"You'll be more comfortable in the inn than in a tent in the middle of a bunch of snoring men."

Maeve chuckled at his words. "I've spent a year onboard a ship with a bunch of snoring men," she pointed out amusingly, remembering Doubar's thunderous signature snore, which had quickly become strangely comforting over time. "I don't mind sleeping in close quarters."

But Robin would hear none of it. "If you don't do it for me, then do it for Leisa. She'll be sleeping there too."

Maeve held his gaze in wordless disagreement, but rapidly yielded. "Fine."

She took another sip of the ginger tea and they both fell quiet, his presence soothing and comforting in the torchlight, while her mind drifted back to the very first moment they had met, that day in the forest outside of Southampton, which felt like a lifetime ago. He had been nothing but a stranger back then, but he was no stranger now. Not anymore.

"What were you doing in the forest?" she asked him out of the blue, her strange question puzzling him as a small frown creased his brow in the firelight. "When you found me in the woods near Southampton, what were you doing there in the first place?"

Understanding what she meant, he smiled at her, sweet and gentle, before averting his gaze to the festive people still celebrating the Night of Yel close by, although the magic in the air was beginning to dim as it was well past midnight, judging by the full moon's journey across the clear sky.

"If there's one thing I share with my sister, it's my love for horses," he responded after a few moments, leveling his gaze back on her. "With the crossing of the Blind Mountains approaching, I needed to escape for an hour or two, just to clear my head, and there's nothing like racing against the wind to forget you might die in the next couple of weeks." His brow furrowed a bit then, as if an unpleasant memory was trying to wedge itself inside his head. "I almost didn't go…" he murmured hauntingly. "There was still so much to prepare, so much to do…But at the last minute I just hopped on my horse and raced out of the city." He explained, unable to truly put into words what had made him change his mind that day. "I was about to turn back when I heard a commotion in the trees. That's when I saw you."

His blue eyes locked with hers in the golden glow of the torchlight, heavy and loaded with so many different emotions it was almost too much for her to process at once, but she steadily held the weight of his gaze in the shifting shadows of the night, remembering the first time she had look into his eyes all those weeks ago, back when she had held a blade to his face and begrudgingly decided to trust him, taking a leap of faith.

"I'm glad you decided to go," she murmured softly, genuinely grateful for everything he had done for her, which ranged from feeding her, gifting her a new outfit, offering her room and board, to plucking her out of nightmares and saving her life multiple times in the Blind Mountains at the risk of his own.

"So am I," he answered lowly, his arresting features etched with protectiveness, while his eyes shone with something that made her pulse race beneath her flesh.

The air seemed to thicken between them, like a palpable shift in the wind before the arrival of a downpour, but it was abruptly shattered by Ella's excited voice, the little girl happily hopping towards them in her bright yellow dress.

"Look!" she exclaimed before crashing into her uncle, her little arms wrapping around his neck from behind as she leaned into him. "Leisa braided my hair!"

Breaking eye contact at last, Robin snaked an arm behind him to tug at her niece and bring her around to face him so he could appraise the work of art in her hair. "Did she, now?" His eyes widened at the sight of all the tiny braids in Ella's blond curls. "Wow!"

Maeve grinned like a pumpkin at the two of them, until she spotted Leisa approaching from the shadows like a panther, the Radakeel's stern features stamped with a glaring warning look not to utter any comment on what she had done.

Maeve immediately bit her lips to suppress her laughter, but Robin was not so deterred by the warrior's glower.

"I always knew you had a few maternal bones hiding somewhere beneath all that leather," he jested, only to be on the receiving end of Leisa's silver tongue.

"If you don't want to lose your paternal appendage, I suggest you stop talking right now," she hissed between her teeth, causing Robin to both blush and blanch at the same time, if that was even possible.

The Radakeel then lowered herself down to sit beside Maeve, while Ella grew quiet beside Robin, looking awkward and shy as she leaned into her uncle and chewed on her lower lip.

Maeve could feel the young girl was watching her with curious appraisal, so she smiled at her in kind. "I'm Maeve," she introduced herself formally, stretching one hand forward for good measure, even if she already knew the girl's name.

"I'm Ella," the child replied in a tiny voice, extending a small timid hand to shake hers while her other arm remained wrapped around Robin's neck for purchase and familiarity.

"It's nice to meet you, Ella," she beamed, shaking the little girl's hand before releasing it, while Ella blushed and shrunk against Robin's side, still visibly shy and nervous.

But Robin whispered something in her ear and there was an immediate spark in his niece's blue eyes in the firelight.

"Can I braid your hair?" Ella asked her, still timid yet suddenly emboldened at the same time.

Maeve's gaze flicked to Robin briefly, a wordless exchange passing between them, before she smiled at the little girl. "I'd love that."

Ella happily left her uncle's side and circled around Jacob's grave, stopping right at Maeve's back so her tiny fingers could play in her red curls, raking and brushing them under the golden light of the torches.

When Maeve met Robin's gaze again, watching him as he watched her, with his niece braiding her hair, there was something buried in the depth of his blue eyes that made her heart swell inside her chest and her blood surge with warmth, the tension slowly coalescing between them again, but she quickly looked away when she caught sight of Coop and Leo approaching them, the two men supporting Mark on either side, with Simon and Cassidy right at their heels.

The tall bulky soldier looked as pale as a ghost, as if he'd just been sick, and when his comrades lowered him down beside Leisa, the man groaned in discomfort.

"Can someone please make the world stop spinning?" he grumbled under his breath, before lying down on his back and resting his head in Leisa's lap. "I'm never doing mushbloom again."

Coop snorted as he sat down with Leo at the foot of Jacob's grave. "You said that the last time."

"Last time I just passed out for twelve hours," Mark argued with his eyes closed as he squeezed his temples between his thumb and middle finger. "I didn't lose my ears and I certainly didn't have a full-blown conversation with a pear."

His companions chuckled at the memory of the soldier high as a kite, while Cassidy crouched down beside him to press a cold cloth to the man's forehead. "Here, this should help."

"Thanks," Mark replied, while Leisa held the cloth in place without a word, an affectionate display which Maeve found strange and bewildering coming from the ruthless Radakeel, but she chose not to comment on it, at least for now.

"You forgot to mention the part where you could see people as animals," Simon added, referring to another one of the soldier's hallucinations from the mushbloom.

"Wikken Hells," Mark cursed under his breath as he seemed to remember that particular delirium.

"Oh right! You were a bear, I was a bobcat," Leo began with a chuckle, recalling his friend's delusions. "Coop was a fox, Simon was an eagle, Robin was a lion, Leisa was a panther, and Maeve was…" he paused hesitantly, holding his breath for a moment as he bit his lips with a wince. "A puffer fish."

Everyone fell silent, sparing a few seconds to properly register what the young soldier had just said, before they all shut their mouths to suppress their laughter.

"Excuse me?" Maeve blinked, confused and mildly offended.

"It was the mushbloom," Mark groaned, his eyes still closed as he tried to defend himself, while Leisa came to his rescue.

"Makes sense," she declared with a smirk. "You quickly react with emotions, and then quickly deflate when someone knocks some sense into you. Although, I don't think a puffer fish is as stubborn as you are."

Maeve rolled her eyes at the Radakeel, subtly trying to mend her dented pride while Cassidy frowned in puzzlement.

"So, everyone is a noble, deadly predator, but the Queen who can literally wield fire is a puffer fish?" she asked, overtly confused by the results of Mark's totemic delirium.

"I like it," Robin smirked across Jacob's grave, tossing her a teasing look. "Puffer fish."

"I think I preferred 'Your Grace'," Maeve retorqued dryly, while the others chuckled in the firelight.

It was strange to see them all gathered like this, laughing and smiling, light-hearted and carefree, after all the terrible ordeals they had suffered through in the Blind Mountains, not to mention all the battles they had yet to face in the near future with the threat of the Blood Raiders lurking on the horizon.

And as they all sat together in the moonlight, Maeve wondered if it was a bad omen for a grave to stand in the middle of their group, an unpleasant shiver running down her spine as the gloomy thought crossed her mind, as superstitious as it might be.

But when she met Robin's sturdy gaze in the firelight, warm and steady, her worries soon dissipated like smoke, carried away by the ghostly breeze of the Night of Yel.


Light a candle for the dead

And sprigs of fir to warm their bed

And in songs, bless the ancient ones

[…] in moonlight we gather

[…] to join with the unseen

[…] calling the spirits

Who come forth on Halloween

Halloween – Faun