Ch. 3: Year Ten
Wendy Darling is ten when she sees him again.
She has just finished telling her brothers, seven-year-old John and five-year-old Michael, a bedtime story involving dragons, knights, and wizards. The two boys are already fast asleep, their dreams no doubt placing themselves in the roles of their favorite characters in this latest tale from their beloved big sister.
Wendy is about to climb into bed herself when she realizes the three of them are no longer alone.
"Sorcha."
It's only one word, yet Wendy can tell something's wrong.
"Ciar?" she asks, turning to where he is standing in the corner, half concealed in shadows, all ebonies and ivories and indigos. "What is it?"
"Where did you go last night? I came to see you, but you were gone. There was pixie magic in the room." A faint note of disgust enters his voice at the word "pixie".
Wendy blinks. "Peter Pan took us to Neverland, but we missed Mother and Father, so we came back."
Ciar, tense at the mention of the boy who never grew up, relaxes a little.
"I... am glad you did not stay, little one. We would never have seen each other again."
"What?!" she whisper-shouts. "Why?!"
"I..." He doesn't meet her gaze. "My kind is... banned from places where those of the light congregate."
Wendy has spent two years studying all the faerie lore she can get her hands on, and now a theory is proven. "You're Unsidhe, aren't you?"
He flinches, but nods, still refusing to look her in the eye.
Undaunted, Wendy walks forward and wraps her arms around him. After a moment, he does the same.
"Why can't anyone else see you?" she asks.
"They do not believe. Not the way you do. Not even your brothers, who have seen pixies," again the faint disgust, "would be able to see me. Unlike Sidhe, my people do not perish without belief. We are simply invisible, untouchable, and unheard."
They are both silent for several moments. Finally, he pulls away.
"I should go," he says. "I am... not supposed to be here."
"Why not?"
Ciar grins faintly. "It is a long, convoluted story involving a war between they of the light and we of the dark. Suffice it to say, they won, we lost, and now my people are, among other things, forbidden from making contact with mortals." Dusk colored eyes soften. "You, little Sorcha, are the first human I have spoken with in over four centuries."
"Oh. You aren't going to get in trouble for visiting me, are you?"
He winces. "If I am caught, I will be punished, yes. I shall simply refrain from being caught."
Wendy bites her lip. "Maybe you shouldn't—"
She is cut off by a pale finger against her lips.
"I do not require belief, little one," he says softly, gaze distant, "but to have it again, after so long... Do not ask me to stay away, my light. Please, do not ask that."
"...Alright. Just be careful."
"I will."