"It is said that power corrupts, but actually it's more true that power attracts the corruptible. The sane are usually attracted by other things than power." - David Brin
She sat, back straight, shoulders squared, and pale neck long – she had always prided herself on her perfect posture – she was reading in the drawing room, going over her own journal, her sharp golden eyes scanning every word, every incantation, every spell.
That one would have to go.
She carefully tore out a few pages, setting them on the table beside her to burn with the others.
"Saffy."
She breathed through her nose and tried to keep from scowling; he knew how much she hated that nickname. She looked up with a tight smile as her nitwit of a husband entered the room.
"What are you doing? More reading?" Henry slumped down into the chair opposite her, "You know too much thinking isn't good for pretty little feminine heads."
Saffron's smile soured as she tore one last page from her journal. "Too much thinking," she stood taking the pile of torn out pages with her, "has never been a problem you have suffered from." She tossed the pages in the fireplace and then turned to face her husband, "Dear."
They just stared at each other for a silent moment, neither saying what they wanted to say; they were always painfully polite to each other when they were fighting – unless Henry had been drinking of course – and then he was a loose cannon, a dangerous cannon at that.
"Where are the children this afternoon?" He asked, changing the subject; her steely look must have quelled him – this time.
"With your mother," Saffron smoothed her skirt and walked to the drink cart pouring some sherry into a glass for her husband.
"They are there too often Saffron," Henry said sternly, "They should be with their mother."
"And when was the last time you spent time with the twins?" Saffron wasn't holding her tongue the way she'd trained herself to, not today. It wouldn't really matter soon anyway, she just had to remain civil long enough to get her husband out the front door. She popped open the tiny latch in the ring she wore on her right hand and poured the contents into the sherry; it dissolved quickly and she whispered an incantation over it under her breath.
"- and honestly Saffy, I don't know where the woman I married has gone. One does grow tired of your mercurial nature." Henry was ranting again, but she only heard the last part. She wanted to laugh, to throw the drink in his face and tell him she was still every bit the woman he'd married. Strong, independent, vastly smarter than him, he just had never really cared to understand her. All he saw was a pretty face, and she was so much more than that, especially now.
"I apologize for behaving disrespectfully dear," Saffron said, turning to him and handing him the glass – she gave him a real true smile, the kind she knew turned men's heads and had attracted Henry to her in the first place. "Have a drink before you go to the club."
Henry grabbed the glass, taking a swig and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "Some changes need to be made around here."
"Of course," Saffron folded her hands in front of her meekly, "you would know best."
Henry lifted his chin proudly, "Make sure cook has dinner on the table as soon as I get home this evening."
Heat rose under Saffron's skin but she just smiled and nodded, walking him to the front door. Henry kissed her cheek before he left, making her skin crawl.
Saffron closed the door behind her imbecile of a husband, her one comfort being that she would probably never have to see him again. She turned quickly and made her way up the wide staircase to the second floor, lifting her many skirts and petticoats as she went. Henry didn't know their cook wouldn't be making dinner that night; she'd given the entire staff the rest of the day off and carted the children off to their grandparents. She paused a moment thinking about the children. Would she miss them? Children she had never wanted in the first place?
They were sweet children, and it wasn't their fault they'd been born into an unhappy home. Yes, she might miss them a little, but she knew they'd be alright. Both her son and daughter were strong and smart like her, not like their father – and honestly their grandmother would raise them better than she ever could. Saffron wasn't the kind of woman meant to have children… not that she'd been given a choice.
Besides, she was leaving all her spells and knowledge behind; if her offspring were as bright as she hoped they were, they might discover magic for themselves someday.
She shook off thoughts of what would soon be her past and made her way down the south hallway, stopping in front of the portrait of herself in the corridor. Henry had had it commissioned right after their marriage and she prided herself that she still looked as young and as handsome as she did when she sat for it. Of course, her youth and loveliness spells had helped with that, but in a society where beauty was her only currency, casting beauty magic was the shrewd thing to do.
Saffron closed her eyes and slid her polished fingernail down her face in the portrait while whispering incantations, and a breeze started in the hallway, making her skirts flutter and her perfectly curled golden hair ruffle. She opened her eyes to stare into matching painted ones. A grim smile slipped onto her lips.
She'd taken many precautions, done everything she could to ensure safe travel. She'd torn out parts of her journal that might make it possible to undo her magic, she'd put a stupefying spell on her husband (not that it made much difference as he was already an imbecile), she'd enchanted her traveling mirrors, and now this, this was the last safeguard.
"Fulfill my magic, make it strong," Saffron whispered the incantation again, "Protect me from all that would go wrong. Have this likeness watch for me, until one comes to set me free." She finished her invocation, whispering the last line in Latin just for good measure, "Quoadusque aliquis reponere mihi." The eyes in the portrait blinked and then sparkled back at her.
The breeze gushed through the hall almost knocking Saffron off her feet; she smiled in excitement. It was time. Saffron winked at her portrait and turned away, letting her fingers glide over the carving of a stag on the door that led up to her third floor salon. It was the only place in the whole house, in the entire world, that was just for her. Originally meant to be a nursery for the children and converted when the nanny insisted three flights of stairs was just too much for her.
Saffron was happiest here, if you could count anything she'd felt during the last ten years as happy. There was a plush blue rug on the floor and gold flower-patterned wallpaper on the walls, there were tables and chairs and medical tools and contraptions – she'd studied medicine for some time and its links to magic – there was a wardrobe on the far end where she kept her ingredients and extra supplies. She even had a few human skulls and a full skeleton of a boar back in the smaller rooms.
This is where she practiced magic. No one in the house entered the third floor; if the protective spell she'd cast over it wasn't enough of a deterrent, the powerful and too sweet smell of sulfur, candied pigs feet and drying Geranium would be enough to keep them at bay – just a few of the ingredients she kept on hand.
Of course, only one thing on the third floor drew her attention today – the tall gleaming full-length mirror her father had brought over with him from their homeland in Denmark. She smiled when she saw the glass smoothly bending in and out, a light clinking noise coming from the mirror. It was time. She ran her hand down the cool metal of the frame and over the fairy emblem she'd etched there. Leaning her head against the glass as she breathed in the honeysuckle she'd coated it in.
She stood back and reached to the small table nearby and grabbed a silver handheld mirror – part of a pair she'd carefully enchanted as a sort of backdoor, a safeguard for if things went wrong and she needed to get back to earth. Then, she grabbed the suitcase she'd packed beforehand.
It really was time. She stared hard at her reflection in the glass, eyes narrowed as she called upon all the magic within her and all her excess magic hosted in the mirror, "Open!" she commanded and then took a step through the glass to the other side. To her new life – a life of freedom, of enchantment and of unrelenting power.
Blaine ran through the forest, hearing someone following quickly after him – Kurt it was Kurt chasing him. It didn't matter, he wouldn't slow. Things had changed drastically since he'd fallen asleep next to Kurt last night, watching Kurt's face by the light of the fire. He'd fallen asleep frightened of the world they'd found themselves in, but comforted to know at least he wasn't alone.
That had all changed this morning. He woke up as a cold shiver crawled down his back and sat up quickly, suddenly feeling like he and Kurt weren't alone. Blaine glanced around the empty room, illuminated only by the fire that Kurt had lit with his magic. There was no one else here, still, the tingling in his spine didn't go away. He glanced down to Kurt, sleeping with his hands folded under his cheek and his lips gently parted and wearing only his boxer briefs, his pale skin lit by the dancing flames.
Blaine smiled and softly brushed some hair off Kurt's forehead so he could see his face better. "I love you," he whispered.
He'd been careful not to say the words out loud again to Kurt since the first time. Even though, when he'd been freed from that tree, they'd almost come tumbling from his unbidden lips. He even thought that Kurt had almost said the words himself once – but still, he wasn't going to push. He suspected Kurt might feel the same way he did, or if he didn't, maybe he could someday, but Blaine wasn't going to pressure him, especially with everything else going on. Kurt had reasons to be wary around Blaine, and he knew that.
Blaine glanced back up to the room, whipping his head around to look behind him when he could have sworn he felt a presence just at his back. "Who's there?" Blaine hissed out, not wanting to wake Kurt. Which was silly really because if they weren't alone he should definitely wake Kurt.
It had to be his imagination, but he was too tense to go back to sleep now, no matter how unbearably tired he was. Instead of trying to sleep, he grabbed Saffron's journal from where it lay next to Kurt, leaned up against one of the stones their clothes were drying on, and started to read.
"'Fairy magic, stronger than anything known in this realm . . . Unquenchable power . . . Worlds of freedom and magic and light.'" Blaine read Saffron's words under his breath to himself and huffed out a skeptical breath. Worlds of magic and light? That wasn't this place.
He started to shiver despite the fire and decided to slip on his clothes even though they were still slightly damp. He couldn't stop reading the journal, keeping his eyes on it even as he fumbled one-handed into his clothing and slipping on his still muddy shoes.
"'Once I find it there will be no return,'" Saffron had written. Blaine didn't like those words. He found he'd moved away from Kurt and the fire as he'd read; he wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to go back, be that close to Kurt right now. Instead, he sat down by the door. There was a pale red light coming from outside, but it was not bright enough to read by, so Blaine fished his phone out of his pocket and used its light.
"'I won't be subject to another, not again. Not in this life.'" Blaine's throat tightened, most of what Saffron wrote was of magic, with little insight into her personal life; still, Blaine got the distinct impression she was unhappy.
In his previous perusals, Blaine had skipped over this particular passage because it didn't deal directly with magic; he couldn't' turn away from it now. "'Only power will satisfy me, only power will free me,'" Blaine found he was still reading out loud – not a usual habit of his – and as he said the words out loud, he felt them.
"'Never again will my love be wasted on a useless man,'" Blaine spat Saffron's words out and glanced up at Kurt's still sleeping form, a shutter of anger ran through his body. Not anger at Kurt… why would he be angry at Kurt? His eyes flitted back to the journal. Saffron seemed to be on a rampage, "'I will find my way to the fairy realm and master their power, I will not be stopped.'"
Blaine felt too warm, his blood pumping through his veins like fire and his chest crawling with an anger that didn't belong to him. He should put the journal down, he should stop reading. He'd felt this unexplainable anger before since coming back to Callaway Place and he'd excused it as exhaustion, but now he was scared it was something else. Something that he couldn't control.
He read on.
Saffron's anger was like sharp knives over his skin, his hands were shaking and his vision blurred, the writing on the page started to dance, the letters moving around and forming new words. The red of the sky outside reflected off the pages and Blaine's breathing became labored. "I will not be stopped even now I cannot be tamed. You have come to set me free."
"Hey, Blaine? You with me?"
Blaine blinked, his eyes stinging as if he'd been crying. Kurt was crouched in front of him, a tender smile on his lips. Anger bubbled inside of Blaine, ready to boil over.
Kurt reached out, touching Blaine's arm and Blaine tossed if off; he wanted to shout at Kurt not to touch him, but he was having trouble finding his voice. He surged to his feet, Saffron's journal in his hands. Destroy it. A voice echoed in his head. Destroy it and come to me.
Blaine was standing in front of the fire – he didn't even remember moving there – he glanced down at the journal in his hand and then tossed it into the flames.
"NO! What the hell are you doing!"
Kurt's words felt like fire in his belly. Kurt needed to be quiet. Kurt needed to go away. Kurt needed to stop trying to control him. Stop telling him what to do.
"Shut up!" Blaine screamed; as soon as the words were out of his mouth, a part of him wanted to laugh in relief.
"What happened, Blaine?" Kurt asked tentatively, and Blaine could barely lift his eyes to look at him the anger inside of him so intense.
"Don't come near me! Just fucking leave me alone!" Blaine could hear the words coming out of his mouth; he knew it was him yelling at Kurt, but it didn't fully feel like him, he couldn't rein it in, he couldn't stop it. Amongst his anger there was fear, fear of what was happening to him, fear of this place, but also fear of what he might do to Kurt if he came any nearer to him. "Just leave me alone please."
Come to me, it's your destiny. The voice in his head gave him a solution, a way out, he didn't have to face Kurt – he could flee.
Blaine ran. Past Kurt, through the stone arched doorway and into the red-dappled landscape beyond. The glistening mirrored world was morbid and harsh in the light of what had to be a dull red sun. Its rays reflected off the mirrored stones of the ruined castle. They wouldn't listen. The voice said. They wouldn't help me. They got what they deserved.
He ran, almost tumbling down the hill, back to the forest, the glass in the trees and on the foliage and stones reflecting blood red light over everything. This world was meant to be my escape. It betrayed me. It had to be punished.
That's how Blaine found himself running through the forest, heart in his throat as he kept sprinting and his feet guiding him through a world he shouldn't know how to navigate.
He only stopped when he tripped and sprawled down on the ground, his chin hitting the hard forest floor and his chest aching from the bruises he'd sustained the day before. Thick gnarled tree roots started inching their way towards him. "Stop!" Blaine shouted, but he wasn't even sure it was him shouting, and the roots immediately recoiled.
"Blaine!" Kurt fell to his knees beside him, panting hard and looking terrified.
"Hurts," Blaine moaned as he shifted to his hands and knees and then slumped down to sit in the dirt.
"What?" Kurt's eyes were wide, his hands hovering near Blaine but not touching him.
"It hurts. My chest hurts," Blaine repeated, drawing in a ragged breath; he hadn't realized until this moment how much his chest hurt from the tree roots squeezing him the day before. One good thing about the pain, though, was it distracted from the anger. Right now, his words and thoughts felt like his own.
"Okay I… Blaine, I don't know what's going on." Kurt's fingers twitched, as if not reaching out for Blaine was physically difficult for him. His voice was strained and his eyes were a little damp.
The things Blaine had said back at the ruins started flooding back to him, making him feel unsteady and deeply remorseful, "Oh god, Kurt, I'm so sorry."
Kurt bit his lip, looking conflicted, "Can you show me where it hurts?"
Blaine nodded, reaching down to the hem of his Henley and lifting it over his head. He shivered, the bloodshot sun of this place did very little to warm him.
"Oh, my god."
Blaine glanced down to see what Kurt was staring at. "Oh," he whispered, seeing the purple and blue blooming like pressed roses over his chest and abdomen.
"Blaine, why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" Kurt's voice had gone high with worry. "I need… I need ginger and frog legs... and mint."
"I didn't pack any of that," Blaine joked, trying to lighten the tense air between them.
Kurt glanced up to meet his eyes, "No, you didn't come very prepared."
Blaine smiled.
"Though neither did I." Kurt sighed and ran a hand through his thick messy hair. Blaine had never seen Kurt so unkempt. Muddy clothes, dirt streaked down one cheek, hair in disarray. He was still the most beautiful man Blaine had ever known. And the kindest. The memory of the way he'd yelled at Kurt just moments ago hurt almost as much as his bruises.
"I know an incantation that could at least help with the pain until I figure out what else I can do. Can I…" Kurt swallowed, looking suddenly shy, "Can I touch you?"
Blaine furrowed his brow in confusion, "Of course you can."
"Well, you didn't seem to want me near you just a moment ago." Kurt very gently placed both of his palms on Blaine's chest and closed his eyes.
"Kurt, I'm really really sorry. I don't know-"
"Shh." Kurt soothed, "Let me do this and then we'll talk about it."
He started to whisper a charm, but Blaine was only half listening as he let his tense body relax under Kurt's careful, tender touch, and maybe this wasn't healing him, but god he felt so much better. The pain started to slowly subside at Kurt's words, but as the pain started to fade, the anger started to swirl in the back of Blaine's mind again, as confusing as before but warm and sharp under his skin. No one uses magic on me.
"Stop," Blaine commanded.
Kurt stopped whispering immediately and looked up at Blaine in confusion. "Did I hurt you?"
Blaine quickly stumbled to his feet, his shirt still bundled in his hand, bruises still marring his chest. He slipped his shirt back on quickly and took a step away from Kurt.
"I didn't mean to hurt you." Kurt rushed to his feet, eyes round and worried.
"Stop just stop. Stop using magic." No one uses magic here but me.
"I was trying to help," Kurt snapped, but his expression just looked hurt.
Trust no magic but your own. "I don't have any magic!" Blaine shouted to the voice in his head.
"Blaine?" Kurt's arms were folded against his chest protectively and he seemed wary of Blaine. "I didn't know that bothered you and... and you could have magic, it is in your family."
Blaine shook his head, not able to listen to Kurt and the voice at the same time. She was getting angry again and Blaine ran his fingernails up and down his arms in frustration.
Kurt's eyes followed the action, light dawning behind his eyes. "It's happening, whatever happened back at that castle. What is it?"
Ignore the boy. Come to me.
"Blaine, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."
He can't help you at all.
Kurt took a small step forward, "Please, Blaine."
Don't let him near you! Stop him!
"Stop!" Blaine shouted, and then he was moving, feet sure, hands fast. He had hold of Kurt, pushing him backwards until Kurt's back collided with a mirrored tree, the red sun glistening off it like rubies. Blaine's hands held Kurt's arms tight, his face an inch away from Kurt's and his knee bent to lock Kurt against the tree. "This is your fault. This is all you fault!"
Kurt's eyes were huge and filled with tears, his hands up in surrender. "Blaine, please, you're hurting me."
It took a slow sluggish moment for Kurt's words to sink into his mind, which was swirling with so much rage and hatred that he could hardly breathe, but when they did sink in, something inside of Blaine broke – a snap and then the anger quieted, the rage stilled. It was still there but not in control anymore.
Blaine didn't think he'd ever moved so fast in his life. He jumped away from Kurt as if burned, hands raised and pulse beating in his ears.
"No no no no." Blaine's chest felt hollow – he'd yelled at Kurt, he'd frightened him, he'd hurt him. "I don't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. Why am I always hurting you?"
Kurt was still backed up against the tree, not making a move to come closer, but the fear had died down in his eyes, "Was that even you? You've never hurt me before. What are you—"
"I have hurt you before," Blaine mumbled under his breath, looking down at his shoes.
"What was that?"
Blaine took a deep, steadying breath and looked up at Kurt again, "I have hurt you before. When I was eighteen and chose not to speak to you through the mirror anymore and then didn't try to contact you again for six whole years. I know I hurt you."
Kurt swallowed, but didn't answer.
"I know we've grown up and we've both changed, but I don't think you've changed that much - I mean I don't think it is the fact that you're an adult now that has changed you. You used to trust me. You used to tell me everything. You hesitate now, you hold things back. You aren't completely you around me and I know why. I know it's my fault. I know I did this to us."
The anger was just a quiet murmuring in the back of Blaine's brain now; mostly, he felt all of the guilt and sorrow he'd been trying to ignore since going through the mirror in New York and finding his best friend again only to discover they weren't really best friends anymore.
"I know I apologized before… I think I apologized before? But, Kurt, what I did was... awful, it was selfish and it was… it was the worst choice I've ever made. I'm sorry I keep hurting you."
Kurt looked stunned, he was still a few feet away from Blaine, but he was leaning towards him again.
"Oh, and none of this is your fault. I don't know why I said that, I'm not sure I said that. Just… sorry about that too. What else do I need to apologize for?" Blaine ran his hand through his curls and winced at what they must look like, "Because I will, I'll do it, I'll do anything to earn your trust. That's all I want and... and here I am screaming at you and pushing you against trees and…" Blaine looked down at his muddy shoes again. They had been expensive and were ruined now. "I don't know what else to say."
Blaine heard the crunch of the forest floor beneath Kurt's feet and then he felt the light brush of fingertips against his cheek.
"Look at me?" It was a soft supplication and Blaine immediately looked up.
Kurt's blue eyes were watery, but he no longer looked afraid, and his cheeks were rosy, his lips slightly turned up in a smile. "I forgive you."
"No, Kurt, you don't understand, it isn't that easy. Six years and I lost your trust and now look where we are and…"
"And I forgive you." Kurt shrugged. "I hadn't really before this, you're right in thinking I've been holding back, but I do now. Forgiveness is a choice, Blaine. And you aren't perfect and I know I'm not, but I choose to trust and forgive you, Blaine." He cupped Blaine's face with his hand, and Blaine could feel his thumb swiping away tears. "I want to be best friends again."
"I want that too."
"But first." Kurt smiled, and there wasn't a real sun in this horrible place, but when Kurt smiled like that, Blaine didn't need one. "You have to tell me what the hell is happening to you so we can stop it and focus on getting home."
Blaine nodded and tried to smile back, "It's Saffron."
"Okay…" Kurt's thumb was still stroking Blaine's cheek. "What do you mean 'it's Saffron'?"
"The anger. The violence. The words. I was reading her journal out loud and then her words became my words, or no, maybe my words became hers? I don't know, but I can hear her in my head and she is pissed off."
Kurt blinked a couple of times, "Oh."
"Do you think I'm crazy?" Blaine asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he thought about his aunt.
Kurt shook his head, "No."
"Do you think she could be here? Saffron? She came through the mirror a century ago, I know, but what if she is still here? Is that possible?"
"Blaine, there is nothing to worry about, but I want you to very slowly turn around." If Kurt's voice hadn't been so calm, instructions like that would have made Blaine nervous, but trust went both ways and he trusted Kurt. He slowly turned. Kurt leaned in, his hands on Blaine's shoulders, until one pointed past his face, "Look in that tree right in front of us."
It took a moment, but then Blaine saw movement in the pale red light – there was something small scurrying across a tree branch – it stopped and stood on its hind legs, its crystal nose sniffing and its little tail twitching, casting red light off of it.
"Is that a… chipmunk?"
"Yes."
"A living chipmunk made of glass."
"Yes."
The chipmunk hurried off out of sight and Kurt rounded on Blaine, his hands anchoring his shoulders again as he faced him, "Blaine, I think anything is possible in this place. Yeah, Saffron could still be here, and of course I believe she is affecting you somehow because the angry frightening Blaine I've encountered this morning? That is… it is, he is so not you."
Blaine felt like crying in relief, he didn't feel like he deserved the loving trust Kurt was placing in him, especially after this morning. "Thank you."
Kurt just chuckled and leaned it to press his lips against Blaine's in a soft, short kiss. Blaine wanted to wrap Kurt in his arms and get him somewhere safe, but they had to deal with Saffron first.
"You're not going to like this," Blaine said, his face close to Kurt's, but not in a threatening way this time, it just felt right to be close. "But I think Saffron wants me to come to her, um, I know she wants me to come to her and I think… I think it is the only way to get her out of my head."
"She's still there?" Kurt asked quietly, his voice had a slight nervous edge to it.
"She isn't in control anymore, but I can feel her anger under my skin."
Kurt's eyebrows rose and he looked like he was very carefully schooling his expression not to show any fear, "Okay, great."
Kurt hadn't been pleased when Blaine explained he felt like he knew where they needed to go. "It's like I have a compass inside me. I know where we have to go," Blaine had said.
They'd argued over whether or not it was a trap, finally concluding that, of course, it was probably a trap, but what else could they do? Kurt had wanted to ignore Saffron's apparent summons and focus on getting back home.
"She'll still be there even if we get back, I could feel her there too." Blaine thought back to the few times in the past week that he'd felt irrational anger out of nowhere, and the dreams Saffron had been haunting him with. "The pull is just stronger here, but now that she has hold of me… Kurt, she isn't going to just let go. Even if we get out of here, and what… what if we leave and I end up like..." Blaine didn't want to say out loud what he was thinking, but they both knew the worry.
If Saffron somehow had hold of Blaine, would running from her make him lose his mind like Aunt Helen? It was pure speculation, of course, but a real fear nonetheless.
Kurt's face had gone a little pale at that, and so he agreed to follow Blaine's gut, but not before they explored a little bit, trying to get ingredients for some protection and defensive spells.
"This is hogweed," Kurt said, plucking a few bunches of tiny white flowers, "Well, hogweed and glass. I think we can separate it out, though. And that's arrow arum." Kurt pointed to a leafy green plant.
Blaine knelt down to pick some.
"We need rose oil or clove oil as a conductor, but water will have to do." Kurt's voice was shaking.
Blaine glanced up from what he was doing to see Kurt's hands trembling as he separated hogweed flowers from glass. Blaine moved to kneel beside him, covering Kurt's hands in his own, "Kurt."
"We are about to face a powerful angry witch with no plan, no back up, and only my slap-shot magic as a defense."
"Kurt."
Kurt glanced up, and Blaine smiled when he saw more determination in Kurt's eyes than fear, "And don't you dare tell me I can focus on getting home while you go face her on your own."
Blaine clamped his lips shut, that was exactly what he was about to suggest. Anger stirred in his chest, but he knew it wasn't his anger so he resolutely pushed it down. "We shouldn't do this."
"But you just told me that you had to find her to get her out of your head."
"Not like this." Blaine felt like he was thinking a little more clearly now; he needed to be practical and not base his decisions on his worry or Saffron's anger. "We should get back to our world. If she is... if she still has some kind of link with me, at least there we might have the resources to fight her."
"And if we get back and you're… not you anymore?"
Blaine didn't have an answer that would help Kurt because what he wanted to say was at least you'd be safe, and that wasn't what Kurt wanted to hear.
Kurt sighed, his shoulders slumping, "The truth is I have no idea how to get us back home anyway." Kurt was sitting on a glassy fallen tree trunk, the red light from the sky making his skin look rosy. Blaine moved from where he was kneeling in front of him to sit next to him on the log.
They were silent for a moment, Kurt looking at the flowers in his hands, Blaine's eyes taking in the morose forest around them. "I don't think it was always like this here. Wherever here is."
Kurt glanced up to follow his gaze. "You mean the forest?"
"I mean everything. Saffron said some things… in my head. About punishing people, about giving this place what it deserved. I think that castle may be in ruins because of her – I think something really bad went down here and we are seeing the aftermath."
Kurt laughed and Blaine looked at him. "That doesn't make me feel better at all."
"Don't you see, though? If this world wasn't always so empty and dissolute, if there were people or beings here that had magic… they wouldn't really like Saffron that much would they?"
"Okay…"
"So maybe if we could find some of the original inhabitants-"
"No." Kurt cut him off, "If there are other beings here, who says they are friendly? And how would we find them anyway? We haven't encountered anything here that would make me think there's something here that wants to help us-" Kurt stopped talking, his eyes growing round.
"What?" Blaine's pulse sped up. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"There is something here that helped me. When I was here alone, I panicked and ran around like a mad man until I slipped in the mud and fell asleep."
Blaine's throat felt suddenly dry picturing Kurt alone here in the dark and full of fear. It made him feel sick.
"I had this dream… except it might not have been a dream. And a voice told me to get up and look for you because you were in danger. The voice even reminded me about the Theia spell I enchanted that rock with that led me to you."
"A voice?"
"A female voice." Kurt was smiling like he'd just been given a gift.
Blaine's stomach churned. "You mean Saffron spoke to you too?"
Kurt quickly shook his head. "No. I recognized this voice, though I haven't had a chance to really think about it. Blaine, it wasn't Saffron, it was Helen. It was your aunt and she helped me find you."
"That… doesn't make sense."
Kurt lifted an eyebrow, "Really, Blaine? That's the part of all of this that doesn't make sense to you?"
"I just…"
But Kurt was on his feet pacing back and forth and talking with his hands, "Blaine, it does make sense, spectral transference, or something similar, it could explain why I heard your aunt and why she isn't… why she's been unwell these past few years since coming here."
"Spectral transference?" Blaine asked, feeling lost.
"Here, look." Kurt sat back down next to him and pulled out his magic book from the book bag at their feet. As Kurt flipped through the pages, Blaine noticed the book was rather worse for wear; he felt guilty about that. He remembered not even wanting to touch it when the book first arrived, worrying he'd bleed on it. Blaine glanced down to his own palm, a long cut still etched there from broken glass. He was a little worse for wear himself. At least Kurt's magic was holding and his chest felt mostly better.
"Look. Here." Kurt turned the book towards Blaine, "It is in a chapter called 'Specters & Daemons."
"Uh-"
"Yeah I know, there are some things in this book that are a little uncomfortable and creepy, but this might help us."
Blaine glanced down to the section Kurt was indicating, and there was some text about a person's consciousness being disconnected from their body – to call it creepy was an understatement.
"Please don't tell me that that is what you think happened to my aunt," Blaine said, his eyes prickling with tears.
"Oh Blaine!" Kurt reached out for his hand, "It isn't as dark as it sounds, I mean – and this is just a guess – but it could be good news."
Anger flitted through his mind, making his cheeks flush and his heart beat heavier.
"Blaine?"
"Give me a second," Blaine said, and he hoped he hadn't snapped; as he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, he felt Kurt squeeze his hand reassuringly.
"Spectral transference." Blaine looked up at Kurt, "Explain." That time, he knew he snapped. Kurt flinched a little but didn't let go of his hand.
"A very condensed version is that sometimes when a lot of magic is involved, a person's consciousness can detach. Their body would be one place while their mind is somewhere else."
"And Helen?"
"What if she got home, but not all of her mind went with her?"
Blaine was quiet for a long time thinking it over; it gave him a headache, and the anger just under the surface of his skin was bubbling again, a sign that Saffron didn't like this conversation – which was really what made Blaine think it might be true. "That gives a whole new meaning to my aunt losing her mind." Blaine stated and Kurt stared at him worriedly.
"Okay." Blaine pushed the book back into Kurt's lap as he stood. "Okay then… if Helen is somehow both back in a mental institution in California and here as well, how do we contact her?"
Kurt could tell Blaine didn't like this, not at all. They'd talked for a long time, ignoring their growling stomachs and the sparkling forest around them. Blaine told Kurt everything he'd heard in his head from Saffron – which was frightening – and Kurt shared his plan for contacting Helen. Blaine did not like it, his folded arms and bunched thick eyebrows said as much.
Kurt didn't know how to contact Helen other than what he'd done before – fall asleep. It was an imperfect plan, but it was all he had. He was busy patching together an incantation from two others he knew that might help him contact Helen. Blaine was sitting near him, sulking, though his sour mood may have had something to do with the fact that he was having to clamp down on someone else's anger—an anger that wanted to come loose inside of him.
Kurt was so proud of Blaine, he was much stronger than he thought he was. "I'm going to perform this spell, but, Blaine? I want you to try to perform it too."
Blaine lifted his brows, "Why?"
"Because if you do have magic – and from what you've told me Saffron has been saying in your head, you might – it will help," Kurt explained; having Blaine's magic strengthen the power of the spell, of any spell they did here, would be beyond helpful. It would be comforting too, to know Kurt's magic alone didn't have to get them back home. Blaine wasn't convinced.
"And if I don't have magic?"
Kurt shrugged, "It won't do anything at all."
"I still don't feel good about this. You putting a spell on yourself to make yourself sleep in the middle of a forest."
"You'll be awake. You'll be right here beside me." Kurt reached out to place his hand over Blaine's.
Blaine frowned, but flipped his hand over to hold Kurt's. "I can't tell if you have too much confidence in magic, or too much confidence in me."
Kurt just smiled at him, "I think this is the best plan we have at this point."
"Well, it is better than mine. Just go off to meet Saffron head on."
"Vastly better," Kurt nodded his head teasingly and was rewarded by a soft smile from Blaine.
That was it then. Nothing left to do. Kurt looked down at the spell he'd scrawled in the margins of his magic book. He had spliced together spells before, and this was simple magic, so he felt confident about it. A spell to both fall asleep and keep your subconscious open and listening. Kurt glanced to Blaine. "You'll read it with me?"
Blaine nodded and Kurt lay down on his back, folding his hands on his stomach and closing his eyes, shutting out the dimly lit crimson forest around them. He could feel Blaine sit near him and scoot close. "Ready?" Kurt asked and smiled when Blaine's voice chimed in alongside his reciting the simple words of Kurt's spell. They repeated them a few times, and then Blaine took over as Kurt yawned, his mind feeling fuzzy and…
"Did it not work?" Kurt asked, blinking his eyes open; alarm momentarily overtook him when he couldn't see anything. He sat up in the darkness around him and heard a gentle voice behind his shoulder.
"Kurt?"
He turned to see an older woman approaching him, salt and pepper hair, a simple black dress, green glasses.
"It is so nice to see you, Kurt." Helen Callaway smiled. Her smile reminded him of Blaine, sweet and heartfelt.
She sat down folding her legs lady-like to the side.
"Where are we?"
Helen laughed, "You are in a fairy world, I seem to be in California."
"Not all of you is in California."
"No," Helen said sadly and sighed, "I may have gone farther with magic than I was really prepared for and suffered the consequences."
"You didn't deserve this happening to you," Kurt said, immediately wanting to comfort.
"Maybe not, but we aren't here to talk about me. We have to talk about saving Blaine."
"Saving Blaine?"
"And getting you both home, but Kurt, he is in such grave danger. Saffron has her talons in him… and there may not be a way to free him."
"I won't accept that," Kurt said, his heart thudding in his chest. "I'll do anything I have to for him."
"Why?"
Kurt was taken aback by the question. "Why?"
"You have already risked so much? Why keep risking yourself for a man you barely know?"
"I do know Blaine," Kurt insisted. He did. Blaine was passionate and impulsive, he was kind and silly and a very endearing mixture of confident and shy. Blaine was funny and smart and sexy and beautiful. They still had a lot to catch up on, but Kurt knew Blaine.
"Saffron has little use for you, Kurt," Helen said, interrupting his thoughts, "You risk your life standing up to her. Why do that?"
"Because…" Kurt stopped and swallowed, his heart constricting in his chest. Because you love Blaine. Kurt thought simply.
Of course he did.
He always had.
He'd been a fool to think he could pretend otherwise. And ever since Blaine's heartfelt and teary-eyed apology, any part of Kurt that had doubted how he felt had been ripped away. Forgiving Blaine had opened the floodgate of emotions he'd been holding back. "Because… because I-"
"Don't worry about telling me. I know." Helen smiled a little sadly, "You could maybe… tell him?"
Kurt nodded, unable to find his voice.
"Then let's talk about how to get you both out of here alive and intact." Helen smiled kindly.
"Tell me everything you know about Saffron and her magic," Kurt said, determined to find a way to stop her.
Helen talked and Kurt listened; he didn't know how long they sat there in the nothingness, how did time pass in a dream? But after some time, Helen drew in a sharp breath. "You have to wake up now, Kurt." She stood quickly and Kurt followed suit. "Kurt, wake up!"
"I… I'm trying," Kurt said frantically; he had no idea how to wake up from this.
"Hurry, Kurt!" Helen's form started to fade and her voice sounded far away. "Wake up!"
"How!?"
Helen disappeared and Kurt was left in the darkness. He heard her voice very quietly one last time.
"Oh god. She's here."
There was harsh steel-edge laugher floating around Kurt, and with a gasp of air like coming out of deep water, Kurt's eyes finally snapped open.
"Blaine!" He shouted, sitting up quickly. Kurt was no longer lying on the dirt floor of the forest surrounded by glassy trees and lit by cool red light. He was in a large round stone room with a dirt and moss floor and no doors or windows to be seen; in fact, he wasn't sure where the pale light he was viewing the room with was even coming from. And he wasn't lying on the ground. Kurt looked down to see he had been laid out on a glass and stone… altar for lack of a less sinister word.
His head whipped up when he heard movement behind him, and he turned to see a dark figure hiding in the shadows.
"Blaine?"
He knew it wasn't Blaine.
The figure took a step forward and then another until they came into the strange disembodied light. Kurt gasped at what he saw.
A woman wearing a gorgeous full skirted gown made of blue velvet and shimmering glass, her delicate white gloved hands folded in front of her, the bodice of the dress intertwined with gold thread and reflective crystal, the cut of the neckline showing off pale shoulders, gleaming golden hair tumbling over them and a long white neck and… her face was turned slightly away from him, still partially obscured by shadows.
"Kurt Hummel." A melodic, but distinctly ominous voice called out, "I've been watching you for years. How very lovely to finally meet you face to… face." With those words, she took a final step forward and lifted her chin to the light.
Kurt hurried backwards so fast he almost fell off the altar while getting to his feet.
Her face was gorgeous – what was left of it.
Half of it was smooth skin, wine-colored lips, a high cheek bone, a piercing golden eye. The other half was… was glass. Small slices of broken mirror fused together into the sharp angles of a young woman's face. When she smiled, only one half smiled; when she blinked, only one eye blinked. The other half of her face remained in a permanent glassy scowl that sent shivers down Kurt's spine.
She lifted a gloved hand, curling a finger and drumming it in time with her staccato words, "Tap, tap, tap!" She began laughing again, harsh and grating and Kurt backed farther away as terror washed over him.
