During her stay, Eibhlin ate food unlike anything she had ever known. The prism fruit dripping crystal juice, small berries that looked like pebbles or wren eggs, stalks of golden grass that tasted like sugar sticks and lemon drops and candied strawberries and several other delicacies the girl had only ever seen in caravan carts. The water was sweet, though a different kind of sweet than the grass. It was like spring and flowers and fresh air following a rainstorm.

She watched as birds flitted about and splashed around in the stream, shaking their feathers as if casting off drops of sunlight. She saw the Sun make way for the Moon with strong reds and pinks, like a young lover’s blush at an innocent kiss. She saw the stars of the Fae appear. One. Then two. Then all at once, twinkling, communicating across the deep canopy. The very air felt as though it tingled with unheard speech and song. And she felt a slight pull as she watched the Moon, violet with anger, as she tried to blot out the stars and turn the heavens into empty space, but here in Mealla’s realm, Eibhlin could see, even if only for a moment, beyond the veil. She wondered if any Fae outside Mealla’s realm could see this. Or did they simply have to hope, never sure if they will even catch a glimpse such as this into the hidden war.

She slept that night beneath stars fighting in their rebellion against rebellion, and she slept as she had not for a very long time.

Mel woke Eibhlin at sunrise, and as the first rays shot across the expanse, she almost tried to dip her hand in them. The stars ran home to bed, and the Moon retreated until their next battle.

Mealla soon appeared and examined Eibhlin’s ankle, wrapped it in a poultice, and declared it safe so long as Eibhlin didn’t push it too hard in the next few days. They ate again, and then the fairy walked Eibhlin to the door.

On the way, Eibhlin asked a question that had lingered in her mind from the day before. “Lady Mealla… what would have happened if I had given back the hammer?”

“The contract would have been completed.”

“Yes, but what then?”

The fairy turned to the girl, and sorrow deep as the sky above flashed through the fairy’s eyes, but then it was gone, like a shooting star. She said, “Do not lose yourself to departed ‘what ifs’, human child. The past is gone for those of us within the Realms. And as for the possible futures, they are not for mortal eyes to see or ears to hear, not by my lips or my craft. For I am the Lady of Crossroads and Gateways, and whatever road you travel must be your choice, not mine.”

Eibhlin didn’t know how to respond to the fairy’s words, or even if she should. Instead, she walked a bit in silence before reaching up to the chain hanging around her neck. Feeling the items hanging on the golden braid, she asked, “What do I do with these keys now?”

“Keep them,” answered Mealla. “Or, if you tire of them, throw them away. They shall return to me, and I shall find them guardians once more, as I have before. For the time being, though, you paid the price for them and are now their proper owner. None can steal them, nor can they be misplaced, for unless given up freely, they always find their way back to their master.”

“But doesn’t that mean I can come back here whenever I want?” asked Eibhlin.

“You have paid for that privilege,” said the Lady, “but I would advise against frequent visits. Humans tend to lose themselves in the Fae when in contact too much or for too long.”

They came to the door. The Fairy Lady motioned as if to open it, but before she did, Eibhlin spoke again. “Lady Mealla,” she said, “I-I wonder if I might make a request!”

The fairy faced the girl. “It depends upon its nature. You may at least speak it. Whether or not I accept is entirely different.”

Eibhlin nodded, dug into her satchel, and pulled out the enchanted purse. Holding it up, she said, “Lady Mealla, I wanted to return this.”

“I already said I would not trade back the hammer,” said the fairy.

“That’s not it,” said Eibhlin. “I don’t want to trade back. I don’t even want anything for it. But I can’t keep it. I can’t keep something I gained by betraying my father. It wouldn’t be right, and… and I don’t think I could ever truly believe I was wrong if I kept it. And so, I want you to take it back.”

“But then… what will you have gained from our exchange?” asked the fairy. “I cannot take back what I sold without compensation.”

“It’s mine to do with as I wish, isn’t it? Then take it, or, if it makes you feel better, then consider it a thank you gift for all your help. I… I don’t want it anymore,” said Eibhlin.

The fairy frowned. Eibhlin gripped Mel’s strap to stop her trembling. She wondered if the fairy had seen through her lie just now. In the end, however, the Lady took the purse, and while part of Eibhlin’s mind wanted to reach out and take it back, like she had with the hammer, another, stronger part of her felt a great pressure lift. Eibhlin sighed, clasped her hands around the keys hanging over her chest, and took a long, deep breath. After exhaling, she looked up at the fairy and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Mealla pushed open the door, and Eibhlin stepped through. She passed through the chamber of doors, through the gate of light, and there was the forest, bright and hot with high summer. Water babbled. Birds chirped. Insects buzzed. The sun felt thin compared to the Fae’s, but the air and light had a different kind of beauty, a tamer beauty than the wild, overwhelming beauty of the Fae. The humble beauty of home.

Taking another breath, Eibhlin set off through the woods, just as she had two days prior. This time, however, the ground was firm, and sunlight turned the forest into a swaying canvas of light and shadow tinged with green and gold. She walked slowly, mindful of her healing foot. And of the new weight settling in her chest. Or old weight, for it was an old, familiar fear, a fear so unlike fearing dark elves or darkness or sorcerous swamps or fairy witches. In comparison, it was a quiet fear, but it was no less powerful. Slowly, step-by-step, it grew and pressed upon her heart.

When she reached the edge of the wood, she stopped, stopped on the threshold to green hills and what lay along them.

“Mel,” she whispered.

“Yes, Milady,” said Melaioni.

“I’m afraid. What if he rejects me? What if he sends me away? I’d rather face the Witch again than that! It’s too terrifying!”

“And yet, you must move. There is no staying here, Milady. Either go forward or backward, but there is no staying. What shall it be, Milady?”

Eibhlin breathed deeply. “Forward. I must go forward, but, Mel, I’m so afraid! Please, help me.”

“But of course, Eibhlin. First, take one step. Good. And now another.”

And so, she made her way across the grass, a lone figure covered in mud and scratches, her gray hair tangled and messy and ragged around her chin. Step by step along the base of the hills until she saw the house. Her heart jumped when she saw it, for sitting at the front door was the unmistakable figure of her father. Her fear rekindled, stronger than ever, yet still she went toward him.

But while she was still a long way out, her father saw her and ran to meet her.

The End