Do not accept anything edible from them; to eat from their lands, is to lock yourself out of the land of the mortals, or was it simply drinking the wine?
It better just be the wine…
It felt like eons had passed since she last stepped foot into my forest. I had felt her the moment she entered the treeline and dared to move deeper. The urge to meet her between the trees, to let her marvel at my stag form, and…
Would I be daring enough to touch the sweet mortal?
I nearly had once, long ago, when she still stumbled around like a little fawn. A sweet and lively mortal child. More careful with my subjects than most humans.
Admiring the flowers instead of ripping them from the earth and marveling at the creatures dwelling on this side of my domain from afar, instead of chasing them. The child’s mother had known what I was, the fear, stark and vivid, glittering in her eyes, but there was determination too. The determination of a wolf, protecting her young.
I had no intention of tricking the little fawn, not even to ask for her name. But now, years later, seeing her as a woman grown… Her joy bubbling in her laugh and shining in her eyes as she twirls, entering my garden…
What I long for most is her name.
Her sweet and gentle touch, nursing the flowers of my home back to health after they were destroyed by careless mortals. The wind whipped color into her cheeks, making them of roses and petals. I long for it. A smile finds its way onto my lips as I watch her fall into the grass, a relaxed smile illuminating her face while her hair forms a crown of gold around her head. Soon. I think. Soon you shall be mine, little fawn. Soon you shall dance in the woods until the end of time. You only have to agree to my proposal. One deal and she would be queen. I would even give her my name. Never had a fae given a mortal such power. Never had I given a mortal such good of a deal. She only had to say yes. One little word, how easy it would be. Speak, Alaric; let yourself be known to the little fawn. “Quite a lovely day, isn’t it?” She sits up quickly, turning to face me. Ahh. Her eyes were green, the color of sea glass. Sharp and cutting, but still soft…sweet. I smirked, reveling in her surprise, as she stared at me like a frightened fox. “There you are, little fawn. I was wondering when I’d see those pretty eyes of yours.” I tease, my eyes drifting over her face. Freckles dusted her skin, like little spots of chocolate. Her hair was messy now, a golden tangle. One simple deal, and she’d dance forever to the enchanting chime of my bells.
Faeries love to bargain with us mortals, something that always costs the human greatly. If a human is taken into their realm, it’s nearly impossible for them to find their way back home.
As I wake up, the smell of lavender and the warm feeling of the sun still lingers on my skin.
Despite the comfort of my bed, the urge to get moving – the urge to go back to the garden was overwhelming. As I get dressed, I mentally make a list of all the different flower seeds we still had stored in the old shed.
Despite it being early in the morning, the sun shining through my window was warming the air enough for me to wear a dress.
The breakfast with my aunt was short, and before I knew it, I had kissed her goodbye and was on the track back to the meadow. A zip-lock bag filled with various flower seeds, a bottle of water, and some snacks stored in my backpack.
Soon enough, I arrived at the part of the forest where I had encountered the strange stag – part of me was hoping to see him again.
But he was gone.
Still, my feet didn’t stop. The path felt shorter this time, easier, as if the woods wanted me to return. Once I arrived in the clearing, the warm rays of the sun kissed my skin.
Instinctively, I close my eyes, a soft smile gracing my lips.
I let my bag slide from my shoulder and twirl, my dress flowing around my legs like petals, before letting myself fall into the bed of grass, a soft green pillow underneath my head.
For a moment there was nothing but the sun warming my skin and the soft grass beneath me. I take a deep breath, lightly fingering the soft tendrils of the grass.
The anger and worry that had weighed me down for the last few days were melting away, replaced by a profound sense of peace. I could have stayed here, unmoving, enjoying the warm kisses of the sun on my skin until the sun could no longer reach this sacred place.
“Quite a lovely day, isn’t it?”
My ears twitch, the sound of the voice melodic and captivating, as if it were woven from the very core of this place.
It was melodic. Too melodic.
Startled, I shot up, my eyes frantically darting around me – settling on a young man standing in the meadow.
He stands tall, his broad shoulders and muscular arms making him seem even more imposing than he already was. He looked like he was from a dream or a fever.
”There you are, little fawn. I was wondering when I’d see those pretty eyes of yours.”
“I…”
My throat felt tight. I pause for a moment, his presence startling me.
“I did not see you there.”
I stumble over my words, my heart in my throat.
“I came to clean up the mess from yesterday, but it seems like someone has already beaten me to it.”
His voice is like velvet as he gestures towards the meadow behind him.
“Yeah… I saw the mess yesterday and decided to take the trash home… I brought some seeds to replant some flowers.” I reply awkwardly as I stand up.
“Aren’t you a treasure?“ he said, his voice calm and steady, "Cleaning up someone else’s mess and helping the garden heal.”
He slowly walks closer to me, his eyes never leaving mine.
His face was beautiful. Uncomfortably so. High cheekbones. A jaw carved from something older than stone
Of course he’d look like he walked out of a perfume commercial for woodland gods.
His lips curl into a smirk — not cruel, but something wilder.
Predatory.
“My name is Alaric. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
He took my hand, lifted it gently, and pressed a soft kiss against my skin.
And when he looks up to meet my eyes, I can see it. Piercing lavender eyes, staring into my very soul.
Mortals must know that names hold power, speak not thy name, if you don’t wish to lose control of the situation.
What crimes have I committed to have such a jackass for a brother?
Instead of replying, I immediately try to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Another text:
Can’t talk right now. See you when we drive back home on Friday.
My heart sinks at the message, and I can feel anger and disappointment blooming deep inside my chest.
Was he serious?
Does he really expect me to drop this? He knew I’d be worried. I always am. That’s what older siblings do, we check in. We look after. We care.
He disappears for a day, and when I finally hear from him, he shrugs it off with a smiley face?
I wanted to scream at him, but there was no point. Our arguments always ended with without a resolution. Instead of apologizing, he would simply act as if nothing had happened, as soon as he needed a ride somewhere.
The thought of him enjoying himself in a nice hotel while I had been in distress, worried sick, and searching for him, infuriated me.
I sent a quick message to my aunt, giving her a rough version of the events so she could inform the sheriff. And decide to stay in the meadow for a while, picking up the majority of the trash and simply enjoying the calming scenery.
The meadow was still.
It was as if time and the outside world did not exist while I was inside the garden – a truly welcome change of pace.
It was calm, beautiful, and serene, gentle – too gentle. The longer I stayed, I couldn’t help but notice something strange.
No, there were many strange things in this place.
For once, as I already observed earlier that day, a majority of the flowers seemed deliberately placed, planted by someone. This alone wasn’t enough for me to consider it weird, but right in the middle of the garden, next to a mossy tree trunk, which must have been lying there for decades, was a strange patch of lavender.
The purple flowers were growing in a perfect circle of lavender.
Lavender and mushrooms, in a neat little ring.
Delicate. Quiet. Wrong.
Who would someone plant flowers like that?
It seemed particularly strange to me, but alas, maybe I was thinking too much of it. Nevertheless,there was another feeling, more primal and unsettling, slowly creeping over me as I cleaned up the meadow. As if the Forrest was holding its breath.
That strange feeling of not being alone.
It was as though something unseen was staring at me, just behind the treeline. At first, I thought it was normal to feel this way if you’re alone in the middle of a forest, but the more time I had to ponder over it in silence, the weirder I felt.
Was it the stag?
Did he follow me here, watching, hidden in the darkness of the trees?
Or was I getting paranoid?
It was an eerie contradiction, feeling watched yet oddly calm and safe.
Feeling oddly safe was he strangest part of this. I should have felt hunted, instead I felt….comforted.Deep down, it terrified me, but somehow the meadow’s serenity seemed to cloak me into a sense of security.
After a few hours, I decided to head back home, knowing how foolish it would be, to be in the woods at night. Still, I found myself glancing over my shoulder as I walked. Not with fear. With longing.
I’ll come back tomorrow.
The idea wrapped around me like a secret promise. This was the first time in ages I had felt calm and somehow at peace. On the track back to my aunt’s cabin, most of my thoughts surround the meadow and what I could do tomorrow. I think we still have some flower seeds in the garage. Maybe I could plant some.
Later that night, after dinner with Aunt Ester, I lay in bed. And something clicked.
We had talked about the garden. The flowers. The quiet. The beauty. But not once had I mentioned my brother.
Ophelia never believed the stories — fae kings, cursed meadows, or the lavender-eyed stag that haunted her dreams. She just wanted to find her missing brother.
But the woods remember her.
So does he.
Now she’s trapped in a gilded palace beneath a twilight sky, courted by a dangerously charming fae king who speaks of marriage, power, and eternity.
Every deal comes with a cost.
Every gift hides a price.
And freedom may cost more than she’s willing to give.
This is just a silly, little story I decided to share with you. I hope you enjoy it while it lasts and don’t forget, never trust the fae.
If thou spot a flower or mushroom circle in the wild, do not step into it, for tou shall never leave.
My eyes follow the stag until he disappeared into the trees. I was hesitating, slowly blinking with bafflement.
What just happened?
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. There had to be a rational explanation for the stag’s unnatural eyes – perhaps some genetic anomaly. Something explainable.
But there was no use in thinking too hard about it. I had to make a choice. Standing here and pondering over the lavender eyes of the stag wouldn’t help me find my brother. That idiot tended to do stupid things in a never ending endeavor to impress his friends.
It was best to keep moving.
I followed the creature deeper into the woods. The ancient trees seemingly growing taller the father I went. As I continued on my way, it couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes — the trees parted and revealed something unexpected.
A clearing.
The tall, ancient trees stand silently around the meadow’s edge as if they were guarding something forgotten. The sun filtered through their leaves, casting a golden glow onto the clearing.
The place was alive.
Flowers were blooming in every color imaginable. Blues, golds, deep purples. The grass blowing softly in the wind. Mushrooms peeking from the earth.
The meadow into an entryway to a forgotten fairytale, in which magic and quests seemed just within reach.
But there was one particular thing destroying the ethereal picture of this place.
Trash.
It was left by someone, littered all across the grass. Wrappers. Bottles. Cans.
My eyebrows slant into a frown. Who would do something like that? I let my feet carry me into the meadow, picking up some of the trash.
This place was more than a meadow; it seemed important and cared for as if it were a garden. A wild and beautiful garden filled with a variety of vibrant and colorful flowers, grasses, and mushrooms, while being untamed. It was obvious that once, long ago, someone had loved this place, planting seeds and tending to the plants.
Time and a bunch of humans had tried to destroy this little paradise.
As I continue to pick up the discarded trash and plastic, littering the once lush place, a realization hits me.
Someone had been camping out here recently.
The evidence of their stay was scattered everywhere. Empty beer cans, cigarette buds, and plastic wrappers once containing food.
The signs of a chaotic, disordered presence all pointed to one person:
Jason. My little idiot of a brother.
He and his friend had bought some beer, wandered into the woods and decided to have a little party. And as always, they left a mess behind.
The trash was relatively dry – left after yesterday’s heavy rainfall. So at least they weren’t hurt.
My annoyed gaze swung over the garden. It all seemed so obvious now.
I let myself drop into the grass, a low sigh escaping me. The soft, green plants were tickling my legs as I let myself rest for a moment. It was probably around noon now. Eventually, I took out my phone to check the time.
A new message, from Jason
My heart leapt when I open the chat.
We checked into a hotel in town.
Got lost. Someone drove us there.
See you soon.
Don’t be mad :)
Seriously?
That was it?
After 24 hours of no response — while I was out here, worried sick — he sends me a stupid little emoji?
Next: A circle of lavender and a choice that cannot be undone…
„This writing may be used as a guide on how to survive an encounter with the fair folk. Though the author advises you to follow their advice, the reader should stay weary, as none should trust the fae.“
Sleep had come late, and when I finally woke and peered out of the window, the sun’s rays danced through the trees, bathing them in a warm, golden light. The woods, no longer menacing, had returned to the charm they had in my childhood.
I get dressed quickly, leaving the cabin in the early hours of the morning. I took a step forward and let my feet carry me into the forest. The thick pine trees on both sides of the trail looming over me, offering shade — but still allowing the sun’s rays to dance on the forest floor.
The faint chirping of birds was the only indication I wasn’t alone on the trail.
Was the forest always this quiet?
With each step deeper into the woods, my body feels lighter, as if the forest was absorbing the worries that had plagued me the last day and night. As I walk, a faint smile forms on my lips, the sun warming my face.
I was glad I had put on a short pair of hiking pants — despite yesterday’s pounding rain, the woods were warm and alive, almost reminding me of my childhood.
Long ago, when I was little, I used to run along this path. The flowers blooming in vibrant yellows and purples, ferns bowing, brushing my ankles — as if I were a little princess. My eyes trail across the tall trees as I follow the path.
They must be ancient.
Who knows what secrets they kept inside their whispering leaves?
As a child, I truly believed my aunt’s stories about the magical creatures that supposedly lived in the forest, and even now, the ancient atmosphere makes the forest almost feel enchanted.
No wonder my aunt still believes in her old stories.
But then… a plastic wrapper. Bright, empty and sticky.
Jason.
They must have passed this place. He always had a habit of throwing his trash on the ground. I bend down to pick it up.
No need for an animal to choke on this.
CRACK.
I freeze, my body went still as my eyes scan the tree line, but then I see it.
A stag. A large one, was only a few meters away from me.
My mind and body feel benumbed.
The creature was huge, the antlers intricately woven together like a crown. The creature demanded respect, his eyes scanning me as if determining if I was a threat to his kingdom.
But the eyes…they were enchanting. Otherworldly. Not brown or black, but deep pools of… lavender.
I had seen him before.
I had been playing hide and seek with my mother when I first saw him.
I remember running, my dress fluttering with each step as I ventured deeper into the woods. My laugh echoing through the trees when I saw him. Wise, purple eyes watching me, making me stop in my tracks.
But the stag slowly moved closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Ophelia!”
My mother’s voice had pierced through the trees — there she was standing a couple of meters behind me. Frozen, staring at the same creature.
She wasn’t intrigued.
No, she was sacred.
“Come to me, sweetie. It’s time to head home.”
I knew better than to disagree with her. Slowly, I walked back to her.
But the stag stood still. Unmoving. Waiting.
That was the last time mother took me to visit her sister.
“I know you, don’t I?”
The words left me in a whisper, my eyes locked on his. I always thought I had imagined those strange eyes. The deep lavender hues feeling too dreamlike to be real.
But there he was, right before me.
Staring at me as if I was as strange as he was. Like he remembered me too.
Then, slowly — the stag bows his head, his eyes not leaving mine.
I was frozen, but a part of me felt as if the creature had allowed me to move again.
We stare at each other for a moment longer, unmoving, until he nods in the direction he came from.
“The Faerie Encyclopedia.
Welcome to the realm of the fae folk, where magic, mystery and mischief intertwine.“
My eyes are glued to the raindrops racing down the window. The woods could almost look serene if there wasn’t such a profound anger to them, as if something had sparked a deep hatred into the forest, urging it to darken with the rain.
Tall, green trees illuminated in waves of silken strands of moonlight. The branches of trees tangled together almost as if they tried to tighten themselves around the forest. No houses or buildings except my aunt’s lodge for miles. Only a long and narrow road connected us to the next town. A two-hour drive. In a sense, it could be beautiful and ethereal, if it weren’t for the darkness slumbering within the trees, shadows dancing, cloaking the forest in secrets.
In a sense, it could be beautiful. Ethereal, even.
If it weren’t for the darkness slumbering in the trees.
If it weren’t for the shadows dancing like secrets
It was too dark, too old, to be considered serene.
“Are you even listening to me, dear?”
Aunt Ester’s voice made me turn to look at her knitting frame next to the fireplace. Her old fingers working on a light blue scarf, resembling her eyes.
“Of course I was,” I sighed. “Go on.” (I wasn’t listening.)
Her rambling about mystical creatures, faeries roaming the woods, tricking people… it couldn’t have been further from my mind.
“Don’t worry, dear. The sheriff knows these woods better than anyone. He’ll find them.”
My eyes drift back to the raindrops.
What if they don’t come back? What if my brother was lost… or caught in something worse? What if they got ambushed by a group of creeps? What was that horror movie trope again? A family of cannibal hillbillies roaming around in a big forest? Does that happen here? The woods would certainly be big enough to allow someone to stalk them undetected, and it felt more realistic than my aunt’s fairytales.
“He’s a smart guy. He surely knows better than making deals with strangers or disturbing the peace.”
I ignored her. My gaze followed the edge of the forest, and a shiver ran down my spine.
People get lost in the woods all the time. Most of them get found. I am definitely overthinking this.
“Didn’t you have a goat?”
I only remembered the animal when I noticed the small, empty pen outside the window.
“Oh yes,“ she said „The poor thing died a few months ago. I didn’t want to tell you on the phone. You liked her, remember? The sweet thing got sick so suddenly. Polly from the farmers market had a similar thing happen to her sheep. Sometimes I wonder if all the disruptions in the forest stir up something we shouldn’t meddle with.”
“Aunt Ester, please.”
My voice came out sharper than I meant, and I winced at her surprised expression.
“There are no faeries. No werewolves, vampires, or anything like that. It’s folklore. People trying to explain why someone goes missing in the woods. Why animals die.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm myself. My mind wandering to my brother, who left to go hiking this morning.
People get lost. Especially when they don’t know the terrain.
“I’ll go look for them tomorrow. You’ll call the police department again.”
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