Chapter 62.3

Shrill, painful ringing plagued Amara’s senses. Her fingers dug into the soft ground beneath her, desperate for purchase, something to hold onto to stop the world from spinning. Warmth slid down her face, dripping deep crimson onto the dull grass as she crawled forward, inch by inch.She’d never been more afraid in her life.

That monster—a real life fucking , of all things—carried a ferocity that Amara had never seen before. Feral rage that eclipsed even the wrath of the reapers, abilities and power magnitudes greater than any other creature she’d ever fought. Without her powers, she’d frozen in the face of such might. Had Vee not acted with such speed, there was no doubt in her heart that she would be dead right now.

When her vision finally returned, she found herself in a completely different forest. Gone were the reasonably tall trees of Tadghán’s home; Amara now stared up at a blanket of darkness that clung tightly to the edge of a singular, impossibly massive tree.

“Vee?” Amara weakly called out. She winced as she attempted to sit up, briefly cursing the pain that plagued her human body. After she managed to push herself upright, she desperately looked around for signs of her love. “Vee! Where did you go?!” she repeated, her voice hoarse after breathing whatever toxic fumes had been formed by that dragon’s blast of lightning.

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s just little ol’ me!” a familiar voice said. It darted closer, the feminine lilt just as playful as its owner.

Memories of her earlier terror returned to her, and despite every bone in Amara’s body begging her not to look up, her eyes betrayed her. Sure enough, hovering a foot above the ground as she looked at Amara with a gaze that showed far too much concern, was the faerie they’d met on their first trek through this part of the forest.

“Goodness! You’re that woman from earlier!” the faerie said, sinking lower to look at Amara’s injuries. “Wherever are your horns? Your magnificent wings? Oooh, and what’s this little trinket of yours? That’s new!”

A single pale-green finger pointed with immense curiosity at the thick, red potion hanging from a leather cord around Amara’s neck. In a panic, Amara quickly clasped a hand around the bottle to hide it from view. When she looked back up, the eyes of the faerie had grown by several sizes. As unnerving as this was, it highlighted something that was missing from this interaction: fear. When last they’d met, she’d been overcome by a bone-deep sense of dread that drove her to flee as quickly as possible.

“This is…” Amara paused, trying to find a neutral way to describe what was happening. “Nothing I feel like discussing at the moment, I’m afraid. Did anyone else come through here recently? Perhaps any of my companions you saw me with earlier?”

Tears sprang forth from the faerie’s eyes as she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, but no! It’s just you and me, all alone here… But that’s okay! We’re going to have so much fun together!”

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Amara found the faerie slowly circling her and mumbling to herself. “Hm… No wings, no tail, no horns, all your clothes are different too, and you’ve got a strange potion around your neck. A curse? No, that doesn’t make sense. An exchange? Blech, that doesn’t taste right either, you seemed quite in tune with your inhuman aspects. Truly the most perplexing of puzzles…”

Having just rested for several minutes as she assessed her situation, Amara now had the strength to stand up. “I hate to disappoint you, but I need to be going. Where is the exit to this clearing? Can I assume it’s at the bottom of the fallen tree?”

The faerie tilted her head in confusion. “That wouldn’t make any sense at all! Why would the exit be the way you just came in?”

Amara mirrored the faerie’s confused look, however unintentionally. Hadn’t they crossed through this clearing in the opposite direction on the way here? Hoping for answers that didn’t come from the mouth of a faerie, she looked around the area to try and figure out exactly where they were. In spite of her previous assumption, it seemed like her overly cheerful host was correct. Several dozen feet in front of Amara, barely lit by a collection of faint glowing dew drops, was the gargantuan fallen tree she’d flown over earlier.

“I came into this clearing from the opposite direction, though,” Amara said. “Shouldn’t I be at the top of the tree?”

“I’m afraid that’s not how the rules work, my little demon friend,” the faerie whispered gleefully. She smiled as she continued talking, her teeth slightly sharper than Amara remembered them being. “It’s quite simple: in order to pass through this clearing, you must ascend over the tree! Why should it matter which direction you came from?”

Taking great care not to show any obvious frustration or discontent, Amara cleared her throat and spoke up. “Thank you for clarifying, I was unaware of that particular nuance, Miss…?”

“Bah, I told you last time, there’s no need to be so stiff! If you really want to call me something, well, perhaps I can share that with you once we reach the top of the tree? Unless, of course, you’d rather just relax here and enjoy our time together?”

“I’m afraid I must be off,” Amara said. Now that her strength had mostly returned, and the ringing in her ears had vanished, she made her way to the base of the tree. From this angle, it looked even larger than it had last time, and now she needed to ascend to the top without the aid of her wings. As she started to look for handholds, she briefly remembered skipping over the climbing wall earlier in the semester, and a twinge of regret sat in.

Even though Amara had never been climbing before, she understood enough to know that the size of the tree would work to her advantage. Its bark was so thick, so incredibly massive, that each unique texture in its wooden exterior was a possible grip point. She didn’t have the knowledge to chart a route in advance, unfortunately. Even if she did, her temporarily-human eyesight made it impossible to see more than a dozen feet in front of her. With nothing else to do, she reached for a thick wooden ridge and tried to pull herself up.

The first handhold proved sturdy enough, so she turned her attention towards her feet in hopes of finding more. It was slow going at first, but as she started rising off the forest ground, inch by inch, she began to feel the tiniest hint of confidence stir inside her.

Behind her, the faerie continued mumbling to herself, a noise that Amara did her best to tune out. “Perhaps it’s cyclical, like the curse of lycanthropy? Although, if it were, what would the transformation be tied to? It can’t be the moons, they haven’t had any dramatic shifts since we last met. It has to be something with that potion, doesn’t it? It was heavy with purpose, and the magic inside it seemed to have intensified the moment you arrived here. It’s also the same color as your prior essence, as if you transferred your nature into the spellcraft of the potion… But why do that? Why surrender such beautiful traits unless—” A small gasp, followed by something Amara assumed was laughter. Each rhythmic chuckle seemed too perfect, too rehearsed, and the noise itself made Amara’s tongue twitch and jump as if she’d just eaten a mouthful of Pop Rocks.

Amara reached for the next bit of bark. The laughter hinted that the faerie was floating somewhere behind her, which is why she flinched with surprise as the face of her host appeared less than an inch from the side of her face. “You gave up your powers, didn’t you?”

“Fuck!” Amara’s shock caused her to lose her grip, and she plummeted several feet before colliding with the ground. A heavy thud rang out briefly before being swallowed by the darkness of the forest. Fresh pain reignited the injuries from earlier, and shrill ringing pierced her thoughts as she silently gasped in agony.

“You sealed them away, locked them in this little potion!” the faerie said as she floated overhead. “Oh, I bet the contents of that bottle are the most little treat imaginable! I’ll tell you what, my demonic friend; if you give me that bottle and its contents, I’ll fly you to the top of the tree in a flash!”

Doing her best to hold her emotions in check, which proved surprisingly easy without her demonic instincts, Amara crawled back onto her feet. “Not gonna happen.”

Flashes of sparkling red light appeared in the faerie’s eyes, a reflection of the strange flurry of magic that briefly sprang out of the potion hanging from Amara’s neck. “Ohoho! This is even better! I already suspected as much, but the magic intensifies the more you refuse to access your demonic heritage! Delightful! Spectacular! Oh, I know exactly what game we’re going to play as you make your way to the top!”

Once the ringing stopped, Amara returned to the base of the tree. She reset her position, found the handholds that she’d originally used, and started her ascent once more.

“Aww, come on! Don’t you want to hear about this wonderful game we’re going to play?” The faerie’s skin shimmered, shifting to a deep teal coloration as she dramatically pouted at Amara. “You know, if you keep ignoring me, I might think you’re just trying to be rude!”

“I was… simply trying to focus on the start of my next attempt,” Amara muttered slowly, hoping she could pick the right words. “Now that I’ve gotten my bearings, I’d love to hear about this wonderful game you’ve come up with.”

With a delicate fluttering of wings, the faerie rose higher into the air before clapping excitedly. “I knew you loved games! Oh, it’s just like I thought; we’re going to be the best of friends by the time this is over!” She returned to Amara’s side before clearing her throat. “Now, you’ve obviously sealed your abilities away for a reason, but I’ve seen this magic before. You could, at any point, choose to break the enchantment and reclaim your full glory, and each time you refuse a chance to do so the magic grows stronger! With that in mind, the game is quite simple: can I convince you to break the enchantment before you reach the top? It’s a battle of wits! A trial of temperament!”

“I can’t imagine a game more befitting our current situation,” Amara said, doing her best to continue speaking in neutral statements. After responding, she craned her neck to look for another handhold, then pulled herself higher to continue climbing. The thick bark briefly trembled beneath her grasp, but held firm as she pulled herself higher.

“Hehe! Excellent!” The faerie flew above Amara and partially inverted herself, as if her gravity now worked perpendicularly to Amara’s. Once she’d settled down, sitting cross-legged on the side of the tree as if it were the ground, she continued speaking. “Now, how to start, how to start… Okay, well, demons are infinitely varied in their origins and complexity. Perhaps the first matter of business should be sharing what abilities are locked away in that delightful little bottle of yours?”

Amara flinched as her foot briefly slid from its current perch, but thankfully the bark clutched in her hands held firm. Looking down to find her next step, she briefly stared into the void beneath her, realizing that the ground was no longer in sight. A fall from this height would no doubt have serious consequences.

“I could share that information, but didn’t you call this a battle of wits?” Amara asked as she shifted handholds once again. “Wouldn’t it be more fun, and more of a challenge, if you tried to guess what kind of demon I am?”

The faerie pondered Amara’s words for longer than expected, but ultimately nodded as another wide smile appeared on her face. “Even better! I we were going to be the best of friends! If I’m to start guessing, however, I think it’s only fair that you answer truthfully about whatever guesses I might make. Does that sound agreeable?”

After taking a moment to pick apart the faerie’s words, Amara felt confident that no verbal traps awaited her. “That sounds agreeable.”

Grabbing her heels, the faerie started rocking back and forth in excitement. “Yay! Just two best friends, playing a joyous game together! Alright, now, what do I know about demons? They can be quite nasty, and oh so serious, but they like to form their little cliques, don’t they? They need souls to survive, and they gain access to those souls by forming connections with the various emotions and sins of the humans they encounter on Earth.” Bits of moss and bark tumbled down, bouncing off Amara’s shoulders as the faerie tapped her long, slender fingernails against the tree. “So, what sin are you most in tune with?”