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caffeinewitchcraft:

Inspired by @thenightofthelivingwriters​ 4th day prompt, “the fae are free” (X)

Ellen stares down at the scrap of paper. Her throat still stings from the horrifying ordeal of hacking and gagging it up from where it appeared in her lungs. She can taste blood from her bruised bronchial tubes in her mouth, the metallic taste lingering as she reads the message again and again.

The fae are free. Run.

“Shit,” she says out loud. Then, louder, “Shit.”

She’s not in a good position to run. She’s at her cabin, the one so far into the woods that she has to walk the last mile as the trees grow too close together for her car. It’s a good six miles to the nearest town, another three before she gets to the closest witch’s protection circle.

Even if she starts now, she’ll never make it. The fae the warning talks about–the ones that her dear older brother was supposed to be watching–already know the taste of her magic. She has no doubt that they’re fleeing the broken bars of iron her brother somehow failed to maintain and heading straight towards her.

“It wasn’t my choice,” she tells the night. The candles along her walls flicker. “I didn’t ask for this.”

She half expects to hear her voice echoing back at her. Wasn’t it, little one? Wasn’t it your choice to follow the sound of merrymaking? Wasn’t it your choice to enter Underhill? Wasn’t it your–

“I was a child,” she tells that imagined voice. Then, quieter, “Shit.” It doesn’t matter if she was a child. She’s a witch. She knows why it doesn’t matter. She knew.

Those who freely enter Underhill, no matter their age, can’t ever leave. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. That’s the way it has to be. Magic can’t flow in and out of portals–it unbalances them. She entered as a witch and left as a witch. The hole she created by going against the universe–there’s a reason no one enters those woods anymore.

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