FANTASY

Chrysalis
Amy Lynch

The girl raced through the rain, paper-thin shoes soaked and handstitched dress ragged and fraying. Her legs ached, but scars old and
new on both mind and body drove her onward still toward the edge
of the wood. This wood had always been her solace from the rest of
her life, standing silent vigil and awaiting her return. Her family had
never approved of anything she did; their indignation spared neither
who she was, nor her frolicking in the wood. The old stories spoke of
dangerous spirits and creatures within the wood, but she never found
any of the sort, only comfort and friendship.
It was that friend she sought now, for the sharp words and the
hurt could no longer be soothed; it had to be escaped. Her father’s
words still rang in her mind, calling out the name that wasn’t hers—
reprimanding her for not being someone she wasn’t nor could ever
be. She had tried, but she was not that and could never be. But still,
her father, mother, and others berated her endlessly. Her only respite
was the wood and her friend within.
As the girl neared the wood, her breath heaved—the tears mixing
with the rain, her vision blurring as she took those last few steps
towards the wood’s edge. Finally, that last step came. She stumbled
across the threshold and collapsed to her knees with a thump.
Within the wood, no rain fell but that from her own eyes, and
even the sound of the rainstorm became distant and near-silent. The
only sound that echoed out into the dense wood was the girl’s cries.
Crumpled on the forest floor, the girl’s sobbing went on, never
ceasing for more than a moment. But in the midst of that dark,
ancient wood, a hand cupped her chin, and a familiar oaken voice
graced her pained ears.

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“There you are. This one had missed you—what upsets you so?”
The girl’s sadness faded as she looked up at the towering, feminine
form of her sylvan friend. She knelt down, pulling the girl into her
warm embrace. The girl melted into the hug; a touch of compassion
was all it took for her walls to fall away.
“I’m ready now… please, take me away…”
Her friend narrowed her eyes, the irises a soft, earthen green that
ignited slightly. “Are you certain? There is no going back once you
follow me under the hills. And you know the cost…”
The girl nodded her head, burying her nose into her friend’s chest.
Painfully, she whispered. “Take it. This name is not mine, might as
well make it official.”
Her friend nodded, raising one hand from the embrace, to snap
her oaken fingers.

The rising scent of fresh bread was the first thing to hit the girl’s
nose, and she lifted her head from the embrace to take in the sights
now surrounding her. Rather than the dense forest, she found herself
and her friend in a great field of bountiful green with a great tower
woven from leaf and wood before them.
Her friend stood, holding her hand. “If you truly want this…
follow me.”

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The girl followed without hesitation. For her, it had been a long
time coming.
As the pair ascended the tower, fluttering sprites and wisps of
light danced around the tower, swarming the newcomer curiously. At
first, the girl flinched at their approach, but a quick reassuring grip
assuaged her hesitancy. She examined the inner sections of the tower
as they ascended the flowing staircase; it was painted with shimmering
and vibrant pigments, as if flower petals covered nearly every surface.
She squinted at their brightness, her bruised feet and ragged shoes
anathema on such graceful steps. The girl then caught a glimpse of the
grand double doors that awaited at the head of the staircase.
As the two passed through the gate, the girl was awestruck by the
visage of the one they were to meet. Sitting atop a throne of interlaced
living wood and vibrant petals was a woman who measured at least
twice that of even her towering friend. She sat with bare legs crossed,
as she evaluated the girl before her.
Her light, commanding voice echoed out. “And what have you
brought me this time, Citana?”
Citana knelt on instinct and urged the girl to do the same. She
followed, but with far less precision than her friend.
Citana spoke up. “My queen Titania, I bring before you a mortal
girl seeking renewal and rebirth amongst us.”
Titania raised a delicate eyebrow, standing and stepping forward
from her throne toward the kneeling human girl. “Is that so, girl?”
The girl nodded, sweat beading across her brow as she felt the
Queen’s gaze upon her. “I—yes, yes, that’s right. I know—”
“Ah-ah-ah, speak only when told to, dear,” Titania corrected.
“Ah, my apologies.” The girl stammered, causing a light smirk to
form on the queen’s emerald lips.

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“Then you know the cost? I am to have your name, and your
service, until I deem it otherwise. Speak.”
The girl took a steadying breath, calling back to rehearsed lines.
“My name is not my own, but you may have it nonetheless, along with
my service, my queen.”
Titania reached down and plucked at thin air close to the girl. A
string of faerie runes peeled out of the girl’s neck and wrapped around
Titania’s finger. “If your name is not your own, then it is of no use to
me. But… I shall take your service. I shall give you a new name more
befitting of your soul than that ill-fitting tripe.”
The girl’s stressed brow finally started to relax.
Titania bent down and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Then
hear me now. I accept your pledge of service. In return, as is proper,
you shall have a place within my court and my realm. Rise anew, Léan.”
As the girl moved to stand, she felt warmth rise inside of her—she
at first thought it was joy, of which there was no short supply, but soon
found it to be more literal. A radiant light enveloped her, rushing out
of every pore and consuming her form.
The girl expected pain, but found only solace. The peace she
had known fleetingly in the wood was now solid within herself, an
enlightenment of which she could previously only dream. Soon, the
light fell away, leaving only Léan, standing in her new form. Her hair
was long and light, her skin soft and new, and she stood taller than ever
before, now equal to her towering friend.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she could not help but cry out in
pure and utter joy. “I… I’m me!”
The newborn fae raced to embrace her old friend Citana with her
own arms for the first time. “Thank you… thank you so much.”

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