The door flew open as though pushed in by the wind. A small child who had been laying on the floor, plucking away at a small, harp-like instrument, turned towards the suddenly open door. Her small mouth fell open in shock, its pink lips forming a perfect 'o'. There was a Fae at the door, one whose features were mostly obscured by the deep darkness of the night. The girl scrambled to her feet, her long golden hair falling down around her shoulders.
"H-hello?" The girl stuttered. The figure at the door stepped inside and the light revealed the stranger to be a female. The child peered closer at the newcomer, taking in the bronze skin color that reminded her of her mother's and the small curl of black hair that crept out from beneath a red traveling cloak. She had wings that reminded the girl of those on a moth she had seen fluttering outside her window several nights ago. They were a light dusky brown, with darker brown tips and spots that resembled eyes. Perched on the female's shoulder was a large snowy owl with big golden eyes.
"Ah, yes. The summer child," the stranger said, her voice deep and rasping. "You are looking as golden as ever little one." Normally, the girl would have been pleased at being called golden, but there was something in the stranger's voice that made it seem like an insult. Unsure of how to react, the girl fluttered her own translucent wings nervously. When the child didn't respond, the stranger clucked and shook her hooded head. "Now, now. Is that any way to greet a guest? Run along now child, and fetch your family." The girl stood frozen in place, still staring at the stranger. "I said, go and get your family. Now." The female snapped her fingers and the child broke out of her stupor. She ran away from the entryway, her bare feet slapping against the cold tile floor. When she broke into the sitting room where her parents and sisters were, she just stared at her mother. The girl's distress was evident in her eyes.
"Halia, what's wrong?" Her mother asked, leaning forward in the armchair she was sitting in. Her tan skin glowed in the light from the fireplace and her long black hair fell to her feet. Halia's younger sister was sitting in their mother's lap, sucking on her thumb.
"There, there's a fae at the door. She wants to see you. I-I think she wants to see all of us." Halia's mother looked at her husband, who was sitting next to her, with barely concealed fear in her eyes. Halia's father nodded comfortingly, his blue eyes serious and his long blonde hair shifting with his movement.
"Okay Halia," she said standing up and gently placing Halia's younger sister on the ground. Halia's mother put a hand on her gently rounded stomach and looked to where Halia's older sister was sitting in front of the fireplace. "Srivani, come along," Halia's older sister nodded her small head solemnly and stood up. Even though Srivani was still young, she looked almost exactly like their mother with her long dark hair and tan skin.
"Ma, carry me!" Halia's younger sister demanded from where she had been set down.
"Not now Seri," her mother said gently. Seri humphed and blew a strand of her wispy pale brown hair out of her eyes. "Your father will carry you, though." Seri looked satisfied with that and her father picked her up with a sigh.
Halia gripped her mother's hand tightly as they walked back towards the entrance hall. She didn't want to go back to the intimidating stranger in their house. There was something about the fae that made her want to run up to her rooms and hide. But the stranger had demanded that she get her family, and there was a part of Halia that knew there would be consequences if she didn't.
They found the stranger standing in the foyer, her red traveling cloak still wrapped around her. She smiled a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes, and Halia ducked behind her mother to hide from it. The stranger noticed and smirked, as though Halia had only confirmed something she had already known. Then the fae turned her attention to Halia's mother.
"Hello Neha," she said. Halia felt her mother's hand tense in hers, but Neha said nothing. "Now, now," the stranger tutted, "is this any way to greet your mother?"
Halia glanced at her own mother in shock. Was this strange fae really her grandmother? Neha didn't look at Halia, instead focusing her gaze on the fae.
"I haven't seen you in ten years," Neha's voice was cold, so unlike the mother Halia had always known, "and I never expected to see you again. At our last meeting, you made it clear you and the tribes wanted nothing to do with me."
"Ah, but that was before your children were 'blessed'. Now, the tribes have every claim over them, or, at least, your two eldest." The fae's eyes fell on Seri in her father's arms as she spoke and her lip curled in distaste.
"They've been 'blessed', as you call it, for six years in Srivani's case. Why only show interest in them now?" Neha's eyes were still on her mother, but their was a slight fear in them that mirrored Halia's own.
"You know why." Neha flinched at those word and looked down. Halia looked across her mother and saw Srivani reaching for her other hand to comfort her. Halia's father, just looked confused.
"What do you mean, Calytrix," Halia's father demanded. Finally, Halia had a name to attach to her grandmother's face.
"Tell him," Calytrix demanded, staring at Neha and ignoring her husband. "Tell him why I'm here."
Neha looked conflicted. After several long moments of silence, during which Halia played with a strand of her hair to distract herself, Neha finally turned towards her husband.
"There's a tradition," she began with obvious reluctance. Calytrix nodded, something approaching glee in her eyes. "Among the tribes. Where they offer one of their children to the mythics." Halia's father looked disgusted. Halia shivered, her hand still clutching her mother's. I'm a child. . . she realized.
"Don't make it sound so cruel," Calytrix tutted, "it's not a sacrifice. It's an offer. Now, continue."
Halia had never seen her mother look so unsure of herself. "When the eldest of a family's children turns six, she is taken into the woods and left alone for a night. The theory is that, if a mythic wants the child, it will take her with it. If not, the child gets to return home." Neha looked towards Calytrix, almost seeming to seek approval.
"That is correct." The older fae grinned. "And if I am not mistaken, that one reached six years of age several nights ago." Halia looked towards where Srivani was standing on the other side of her mother. Her sister was staring wide-eyed at Calytrix.
"Absolutely not!" Halia's father broke in, seeming to grasp what Calytrix was asking. Halia wasn't quite sure what it was yet; maybe a birthday present for Srivani? "I will not permit my daughter to be sent out in the woods, especially not for some outlandish Levian tradition." He looked towards his wife, possibly hoping for support, but she was still staring at Calytrix.
"It's the middle of winter." She whispered. Calytrix merely shrugged and adjusted her crimson traveling cloak. Halia wondered what it might feel like; she had never seen a fabric like it before.
"She can have a cloak, but no weapons." Calytrix raised her eyebrows expectantly.
Halia watched as her mother's wings drooped. She hugged Neha's legs tightly and her mother absentmindedly stroked her head in response. Halia's father glanced between Calytrix and his wife frantically.
"Neha, you can't actually be considering this. It's madness to offer our child to a god that doesn't even exi-"
At the male's words, Calytrix seemed to grow and expand. Her eyes flashed in anger and her form filled the doorway. Halia whimpered.
"You dare to insult the very beings who have blessed you so greatly?" Calytrix thundered, making Halia's father flinch. "You deny their existence even after you witnessed the Lord of Life himself bless your daughters? You-"
"Mother," Neha said softly. "He didn't mean it like that. This is not his tradition; he doesn't understand its importance."
Calytrix returned to her previous size. Or rather, Halia realized, the giant form that had taken her grandmother's place had disappeared, like it had been an illusion.
"So you will let her go?" Calytrix asked.
"I-" Neha broke off, distressed. Halia watched as Srivani, who had been silent throughout the encounter, stepped forward.
"I'll go." She said, her voice quiet yet filled with conviction. She lifted her chin to look into Calytrix's eyes, ignoring their father's protests. "I've never minded the cold."
"I suppose that's true," Calytrix tilted her head. "We shall leave at once. Well, after you've said farewell to your. . .family."
Neha murmured some words that Halia couldn't hear to her father, calming him. Halia turned to Srivani and looked up at her sister. "How long will you be gone?" She whispered.
"Only until tomorrow, right?" Srivani turned towards Calytrix, questioning. The doubt in her voice wasn't reassuring to Halia.
"Unless you're chosen. Now, hug your family goodbye and we will be off, One of Winter." Calytrix seemed to be holding back laughter as she called Srivani by her title. It sounded the same way it had when she had called Halia 'golden': demeaning.
Halia hugged her sister tightly, then watched Srivani say goodbye to their parents. Then, the small fae walked out the door beside Calytrix. The last thing Halia saw of her sister was her long dark hair fluttering in the wind before Calytrix took flight, carrying Srivani with her.
Halia was asleep in bed when Calytrix returned. She was sleeping deeply, so she didn't notice when the door to the entryway opened. She didn't see her parents run down the stairs, carrying a sleeping Seri in their arms, to greet the fae. She wasn't there when her parents realized that Calytrix was alone.
"Where is she?" Her father demanded. Calytrix's brown eyes were solemn.
When she didn't respond, Neha pressed her mother: "Was she taken by a mythic?" Her husband sent her a disapproving glare, but Neha just stared at Calytrix. Please tell me that's why she's not with you, her eyes seemed to plead.
"No. She was not."
Neha gripped Seri closer to her chest and leaned into her husband. He placed a firm hand on her wrist and fixed his glare on Calytrix.
"What happened to my daughter?" He demanded.
Calytrix sighed. "There was. . .evidence of a struggle, large claw marks, broken branches. Droplets of fae blood. Something large took Srivani, and all the evidence points to. . .it probably killed her too. I'm sorry." Calytrix met the eyes of the bereaved parents evenly. Surprisingly, there was real sadness in the cold fae's gaze.
"You don't get to be sorry!" Halia's father exploded. "You're the one who forced us to let her go to your idiotic little 'tradition'. You never showed interest in her before tonight, what makes you think you deserve to grieve her loss?"
Calytrix's fists clenched. "I am allowed to grieve the loss of a child. We 'Levians' still value the lives of the fae who hold our future in their small hands, no matter how barbaric you may think us. I may not particularly care that she was your child, but I grieve the loss of life nonetheless." Without giving the male a chance to respond, she strode over to Neha and placed a piece of red cloth in her hands. "This is all we found," her voice was softer now, "I'm sorry for your loss." Then Calytrix left the house and vanished from sight.
Neha stared after her mother, mouth slightly open and unmoving. In one hand, she held all that was left of Srivani's cloak, in the other arm she carried Seri. Her husband leaned closer to her and gripped the hand holding the cloth.
"It will be okay. We'll make it through this." He told her. Neha let out a slight whimper. Something seemed to occur to the male and he looked down at Seri, still sleeping peacefully in her mother's arms. "How will the tribes react when they lean that we have lost their heres hiems, their heir to winter?" He said this almost to himself, paying no attention to Neha's distressed gaze. "We will lose what little support we have. They will be angry, they will revolt they will. . ." he trailed off, then tilted his head and looked closer at Seri. The young fae opened one periwinkle eye and smiled at her father.