Chapter Text
Sixteen Years Ago: Aster Dell
Ash falls from the sky as though it were rain, but instead of cleansing, it accuses. Each gray swirl that rests in her hair, and along her shoulders weighs her down. It isn’t until her knees hit the still warm earth that she takes in a gulp of air.
She murdered them.
There are charred bodies all over the once luscious land, hands curled and covering faces or holding loved ones, a position of fear and confusion, or love and protection. It will stay with them forever.
It will stay with her forever.
How could Rosalind do this? Farah shook her head and stood, anger simmering just beneath the control she’s always been so good at keeping.
We should have questioned her. I should have questioned her.
The nausea that hits is overwhelming, but she pushes that away, too. She’ll deal with it all, later. Right now, she needs to assess, understand, and plan. Ash coats the back of her mouth, and she spits, running her dry tongue along even dryer lips, wiping the back of her sleeve along her mouth. The tears are there, just beyond, and she takes another breath, steadies herself, and holds her palms down and out towards the wreckage. Her hazel eyes turn to the blue of a spring sky and she waits.
And waits.
She hoped she’d feel something. Anything. But all she receives back is brutal, final silence. She’s staggering along a stone wall that used to be a home, or a market stall, her hand grateful for the solidity of it, grateful that it's there to keep her standing, when she feels it. There’s a tug in her chest, behind her rib cage, and the heel of her right hand rubs along her sternum.
Saul.
Farah knows that tug; felt it in moments where his training has gone too far, when his anger would get the better of him, when he’s looking at her and thinks she doesn’t feel the heat in his gaze, or the one time an enemy managed to slide a blade between his armor. The bond between a Specialist and Fairy is one of unequivocal trust.
Roots and bones seem to grab at her feet, slowing her down and all she can think is, not him, too. Cresting the smaller hill, the demolished city now behind her, she sees him kneeling, sword on the ground at his side, shoulders and head slumped forward. Farah pulls on that bond, and her hand trembles when he doesn’t move. Everything she’d felt only moments ago is coming to the surface, and just before she is about to let it all go, and turn even herself to ash, his head snaps up and turns in her direction.
Their eyes meet just before she collapses to the ground, just as he leaps from his position. She’s so tired. And she knows, she knows that she has to gain control and make a plan, but it's all too much. Ben stayed with Rosalind, and Farah knew she would never forget the fear and confusion in Ben’s eyes after the city was blown apart. It had been too easy. Just before Farah decided to go down to Aster Dell, she and Ben silently communicated that one had to keep an eye on Rosalind. After they called the lightning and fire, Farah felt that something wasn’t right. Ben, out of the four, was the one Rosalind thought didn’t have the makings of a warrior, so she’d never suspect he’d turn on her.
Saul stopped in front of Farah and collapsed, their knees touching, his quick breaths pushing loose strands of honey colored hair against Farah’s cheeks. When she finally took him in, she saw the dirt and blood, and held her hand out, palm up to him. He never took his eyes off her while he placed his hand on top of hers and gently cupped the back of her head, bringing their foreheads together. He let her reach inside, to see for herself that none of his wounds were life threatening. She could see what happened with Andreas, the moment that Saul realized what the actual plan was, and her heart broke for him. Farah’s caress was gentle, reverent, and once satisfied they separated.
“She lied,” Saul’s voice was steady and it reinforced some of that steel back into her spine; she was never alone, not while she had him.
“I knew there was something wrong after we struck,” her voice was a mere whisper, but the shake she expected in it was nowhere to be found. She met his gaze, “she lied about everything, Saul. The practices, the missions, her relentlessness, it was all for this. She planned this and told me nothing about it. I suspected nothing,” the word was a sharp whisper, “about it.” Farah took a breath, “If there were Burned Ones here, they're most certainly gone, but this was also a city that…” her voice broke then and his dirt caked hand cupped her cheek. She leaned into it.
“You need to bind her.”
She pulled away from him, shaking her head with wide eyes. Binding was a last resort, when all other magic had been tried and tested and found lacking.
“We all did terrible,” he squeezed his eyes shut and went on, “terrible things here today. Because she,” he opened his eyes and there was a sheen to them that wasn’t there a moment ago, “lied to us.” Farah didn’t need her magic in that moment to know what he was thinking or feeling.
“Andreas-” she placed her hand on Saul’s armor, just above his heart, “I’m so sorry, Saul.”
“He drew his sword first against a member of his own team.” His shoulders fell, “he knew what was set to happen and still he followed her orders.” He sighed, “Orders or,-”
“-or morals,” Farah’s face softened at the motto she’d heard a million times.
She sat back on her heels, the weight of the day making her shoulders tight and her head heavy. Rosalind is -was- her mentor, to bind her after this would be the right course and offer them time… but it would take a large amount of magic and she’d need Ben’s help. They’d need a story, something the three of them would take to their graves.
They’d have to repair what was done here today. And it would take years, decades, centuries even until it was made right, she knew that.
As they made their way back to the top of the hill, Farah could tell that something was wrong. Ben’s shoulders were pulled inward and worry was etched clear across his face. Rosalind’s back was to them, her face breathing in the salty, sea air. That was the first time Farah saw the despot that her mentor truly was; it was as though, in the fading embers and setting sun, every facade had been burned away.
“Are you alright?” The lack of concern was evident. The woman knew there was no longer a need to play pretend. Rosalind kept her back to them which granted Farah the moment she needed. Rosalind most likely thought she could manipulate her way out of this one. Farah squared her shoulders. Never again. Her eyes burned brightly and she watched as Ben’s shoulders relaxed.
“Do you trust me?”
His eyes met hers and she didn’t need to hear him say or think it. Her dear friend, the one with the softest of hearts, content to be in the library or his greenhouse, helping things grow, would be with her whatever she needed. Farah held her hand out to him, thanking Rosalind in that moment for the greatest lesson she taught them: they were stronger together.
“Close your eyes,” she sent to Ben and Saul. And as the two faeries held hands, their magic becoming one, Saul strong and solid behind them, Rosalind turned, and was knowcked out before she could even call her power.
Farah and Ben’s magic created an ice blue chrysalis around the older Fairy, and despite their hate and anger towards her, they lowered her gently to the ground. Hands still holding tight, Farah pulled Ben to her in a hug, and her heart broke when she heard his first sob, and she knew Saul heard it too when he brought his arms around his friends.
After a few moments, Ben said, “We have to get her back to the school.” He removed his glasses to wipe his eyes, “we don’t know what’s out there and we’ll need stronger runes to keep her from getting free.”
A chill ran up Farah’s back that wasn’t just from the darkness that started to creep in, but from the thought of just what Rosalind would do once, or if she ever woke. Saul’s hand was strong and warm along her lower back, grounding her here and now. “Can you two get her to the car?” Farah looked up at him, the question in her eyes. He cleared his throat, “I want to go back for Andreas.”
She gave him a small nod and he turned in the direction where their friend took his last breath.
“Where’s Andreas?” Ben’s voice was small and hoarse, as though he’d screamed for hours.
Her chin dropped to her chest as she took a deep breath. A wind picked up and with it carried the scent of fire and death, and somewhere in there, parchment and wet earth: her and Ben’s magic leaving this place.
Farah jutted her chin in the direction of their former mentor and Headmistress, “help me with her and I’ll tell you on the way.”
When they met back at the SUV, her heart dropped at the sight of Saul, without Andreas.
“He’s gone. There were scorch marks,” he shook his head, his confusion evident, “they weren’t there before and now he's gone.” Any Burned Ones that weren't in the city could have smelled the blood and went for him, his body would be lost to them, and to his son.
He finally looked at them when he felt a large hand come around his forearm. “Let’s go home.” Saul gave a deep nod to Ben, and climbed in the SUV after him. Farah sat in the back, Rosalind’s head resting on her lap, the magic keeping her bound, bright and strong.
Saul’s head fell back against the headrest, “I need a shower and to sleep for a year.”
He heard Farah hum behind him, the sound dancing along the back of his neck. “As tempting as that sounds, our work is only beginning.”
Saul closed his eyes and knew she was right. They had to contact Queen Luna, explain what happened, and explain the loss of Rosalind. Though he tried to fight it, sleep took him on their trek back to Alfea, his last thoughts being that so long as he had his friends beside him, they’d get through this.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alfea: Present Day
“I chained it up in a barn outside the barrier.” Her back was to him, arms crossed as though warding off the chill that hadn’t left since she faced the Burned One.
“You should have killed it.”
“And left it in the human world,” the idiocy of what he implied was in her tone. It’d wreak havoc on that world and bring unnecessary attention to theirs.
“You should have brought it here and then killed it,” he amended. She turned to him, surprised at the disappointment and anger in his voice, using the dimness of the room to cover the fact that she knew he was right.
He looked away and then back at her face, his voice urgently quiet, “did it break your skin?” His eyes took in every part of her, urgent and scared but still held the heat of a person who knew what lay just beyond the fabric.
Her eyes met his and her voice softened as she said, “no I’m not infected,” she moved beyond the moment, this new discovery refusing to let her enjoy Saul’s gaze, “I got Ben to make up more oil from the Zanbaq flowers in the greenhouse. He said it won’t be conscious for hours.”
“I..I…” Saul shook his head, obviously angry at her for thinking of putting herself in this monster's mind.
“I need to get in it's head, we need to know if this is an isolated incident or anything more.” They had to be prepared, the last time they weren't, thousands died.
He tilted his head to catch her gaze, his eyebrows raised, “anything more? Like what?” His arms were sentinels across his chest, guarding him from what, she wondered.
“I found a changeling in the first world,” the words came tumbling out as though they waited years to break free. The moment they were out she felt simultaneously relieved and scared at what he would do or say.
He took a deep breath and titled his head towards the ceiling, eyes closed. “A changeling,” he nodded and silently cursed whatever God’s were listening to give them just one break, “I haven’t heard of one of those for centuries.”
“Yet, there she was,” she swallowed, “left sixteen years ago, right around the time the last Burned One was spotted.”
She watched his face and the slight widening of his eyes as he said, “You think it's all connected."
“I’m struggling, Saul. Rosalind kept so much from us.” He watched as her carefully constructed mask of control started to slip, and she must have felt it because she turned from him, back to the window. “I’m worried about the students. The Alfea they know is very different from the one we attended,” she shook her head, more strands of her long hair coming free from the pins, “they have so much life to experience.”
He knew, just as she did, the childhood they lost during their time at Alfea. It was all training and practices, preparing from the first year with your Specialist or Fairy, preparing for a war. He took a step closer to her, his arms still crossed. She could feel the heat of him along her back, smell the soap from the shower he had before coming directly to her. His hair was still damp when he came storming into her office.
“Even if this world was safe, what they're going through can feel impossible. But this world isn’t safe. And I don’t know how long we’ll be able to protect them from it.” She paused and looked back at him, “I know you feel it, a shift…”
His head dropped and it was enough of a confirmation.
“They’ve had order for so long they don’t know what chaos feels like,” she turned back towards the moonlit meadow, hands on the cold wooden table and heard him say, “they might know soon.” They stood like that for a few moments more, each in their own thoughts. She hadn't known he moved until his voice danced along the back of her neck.
"You never leave here, to track anything like that again, without me." A step closer. "Ever, Farah."
She closed her eyes and let herself lean back a fraction of a step, and felt the hard plane of his chest. "I can take care of myself, you know,” she heard him scoff, then felt a large hand rest on her left shoulder, as a finger from his free hand traced the line between neck and shoulder. She shivered. They don’t touch like this often, not this intimately. The occasional hand over hand to halt a thought and remind you that you’re not alone, the closeness with which they stand, always grazing one another’s body, and sometimes the hand at the small of her back.
But not like this. Not for some time.
He took a step forward and said, "You're the most powerful being I've ever known," his finger never stopped tracing an imaginary line up and down the corded muscle of her neck, going further up and down with each swipe. "And I know you could handle it. But I couldn't."
Her gasp made him stop and take a step back. She turned, and prayed that in this light, he didn't see the blush along her cheeks and neck, or the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She was grateful to the moon at her back that allowed her to see the dilation of his pupils. Farah wasn't the only one affected by their closeness. "Saul," she stepped to close the gap again, "I always want you there with me,-"
"Just not this time."
"It all happened so quickly-"
"Do you know what would have happened if it had gotten you, what I would have,-" his voice broke off and he turned from her. He ran his hand over his face and walked away from her, towards her desk. The space between them may have been continents.
His back was to her now, as she made her way to him slowly, "we have to get a handle on this," though what she meant by 'this' could have been the Burned Ones or whatever it was that simmered between them.
He stood up straight, taking it as the latter and turned to meet her gaze. "I understand, Headmistress."
Her shoulders fell at the title, "Saul, please just give me time,-"
"Sixteen years…" he ran a hand through his hair and side stepped her to get to the door. "We'll go see it tomorrow. Together." There was no room for discussion, and Farah could see his jaw working, along with the tension that sat along his shoulders.
She felt exhausted, confused, and angry; the only thing she could manage was a curt nod. Once the door was closed and Saul on the other side, she collapsed into an armchair, and let the tears fall.
Tomorrow. She'd pull herself together tomorrow, in time for whatever they'd face. But for now, in the quiet of her office, the moon high in the sky, she let herself fall apart for Bloom, for the fear Farah felt at the Burned One not far from the school, and for herself and the man who still held heart.