off, drying it with a rag. She approaches me with her
perfectly-pressed robe flowing behind her in waves of white. She
kneels down beside me. “Drink this.”
“It’s the yellow muck?” I sit up confused. “Where did you get
this? Where’s Dad?” She has my medicine, so he has to be here.
“Your father is fine. Now, drink.”
I’m hesitant. I glance at her and see the blue that reminds me of
the mother I never knew. Can I trust her? I look at Rowen standing
behind her.
“It’s all right. Do as she says, Ashe.”
“Is this the same…?” I’m unable to finish the sentence before
she interrupts me.
“Yes, dear. We have a small supply here. Your father has
supplied us with the serum, but we have only been able to smuggle
in small amounts. Straif monitors our every action and we can’t let
him find out about the serum or its whereabouts. Now, drink up.”
As I swallow, I remember Dad and how he mulled over his lab
making this most wonderfully bitter formula. What was once a
burden is now a much appreciated gift. I hand the empty glass to
Rowen. They snicker as if I have geek stamped across my face.
Rowen points to my upper lip. Apparently, I have a yellow muck
mustache, to adorn my already disgusting appearance. I wipe it off
with the cloth I used to dry my hands. With my olive complexion,
it’s hard for me to blush, but somehow I manage. I look down in
embarrassment and I notice a more vivid image of my right leg
starting to appear.
“It’s working.” Ivy’s encouraging. She scoots outside again
snatching the dirt covered shovel on her way out. I’ve never seen a
person her age move so fast. Well, I don’t know how old she is, but
I know she’s a lot older than my father.
I feel stronger. “What’s going on?What’s happening to me?” I
ask Rowen.
He turns to Alder for an answer. “Faeries cannot live in the
human world. So, in an effort to save your mother, your father
developed this serum to keep her alive. The human world is so
toxic. Our kind will began to age rapidly and die within months if
we’re without the serum. Unfortunately, your father was unable to
perfect it in time to save your mother. He finished it soon after her
death.”
“I’m part human though.”
“You are a bithling, Ashe. Therefore, your father wasn’t sure if
your body would be able to tolerate the human world either. He’s
been giving you the formula since your infancy. However, bithlings
do run the risk of dissolution.”
“What?”
“As a bithling grows, their bodies begin to change. Some turn
to sand. Some simply disappear. Others aren’t at all affected by
their condition.”
“So, being a bithling is a condition?” I say with sarcasm.
“I was told there has been only one before, Ashe,” Rowen says.
“There have been other bithlings, other than Luis. You and
Luis are the only ones to reach the eighteenth year. Your father has
kept you alive with the serum. It’s by decree from the Elders this
information has been forbidden knowledge to protect our world, to
protect your world, to protect you. If The Dark Thorn knew of the
serum we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Alder explains.
All of a sudden, it hits me. “That’s what he’s been burying in
the backyard all these years. He’s been hiding it in the ground!”
“It’s not hidden there. It’s the dirt that gives the serum its
power. Your father discovered this soon after Nuin died,” Ivy says
and then she leaves through the front door with shovel in hand.
Ivy returns with another dirt covered jar. Her pristine white
robe has splotches of brown at the hem. After rushing in and out of
the kitchen, and drying the jar off with a clean towel, she hands it to
me. “Drink up.”
As I gulp my leg materializes, becoming more solid and
functional with each passing second until I’m back to normal. The
second dose revitalizes me.
“Good, it’s working,” my aunt remarks.
I’m still wearing the same pair of jeans and green
perfectly-pressed robe flowing behind her in waves of white. She
kneels down beside me. “Drink this.”
“It’s the yellow muck?” I sit up confused. “Where did you get
this? Where’s Dad?” She has my medicine, so he has to be here.
“Your father is fine. Now, drink.”
I’m hesitant. I glance at her and see the blue that reminds me of
the mother I never knew. Can I trust her? I look at Rowen standing
behind her.
“It’s all right. Do as she says, Ashe.”
“Is this the same…?” I’m unable to finish the sentence before
she interrupts me.
“Yes, dear. We have a small supply here. Your father has
supplied us with the serum, but we have only been able to smuggle
in small amounts. Straif monitors our every action and we can’t let
him find out about the serum or its whereabouts. Now, drink up.”
As I swallow, I remember Dad and how he mulled over his lab
making this most wonderfully bitter formula. What was once a
burden is now a much appreciated gift. I hand the empty glass to
Rowen. They snicker as if I have geek stamped across my face.
Rowen points to my upper lip. Apparently, I have a yellow muck
mustache, to adorn my already disgusting appearance. I wipe it off
with the cloth I used to dry my hands. With my olive complexion,
it’s hard for me to blush, but somehow I manage. I look down in
embarrassment and I notice a more vivid image of my right leg
starting to appear.
“It’s working.” Ivy’s encouraging. She scoots outside again
snatching the dirt covered shovel on her way out. I’ve never seen a
person her age move so fast. Well, I don’t know how old she is, but
I know she’s a lot older than my father.
I feel stronger. “What’s going on?What’s happening to me?” I
ask Rowen.
He turns to Alder for an answer. “Faeries cannot live in the
human world. So, in an effort to save your mother, your father
developed this serum to keep her alive. The human world is so
toxic. Our kind will began to age rapidly and die within months if
we’re without the serum. Unfortunately, your father was unable to
perfect it in time to save your mother. He finished it soon after her
death.”
“I’m part human though.”
“You are a bithling, Ashe. Therefore, your father wasn’t sure if
your body would be able to tolerate the human world either. He’s
been giving you the formula since your infancy. However, bithlings
do run the risk of dissolution.”
“What?”
“As a bithling grows, their bodies begin to change. Some turn
to sand. Some simply disappear. Others aren’t at all affected by
their condition.”
“So, being a bithling is a condition?” I say with sarcasm.
“I was told there has been only one before, Ashe,” Rowen says.
“There have been other bithlings, other than Luis. You and
Luis are the only ones to reach the eighteenth year. Your father has
kept you alive with the serum. It’s by decree from the Elders this
information has been forbidden knowledge to protect our world, to
protect your world, to protect you. If The Dark Thorn knew of the
serum we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Alder explains.
All of a sudden, it hits me. “That’s what he’s been burying in
the backyard all these years. He’s been hiding it in the ground!”
“It’s not hidden there. It’s the dirt that gives the serum its
power. Your father discovered this soon after Nuin died,” Ivy says
and then she leaves through the front door with shovel in hand.
Ivy returns with another dirt covered jar. Her pristine white
robe has splotches of brown at the hem. After rushing in and out of
the kitchen, and drying the jar off with a clean towel, she hands it to
me. “Drink up.”
As I gulp my leg materializes, becoming more solid and
functional with each passing second until I’m back to normal. The
second dose revitalizes me.
“Good, it’s working,” my aunt remarks.
I’m still wearing the same pair of jeans and green
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