Crescent

8

The wisp disappeared at some point during her search, but Vera didn't notice its absence for several long minutes when the sun began to sink again, slowly pulling away the house's only light source. It took awhile for the mana crystals to brighten accordingly. If it weren't for her heightened vision, she would have been floundering in the dark. There were some gifts that all fae shared regardless of magic—the senses were one of them.

She was halfway through the third thick book of notes when dusk fell. Pages and pages of scholarly drabble threatened to drown her in crashing waves of words she barely understood; it wasn't long before they began to blur together completely, and her head pounded with exhaustion. She couldn't tell if the hit to her skull was making it more difficult or if the notes were written in a purposefully confusing way to dissuade outsiders from uncovering the secrets of the project.

As she turned another worn page of spidery script, something slipped from the back of the book and fluttered into her lap. Frowning, Vera lifted the delicate slip of paper up to the fading light, squinting at it until her eyes focused enough to make out the image printed on its surface. It was an old black and white photograph, burned and blackened at the edges. Several spots on the photograph had been damaged from being folded and constantly rubbing against itself. The paper hummed with magic in her hands, suggesting it was created without the use of a camera. When she tilted the photograph, it shimmered with mana dust. Even its shine seemed to have dulled like Eileen's embroidery spells. Magic couldn't protect it forever.

A team of twelve researchers were depicted in the image, all arranged in front of the house when it was new and clean, untouched by the elements that were slowly eating away at it. All members of the team wore a white coat, the left shoulder stitched in a metallic thread with the emblem of the star she had seen throughout the house. Their faces were stony and their shoulders slumped as if they were aware of the heavy burden the Council had placed upon them. Several faces were smudged beyond recognition, and some were victims of the crisp fold that ran down the center of the photograph; the clearest face belonged to a petite woman in the center of the group, the only one who was smiling.

And the only one who was human.

The difference was small, difficult to pick out behind her luscious coils of pale hair, harder even to see in the small photo—Vera leaned forward, squinting until her eyes began to burn from staring—but the fact still remained. The woman's ears were smooth, rounded into that awkward semi-circle shape that would make any self-respecting fae grin with mischief at the prospect of having found another victim. Unlike the fae surrounding her who radiated confidence and a typical stiff ego, their scholar's pendants gleaming in the sunlight that had been forever frozen in time, the woman radiated youthful innocence. Her eyes and cheeks were rounded with a youthful glow. Though it would have been easy to mimic with makeup, her eyes didn't have the telltale fae markings around them either. Humans led such short lives that it was difficult to guess their ages, but she looked to be in her thirties. Such a young thing. Vera couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the woman. How did a human come to be a part of a fae research project? One that was kept under such a tight lid, no less.

Heat crawled up Vera's spine, the familiar flames of curiosity burning in her core. Her hands itched to flip through the rest of the book. Tucking the photograph into the tome her father had given her, she returned to scanning the scrawled notes. Something had to indicate that a human scientist was present. There had to be some record, some account, some document, some reason for her to be there.

Why would the High Council authorize a human to contribute to the fae-killer extermination project? They couldn't use magic, and they were often too slow to understand fae academics. Moreover, the human world was completely separate from that of the fae world. They could only cross over with an invitation from the fae—or upon being taken against their will.