Fairy Tale: Winter's Bite

Chapter 5: Aurora Borealis (Part 1)

At the end of a street called Boreas Lane, they turned onto The Mainway, a wider cobblestone road lit with oil lamps on posts. Cassie paused in front of a three-story building. A wooden sign above the entrance said AURORA BOREALIS in dull gold letters. Through the small square windowpanes, Chris caught a glimpse of ordinary life in Pyxis.

The first floor of the inn included a tavern. The solemn glow of the fireplace and the torches didn't seem to subdue the mood. The crowd was diverse and lively. The sounds of laughter, song, strong opinion, and movement reached him as a hum of indistinguishable noise.

Establishments like this existed across the globe in the human world. The patrons, however, were a new sight to him entirely. It wasn't so much their fairy clothing—long, ruffled skirts or dresses for the women and some combination of cloaks, tunics, vests, belts, scabbards, and pointed felt hats for the men—as it was their wings that fascinated him. They varied from white to black and every shade of gray in between, and they also varied in size, shape, symmetry, and strength. Some fairies could barely hover off the ground, while others, such as the servers, could hold trays of refreshments and buzz across the room in the blink of an eye.

Other fairies remained on the ground, with their wings draped like shimmery fabric down their backs, and many others stayed grounded for a lack of wings.

Since Morgan and Ryan had, according to Joe, sprouted wings—something he would have to see to believe—Chris couldn't help but wonder if and when he too would find his wings.

Cassie peered in the inn's latticed window and then tugged on the handle of the front door. For some reason, though, she let it drop and led them to an alley on the left side of the building instead. In near darkness, they stepped over rubbish and a sleeping fairy before they reached a side door. Cassie opened it with a simple key, and they followed her inside.

They climbed a rickety spiral staircase to a hallway on the third floor. She led them past a series of portraits on the walls. The candlelight eerily accentuated the solemn faces in the old paintings, and the uneven floorboards announced their presence with creaks and groans.

Doors kept clicking open and clapping shut. Chris could feel multiple eyes watching their progression. Even the eyes in the portraits appeared to follow in their direction. He was more than ready to get out of the hall when Cassie unlocked a door on the right labeled 13 SOUTHWEST.

The room contained a bed, a fireplace with embers glowing, and a crooked desk stacked neatly with books and tied parchment. A hand-carved bureau stood between the entry door and another doorway that led to an unlit room.

While Joe gazed around, Chris squatted beside the bed, where two small figures lay amid soft blankets. He recognized the sound of his children's breathing but lowered the covers from Ryan's and Morgan's faces to make sure they were unharmed. They were dressed in fairy clothing and curled around each other, and their newly sprouted wings didn't seem to be interfering. They looked perfectly peaceful.

"I'll give you a few moments to settle in," Cassie whispered. "There is a washroom over there and clean clothes for you on the desk chair. I'll be in the room directly across the hall for a few minutes. Then, if you feel so inclined, we can get something to eat downstairs." From the bureau, she took some of her own clothes to change into and left the room.

"Can you believe this place? It feels like we might run into a fairy William Shakespeare." Joe proclaimed. "Though it's not exactly the luxury you would expect a princess to live in."

Chris had to agree. The inn had a common-people, old-world feel to it, and Cassie's room was neat and organized but small and unornamented except for one seascape on the wall. Although he had probably seen similar paintings a thousand times in his life without ever giving them a thought, this one caught his eye for some flaw in it. The setting sun appeared too vibrant, and the ocean underneath it seemed too stagnant. It was as if the painter had never felt the warmth of the sun or experienced the power and magnificence of the ocean.