Lily Pondwhisper's Arc

Chapter 8 of 12

The cold current dragged at Lily's legs. She had the caster's hand in one fist and the glowing wand in the other. Above, the surface shone like a coin. It was too far. The caster's grip was weak. Her eyes drooped shut, then opened. Years locked in stone had left her limp as a drowned leaf. Lily could not haul her up alone. The pale fairy swam close. This was the lost sister the eldest fairy still mourned, the one who followed the caster into the dark and never came out. Lily met her flat, tired eyes. "She's too heavy," Lily said. Bubbles broke from her lips. "I can't lift us both." "Then don't lift." The pale fairy pointed at the wand. "Float." Lily didn't understand. The pale fairy grabbed the caster's other hand and pressed it against the wand's shaft. Then she pressed Lily's hand there too, so all three held the same light. "It burns underwater," the pale fairy said. "It rises. Hold on." Lily gripped the wand. The eerie glow flared brighter, warm against her palm. The light seemed to want the surface. It pulled upward, gentle but steady, like a bubble climbing. The caster's body lifted with it. Lily's own weight eased. The cold current still clawed her legs, but now something fought back. "Kick," the pale fairy said. They kicked together. The wand hauled them higher. The coin of light above grew wide. The current strained and slipped. Lily felt the lake's patience snap thin. Stay too long and it kept you. She kicked harder. The pale fairy fell behind. Lily turned. The roots that had bound the caster now reached for the pale fairy's ankle. She had freed the caster but not herself. "Take her up," the pale fairy said. "Go." "Come with us." "I got my thing back once. That was enough." She pried at the root, calm, and did not ask again. "Tell the old one I stopped being angry." Lily could not free her without letting go of the wand. Letting go meant sinking. Meant losing the caster. Meant her kin small forever. She made the choice in a heartbeat. She held on and kicked. The wand broke the surface. Air hit Lily's face like a slap. She gasped and dragged the caster onto the muddy shore of the dark lake. The caster coughed, alive. Red eyes waited at the water's edge. The winged jailer stepped from the reeds, folding his ragged wings. He looked down at the caster in the mud. "You brought her up," Mothman said. His voice was flat. "Now she's mine to deal with." Lily crouched over the shivering caster, wand still burning in her fist. She had broken the curse. She had lost the pale fairy to the lake. And the thing that had jailed the caster for years now stood between them and the path home.