by Emily Faye Holloway
The clearing had been essentially the same for as long as any being could remember. This was not to say that, at some point, it could not have been full of life and teeming with wild fauna. However, ask the eldest elder or most time-wizened elf and they would readily tell you that this specific clearing was known only as “Decay” for as long as they had been alive.
Who specifically decided on that name is a mystery. Humans all tend to say an elven priestess named it because even she could not revive the lingering spirits of nature. Elves refute this by pointing at the fae, who have been rumored to have named it thus as part of a self-fulfilling prophecy (if it is named decay, it shall decay). The fae, all too happy to take credit in a roundabout way, often just say “It could be us. It might not be us, either.”
Local historians have been through this entire rigmarole often. About once a century or so a plucky young thing decides they will be The One who figures it all out. They’ll be famous for solving an ancient enigma and have enough money to woo attractive people and win academic prowess.
They’re usually exhausted of trying to figure out an extensive tangle of tales and fae trickery about a couple of months into their searches.
That doesn’t stop people from just entering Decay as they please. Priestesses and druids make pilgrimages there to pray for healing for the natural world in that one spot. The clearing stays the same. Adventurers offer of bounties of their hunts in hopes of appeasing some nameless deity whom people think rules Decay. The clearing stays the same. Elders bring plants to try and repopulate with flourishing nature. Children brings snacks and cakes. Young lovers offer intertwined songs of happiness.
The clearing stays the same.
No outside influence changed Decay’s seemingly natural state. What worried the nearby populace the most, though, was that everything seemed to actually be decaying. Decay was no longer a stagnant pool of death; it was turning into a spreading illness that might harm nearby areas that were living normally.
Now, this wasn’t to say that Decay would never be fixed. The key to changing its state of rapid deterioration simply had not yet been found. A few good scholars of a local village pondered this one day.
“Perhaps,” said one, adjusting her robes, “if we tried to ask whatever entity governs Decay what is the key to helping them, we might get an answer.”
Another scholar snorted in contempt and retorted, “Yes, let’s just ‘ask’ an entity of unknown scope and source what they want. That will surely work when hundreds of years of other ideas have failed.”
A few of the others scowled at the young man for his tone. He sighed out an apology and let the original speaker continue her idea.
“From what I can tell, most of the records indicate that everyone tries to fix the problem without much prior knowledge. So, what if we ask the source for information on what we can do to help? There’s nothing that indicates that this entity—whatever it may be—is hostile towards receiving help.”
“There’s nothing that indicates the entity is actively hostile, Elyon,” Taranath, one of the previously quiet scholars, snapped.
“I acknowledge your point. Despite this, I still think we should try this theory out in the field. If we don’t, how will we know whether or not it could solve this entire conundrum?”
Everyone looked at Elyon for a moment. No movement entered the space created by silence for a quiet second. Then, Taranath spoke again.
“Do you want to get yourself killed? Think about what our instructors would say.”
“You do realize that we don’t have to tell them everything we do every second of our academic internships.”
A small gasp exited the mouths of several of the young scholars. The stares trained on Elyon were immediately turned into a mix of derisive, disappointed, and displeased looks. Implying in any sort of degree that every second of one’s internship shouldn’t be reported to instructors was like pulling out a list of swears in the regional dialect and hurling them all at innocent passersby.
Elyon, though, didn’t flinch a bit upon receiving the contempt of her peers. She pushed on despite the odd looks.
“I want to figure this out. We all do, deep down. Imagine what could happen to our careers if we solved this. Not to mention saving the local environment. Fellow scholars, how could you not want to seize this opportunity?”
The students fell silent and looked at their feet, the walls, or anywhere besides Elyon’s face. They knew that she was correct. After all, a scholar’s first duty was using knowledge to help others. Knowledge was not meant to be hoarded or kept from those deemed through arbitrary means as “unworthy” of learning. It was a tool to help fix problems using unconventional means.
“Can we call ourselves seekers of the truth while stepping away from a possible solution to a problem because we could get in trouble? Has that ever stopped any great figure in our realm’s history?”
Another beat of silence. Then, Taranath sighed, “She’s right. I don’t know if I one-hundred percent think this idea will work. But Elyon’s correct in saying that if we don’t try we’re going against the foundations of our academic careers.”
A small smile flitted across Elyon’s face for a moment. It had taken much longer than she would care to admit to be recognized in academics—though nobody would ever admit to it, she knew her status as “a fae woman’s bastard” was probably part of it. Her small hometown had been less than accepting when her father—a local magistrate—showed up one day with a child he claimed was his through a fae woman he loved dearly. Most of the town maintained that he was mad; fae made deals through tricks to get others to mate with them. And, as such, Elyon herself was obviously a trickster who would try to harm them all.
Considering all the bullshit that had been thrown at Elyon for her entire life, this moment of recognition was perfect. It was small, and happy, and bright.
******************
It took a few days for the scholars to prepare for this trip. Despite the specific clearing they were investigating being so close, they had to prepare. One student filled a couple of packs with all the specific literature on Decay. Another snuck some provisions from the kitchens as stealthily as possible. Elyon made sure everyone performed a task and that the final party leaving would remain at six members. She’d originally wanted only four to go, but the last two were twins and wouldn’t leave her alone until she said yes.
Once everything was prepared, the group set out in the dead of night. The path to Decay was marked well by many travelers before these students trekked into the darkest woods. It was not a long journey. The party hesitated slightly; then, Elyon was the first to set foot inside the dead clearing.
As soon as she set foot in the clearing, the young scholar could feel it. A type of fae energy emanated from the earth itself. Elyon quietly motioned the others forward, and they stepped into Decay with an impressive amount of hesitation and apprehension. Everyone looked at each other briefly. Taranath pointed at Elyon quizzically, as if to inquire “Are you gonna say something?”
Elyon cleared her throat as quietly as possible, then whispered, “Is…is anyone here?”
Silence boomed back. Even though she knew it was always a terrible idea to disturb fae that obviously did not want to be bothered, Elyon spoke again.
“We’re here to help you. We just—we just need to know how we can help.”
In that moment, a small ripple of energy surged from a nearby tree. Elyon wasn’t sure if everyone else felt it as harshly as she did or if they just turned to look at the tree with her. Another beat of silence passed. Then, a small choked voice.
“You want to help me?”
The fae came into view gradually. She was small and fragile in appearance. Her wings were drooped, torn in places, and only fluttered occasionally. They were a dull pink, like her skin. Her hair was inky black; when the moonlight reflected off of it, Elyon could see hints of a deep blue. The fae sniffled, seemingly holding back a dam of tears.
“Yes. We came here to help,” Elyon replied softly.
The fae smiled and wiped small tears from the corners of her eyes. “You have no idea how grateful I am that you came here.”