We reached the top of another dark knoll. The grass was a deep gray under the starlight, but we all gasped at the shimmering purple flowers forming wavering rivers down into the bowl of the next valley. Michael, Dietrich, and Alai laughed together and rushed into the basin. Deitrich threw himself down to roll to the bottom in fits of laughter. I followed cautiously, warily eyeing the empty space and subtle rolls of the earth among the flowers. It couldn’t be that safe, that perfect, could it? Certainly not with the monster Keeper had warned me of looming somewhere.

The others began picking handfuls of flowers and breathing in their deep herb-like aroma. I leaned down and plucked one of the blooms. There was something familiar about this unassuming flower.

“Michael.” I saw Michael handing flower after flower to Alai as she giggled. Deitrich was more cheery than ever, sitting among the blooms and braiding the dark stems of his plucked flowers into a crown. I crept closer and tugged Michael’s arm. “Michael.”

“Henry, when did you get here?” Michael asked.

“It’s time to go home. We said we’d go to the top of the hill. This isn’t the top of the hill anymore,” I said.

“You go home. I’m having fun.”

“This place is lovely, but we shouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be here,” Alai practically whispered. She took a deep breath of her bouquet. My eyes landed on the one flower tucked in Alai’s hair, and I realized why the flower was familiar.

“Where did you get that flower?” I asked.

“From Michael,” Alai said.

“No, the one in your hair.”

“Oh.” She raised her hand to caress the petals. “I’m not sure. I’ve always had it, I think.”

“You couldn’t have. It would have died, and the bloom is still fresh,” I said. Alai tilted her head, considering it.

“Come on, kid,” Dietrich stood. “Can’t you just let us have some fun?” He placed his crown on Alai’s head. She smiled, a blush rising in her brown cheeks.

“I’m not trying to stop you from having fun. I’m trying to make sense of what’s happening. If my brother’s gold piece came from something here, and Alai’s flower probably came from this field, where did your token come from? Is it a scale from some creature or a dagger, or what? What does it belong to? None of you find this strange?”

“No. Quit worrying so much,” Dietrich waved me off.

“He’s right, Henry,” Michael said. “If you’re scared, go home.”

“I can’t go without you.”

“Maybe he’s scared to go by himself,” Alai said.

“Grow up. You’re not a baby anymore,” Michael scoffed, plopping down and sending up a puff of purple petals.

“It can’t hurt to take your brother home.” Alai offered one of her flowers to Michael, and he considered her for a moment.

“No, he can take himself.”

“Fine, I’ll go with him.” Alai took my hand. “Let’s go. Don’t worry, Michael and Deitrich will be fine.” She started pulling me away.

“But—” I began to protest.

“Shh.” She winked at me. “Boys are like this a lot. He’ll change his mind.”

“Wait,” Michael stood. “I’ll take him.”

“What are you all worried about?” Dietrich huffed. “There’s nothing wrong with this place. Let the baby go back by himself. He shouldn’t ruin our fun. Everything is perfectly safe!” Dietrich threw down his token, the pointed end of the scale sinking into the earth. He stomped on top of one of the small knolls. “We’re in a field of flowers. What do you expect to happen? Goblins to randomly appear and kidnap you?”

“No, I—”

I gasped as the ground began to rumble. Dietrich staggered off of the knoll as it slowly began to rise. We gaped as scaly arms and legs appeared from under the sod. A long neck unfurled, revealing a triangular lizard head and toothy maw. Each long, glittering, twisted scale reverberated with a deep rumble in the creature’s chest.

“The Taegorak,” I gasped. “Run!”

Finally, everyone listened, charging back up the hill as the creature shifted from an earthen hill to a jaggedly-edged, cow-barn-sized monster. We managed to scramble to the top of the hill before the Taegorak gave chase. It strode after us on claws as long as a man was tall, tearing deep gouges into the soft dirt behind us.

It craned its long neck forward, snapping up Dietrich in its massive jaws. We shrieked but kept running. The sounds—the crunching and wet shredding that followed—only speed us forward, sending ice water into our veins. We had neared Keeper’s grove by the time the hulking form reappeared.

“Keep running,” Michael huffed while running beside me. “I’ll distract it.”

“No,” I cried. “You can’t!”

“Alai, take Henry. Get to safety.” Before I could protest, Alai yanked me forward.

“Come after me, you ugly demon!” Michael yelled.

He charged westward, away from us. Tears pricked my eyes. The pounding of my feet on the sod echoed the vibrations of the booming steps of the Taegorak.

Finally, we reached the Keeper’s grove. The bright light from the mirrors that had attracted the others was shuddering and dim. My legs and lungs burned with each step. Between the Taegorak’s size and speed, I knew we had no way to outrun it. Then Michael screamed—so sharp, and then, so quiet. It was a dagger in my ears, in my chest.

After a moment of our thudding feet and pounding hearts, we passed the grove, and the thundering of the creature returned. We just had to pass through the valley of husk creatures and climb one more hill to get back to where we had crossed into the foot of the grove. We barreled down into the valley. We forced our way through the husks, their papery skin crackling as we pushed them aside. As we started climbing that last hill, a crunching like charred corn husks fresh from the fire sounded on our heels.

Suddenly, Alai’s hand was ripped from mine, and she shrieked. Skidding to a halt and looking back, my breath caught seeing the Taegorak throwing her high into the air before catching her brutally in its jaws.

I turned back towards the direction of the village and continued to run. Finally, reaching the stump creatures again. Almost home. The path’s edge where Michael and I had crossed into this horrible place came into view. Too far and so close. The stump creatures began pelting me with their fruit, so that I had to dodge them and whatever else would slow or trip me. The thundering footsteps returned.

Slipping on one of the watery fruits, I thudded to the ground. With the Taegorak closing in, the sound of it snuffling as it ran echoed around me, and the smell of its moist stinking breath engulfed me. Pulling myself to my knees and gasping from exhaustion, my eyes meet those of one of the stump creatures. It was so like the creatures from the old stories. The things from the first stories I had ever heard might be the last thing to see me while I was still alive.

It clicked. The Keeper’s words about how the creature hungered for our humanity, and the old stories my parents told of the spirit creatures in the hills. Snatching up the fruit, I took a bite, choking it down. The Taegorak skidded to a stop over me, right as the lump of bitter-sweet fruit scraped down my throat. The creature lowered its massive head spreading its jaws wide, its hot breath smelling of putrid metallic gore rolling over its long tongue.

I put my hands up as if that would protect me and gasped, seeing my skin turning gray and breaking apart like over-dried paper. Then, with a jolt, shadows burst from every crack in my skin, forming the odd creatures we had seen dotting the grove.

The Taegorak snapped its jaws shut, and I pinched my eyes closed, but no pain came. The ground reverberated with the creature’s snarl and the crunching scrape of dirt under its talons. Its feet shook the ground as it adjusted its footing. I opened my eyes, suddenly face to face with one of its massive eyes, and scooted back with a whimper. Its oblong pupil tightened into a pin line of black in a sea of gold. It rolled its neck, curling back and opening its jaw with a gritty growl. The Taegorak’s massive nostrils flared as it took in several huffs of air. It leaned its head back down, its sucking breath shredding free the loose curls of my papery skin. The Taegorak snorted at me, shaking its massive head, and lumbered away.

Slowly, I stood on shaky legs I couldn’t quite feel anymore. Then, running my fingers over the papery shell that should have been my skin, the realization hit that I had become one of the husk creatures. It didn’t matter; I was still alive. There had to be some way to fix this if this crinkling form could just get me home.

My body wobbled on unfeeling legs towards the village. My breaths no longer rasped in the empty cavity of my chest. The aching was gone. All feeling was gone.

I reached the place where the grass met the edge of the village road, still hoping this was some horrible nightmare. Yes, of course, that is what it was. I would wake up any moment now and Michael would make fun of me for having such a dream spun from children’s stories.

I stepped forward and then tumbled to my numb knees, my paper skin crunching as they hit the ground. I shook my head and checked if there was damage to this frail form, but there was no easy way to tell with how this body coiled in papery shreds. My form struggled to stand, to find my feet. I tried again to take that last desperately needed step towards home, only to slide to the ground again.

I reached toward the road, and my hand met something solid I couldn’t feel. A barrier kept me from going forward. I tried to speak, to scream, but whatever makes a person capable of doing so, I didn’t have anymore. No sound came from me except the rustling of my limbs as I frantically probed the air, trying to find a way to slip through this invisible barrier. I wanted to cry, but no tears could come.

The Keeper. Keeper had to know how to help me. He knew what would happen to the others. He had to know how to fix this. I wobbled back towards the grove. It just had to work. I pushed past the creatures that were now odd kin to me and climbed back to the groupings of trees where Keep’s grove was.

Reaching the grove with its floating mirrors reflecting the pine needles, leaves, and the night sky, it was so much darker. A few still held images of otherworldly things, but it was as if the grove was falling asleep with what pictures were there slowly fading into reflections of the here. I needed to get the Keeper’s attention, but how without a voice? I grabbed the edge of a mirror and thrust it down. It shattered spectacularly loud. I looked into the shadows where Keeper had come from, but not even a breeze stirred in the grove. It didn’t come. It never came.

I returned to the barrier many more times in the coming days and years but never could get through. Eventually, I realized it was because the same act that saved my life had trapped me here. As the legends said, my humanity was traded for my life, so there was no way to return to the human world.

I’m almost out of time now. My memories are the last piece of me that remains, and they are slipping away more and more. I can never go back to tell my family what happened—never explain to my parents why they woke up that next morning with no sons. You are my last chance. If you ever find yourself in Gethway, find a fletcher named Wendel. See if he and his wife Addie are well. If you can, help them have a measure of peace.

And if you are in another realm and can’t go, please remember for me. Keep this story so that some part of us who died in the grove can survive. And, if you ever think to tempt the truth of your old children’s stories for yourself, be wary. They might just turn out to be true.

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