Callon grinned, revealing a row of pearl white, tiny little teeth. He had so many teeth. Too many teeth. I swallowed. Fear tapping on the door of reason, long forgotten, in the back of my mind. Maybe this was a bad idea. But he was tall, with windblown golden hair and dark brows. The line of his jaw was strong and covered by warm tawny skin and yellow stubble. As he held me against his torso, the muscles in his chest and arms rippled, moving in a way that makeded me swallow. Mama mia. And his eyes…His eyes were the shade of gold-flecked onyx. If the gold was pink and also the onyx was pink. The contrast was startling, jaw-dropping even - everything about him was. His features were so harsh that they looked carved, and yet they were astonishingly perfect, like an artist worked a lifetime sculpting him, and at least a year of that was spent on his mouth. He was the most exquisite man I’d ever seen. **

Callon brought two fingers to his lips and blew out a whistle. But it wasn’t a whistle. It was just a pathetic puff of air and spittle. He tooted a little from his butt at the same time. 

“Damnit.” He cursed, his grip on my small waist tightening. “I still can’t whistle.” 

Instead he reached into the low collar of his tunic. My eyes grazed the tanned muscles of his slenderly broad chest. He produced a penny whistle and gave it a curt blow. The sound cracked like a pubescent choir boy’s voice. 

We were suddenly being lifted into the air. Below my legs appeared the flank of a silver steed. Callon sat astride the back of a large gray horse. I was pressed to his chest, my legs swung over one side like a proper lady. But I wasn’t like other girls. I straddled the pony, accidentally kicking it a little in the process. Curse this dress. 

“Take me away from this place.” I whispered, urgently. Take me away from this meadow, this forest, this life. I was ready for my debut as a Fae bride. Suck it, Andromeda. 

“You heard the lady. Onward, Sparkle-Pie.” Callon’s breath was hot in my ear-hole. Sparkle-pie reared up with a whinny and shot forward in a smooth gallop. 

No!

I heard Obie cry out from the meadow behind me. But it was too late. The flowers were a blur of color as we made our escape. 

My wretched curls danced in the wind, slapping Callon in the face and poking him in the eye-balls. My stomach leapt and dove as Sparkle-pie dipped and rose deftly upon the foothills of the endless meadow. I could hardly breathe as butterflies and dragonflies and bumble bees smacked me in the mouth. This was freedom. 

But my glee was short-lived. Sparkle-pie swiveled and I cried out in surprise. A giant slimy toad had landed in front of us. Upon its back, in a silly little saddle, sat the Bogmogog Witch. Andromeda. My own sister. My best friend. The tits. Her eyes were dark with intent. She smiled, showing off three teeth. Three black teeth. The toad reared back, readying its coiled tongue. 

We sped to the left, Callon leaning forward, reigns in hand, giving Sparkle-pie a quick tug of encouragement. Keeping time with us via giant, earth pounding leaps, Andromeda and her toad-steed came into view on my right. They fell out of view as we moved with a consistent speed, and then back into view as it leapt forward. I bit my lip. If a witch on a giant toad was moving west at 30mph and a Fae-prince and petite human girl on a large gray mare were moving at- 

I didn’t have time to finish my calculations. I was suddenly yanked from my seat. The toad’s awful slimy wet long pulsing throbbing tongue had wrapped around my slender ankle. I braced for impact with the ground, but instead found myself suspended between the two mounts. Callon had wrapped his arm around my chest, holding me by my armpits. One of my legs was being pulled toward the toad’s gaping maw. The other was caught on Sparkle-pie’s neck and I was awkwardly and painfully doing the splits. I cried out in pain. My dress skirt ripped as the toad fell out of rhythm with Sparkle-pie and my acrobatic feat was deepened. 

“Archie…” My sister crooned. “Come home. Come home with me. We can make things right.” 

“And-Andromeda…” I wheezed out. “I can’t talk right now. Too much…pain…” 

“You think they’ll make you their bride? Is that it?” She let out a cruel laugh. “They’re going to boil you alive and eat you. That’s what they do to us humans.” 

“Ouchieouchieouchie.” I squeezed my eyes shut. 

“If you go with him now there will be no turning back. You have no IDEA what you’re about to set in motion, Archer Flamewheel.” 

Suddenly, my leg was freed. Andromeda let out a gurgling cry of frustration. I opened my eyes, letting tears stream forth. 

In his free hand, Callon wielded a delicate, feminine sword. Its white-gold blade speckled with black toad blood. On the ground,  receding into the distance as we pressed on, the tip of the Bogmogog toad’s tongue twisted and wiggled, decapitated from its body. Callon’s jaw was set in determination, his pink eyes flashing angrily. He pulled me upright in one strong motion, his bulging arm muscles straining against my bosom. 

“Enough of this.” He said, dark and low. He pulled back on Sparkle-pie’s reins and the next thing I knew we were airborne. 

The meadow was growing smaller and smaller beneath us. The stream a silver slice through a blur of flowery colors as it caught the cruel sun. Andromeda and her toad watched helplessly from the ground. I could just make out the double birds she flipped. Obie was nowhere to be seen. I let out a breath of relief and pressed my palm to my breast in an effort to still my wild heart. 

Oh wait…that was my stomach.

“BLLLEEEGH” Hot Wolf snout soup spewed from my pursed plump lips all over Callon’s shapely rump. The taste reminded me of Obie…my loyal feline friend. No. My sexy cat boy potential lover. Had I made a mistake?

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” Callon tried to dry his cute little butt with a dainty handkerchief he procured from his breast pocket.

“Oh gee! So it's my fault you suddenly decided to catapult me into the night sky without warning.”

I maneuvered myself on top of the stead and nestled into Callon's lap. Feeling his strong arms around me, my tummy began to settle.

“And you seem pretty judgy for someone who shit themselves just moments ago.”

Callon looked away in a pout. His face looked as pink as his piercing fuchsia eyes.

“I did not SOIL myself. It was but a mere act of ventilation.”

I thought of arguing further. Even the tiniest of poot contains small amounts of poo. But Callon’s ab muscles behind me flexed as he gasped in exasperation and I decided not to press the issue.

“Sooo. I was a bit unclear on the intent of this whole thing. Were you going to Wed me or eat me?” I paused for a moment as I calculated the sum of the two options. Then smiled slyly back at Callon. “Or perhaps a bit of both.”

He stared back at me with a dumbfounded expression.

“Wait…do elf boys not do that?” It was hard to hide my concerned disappointment. A cat boyfriend would definitely know what I'm talking about.

“This world is broken, Flamewheel. Smashed to pieces due to the selfish desires of men. With you we may be able to staple a bit of it back together. The important parts anyway.”

I found that answer pretty unsatisfactory, noncommittal, and a tad boring. Surely he wasn't making this up as he goes along. But before I could challenge his weak boy ideas he spoke again.

“We are almost there. The gateway to my realm requires special eyes to navigate.”

“Like my hideous peepers?”

“Not quite.” Callon let out a little involuntary chuckle. 

Did he think I was funny? My heart skipped ten beats at the rush of dopamine. I racked my brain for the next hilarious thing to say.

“Hey Callon, what do Mexicans use to cut pizza?”

His strong hands suddenly palmed my head like a basketball, covering my eyes so effortlessly due to the large size difference between his smooth beautiful fingers and my ugly mousey face.

“I'm sorry! I know it's problematic, it's just the first one I thought of!” I racked my brain for a more sensitive joke.

“Be quiet and sit still. Anyone who looks upon the gate without sacred blood will suffer a terrible fate. Just relax.”

I contemplated licking Callon's hand but thought better of it. “What fate exactly?”

“Your eyes will sear with the intensity of the hottest magma and burn through the back of your skull.”

I grimaced at the thought and complied with a thumbs up.

“Don't be alarmed. The gate requires a sacred key to be opened as well. You may feel strange but worry not.” His voice became low and soothing. There was a hint of darkness in its velvety tone. “I have you Archer Flamewheel.”

Shivers shot down my spine. Fuck yeah you do. “O-okay.” I said obediently.

Callon began speaking again, but this time his words made little sense. They were sounds I've never heard before. His voice was deep yet silky. His words began to swirl all around me. I became lightheaded and felt weightless as they pierced through me. My ears drank up each syllable of this strange elven tongue greedily as if it was honey.

I tried to cover my ears but my limbs were limp and jelly. Callon's voice became louder with more authority. My mind betrayed my intentions and welcomed his foreign vernacular eagerly. Obsessing over every sound. I struggled to remember who I was and what I was. My face became flush as waves of ecstacy washed over me with every consonant. A wind began to swirl around us. My hair and clothes whipped every which way.

I tried to speak with no avail. Maybe a pathetic moan or two but it was hard to tell as all my senses went haywire.

I bit down on my tongue as hard as I could. Further and further. Until it finally cracked and bled. The sharp sensation helped me seize control of myself once more.

“CALLON!” My voice pierced through the storm. “What the fuck is this!?”

He didn't answer. At least not directly. He moved one hand from my face and grabbed my own. As he continued speaking, he squeezed my palm with what I can only assume was comfort. The pressure rocketed through my body in a mixture of pleasure and pain as I grimaced in protest.

His voice was booming now. Like deafening thunder. I was beginning to lose myself again in the hurricane. My history began to float away like debris. I grasped onto it.

My name is Archer Flamewheel. I'm 16 years old. Possibly way older. My sister is a bitch. My cat is a babe. Math and archery are my safe haven. My name is Archer Flamewheel I'm 16 years-

Then everything was white.

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**with apologies to Fourth Wing