Two: Guiding Light 

Everett felt inclined to stay put in his room for about a week after the assassination attempt. When he got too close to his door, too close to the oval window, his fingers started to shake, and his mouth grew unbearably dry. At night he barely slept and kept his keen eye on both the window and the door. He would interchangeably look between them. So much so that a crick started to form in his neck. Door. Window. Door. Window.  

This paranoia nearly killed him. Whoever had wanted his death had taken the last thing dear to him, his ability to traverse the castle grounds. Now, he felt he was doomed to a sad life, wasting away in his room, unable to move from the fear of being shot by a bow and killed. A tragic end, met with only suffering and pain.  

Everett had always thought he would like to die in his sleep. That way, he was unaware and peaceful. In the lower side of Seles, where the common folk lived, many died of plague and illness. His father sent money there sometimes to the healers and the orphanages, but it was never enough. He only did so because he wished to look selfless and sincere amongst the nobility. It was truly an egotistical act disguised as one of kindness.  

It mattered not, anyways, since he sent nobles down to collect unreasonable rent from them each month. This amount of money that was collected by the Royal family greatly exceeded the donations. But his father being a cruel man was no news to the prince.  

Everett was laid out in the canopy tonight; arms and legs spread in the shape of a star. He had thrown the cover off the bed and to the floor, as he was sweating from his nerves. To be hot on a chilled Spring night; Everett thought it to be the worst.  

The crickets sung loud tonight, much louder than Everett recalled them being. In fact, their chirps were so loud and so sudden that it caused Everett to sit up in bed. He believed it true that bugs always knew when something was awry. Nature always knew. Looking to the window, he saw it clear as day. A glowing figure stood right on his windowsill, just small enough to fit underneath the frame. A thing of Fae magic, right before his unbelieving eyes. 

Or, at least, he thought he saw it. For when he rose from bed to go inspect it, it was gone, merely a figment of his imagination. A mad hallucination; nothing at all. 

He makes it to the window then, leaning his head out of it eagerly. His eyes lit up with wonder when he saw that the entire Elfwoods Forest had been lit up with floating fairy lights. Slow and airy, majestic and taunting. Everett watched with wonder as the lights seemed to notice his presence and split down the middle, forming a neat little path deep into the Elfwoods.  

His fear seemed so small now, and he bravely faced the drop from the tower. Not once did he worry of his fall. He trusted that whatever this was, whatever was calling him, it would protect him. With a horrid and embarrassing grunt, he landed in a rose bush, cursing aloud when the scratchy thorns pierced him all over.  

After he removed the dreadful thorns, he looked to the forest again. The path still illuminated itself for him, bright and unmoving. This must be fate. 

“How beautiful.” Everett whispered, pushing himself up with his sore palms and starting a swift jog to the edge of the forest. This was it! He was about to witness the wonders of the Elfwoods Forest for the first time, hear the whispers of the Fae in his ears and be blessed by their bountiful existence.  

He feels the difference, the magic, when he makes his first step over the barrier. A wave of calmness washes over him, and he would have gone further if it were not for the familiar noise of an arrow striking a nearby tree. This time, it was right above his head, missing by only an inch.  

Terrified, Everett fell to the ground and crawled away from the Elfwoods and thrust his head into the sky. He was unaware of where this assailant was, but he vowed it to himself that he would not allow his premature death. So, he kept quiet and stayed low in the brush. He thought to himself that he was doing quite well, as no more arrows came his way, but he was quite mistaken.  

“You can get up now.” A husky voice calls from above, and Everett quickly turns on his back, alarmed. “I can see you clearly, and I have no more intentions of using my bow.”  

Everett cannot see where the assailant speaks from, but he refuses to get up so easily, even if the assassin swears he knows his location.  

“I do not believe you won’t shoot.”  

It is quiet a moment then, and Everett throws his palms over his eyes. If he was to die in this horrid manner, he did not want to see who it was causing it. Peaceful. He wanted to die peacefully.  

A thud is heard, a sharp inhalation of a breath. And soon enough, Everett feels the presence of the assassin right above him, looking down on him like a bird of prey. He was just a little rabbit, ready to be swooped up into the cruel claws of death. Ready to be carried up to the nest of the afterlife. Eaten by the baby birds of judgment.  

“What are you doing?” The voice asks.  

“Do it.” Everett says back, a tremble in his voice. 

A husky chuckle ensues.  

“Do what?” 

Everett uncovers his eyes just slightly, peeking from between his pinky and ring finger. He is met with not a deranged, decrepit devil he had imagined, but instead a normal-looking man. He was rather tall with long, luscious dark brown hair and tanned skin. His hair tonight was swirled delicately in a braid, dotted with thorns and dark roses. His face was covered in various piercings and face markings, and his eyes shined an earthy, natural green. His hands were shielded by brown leather gloves, lined gently with shimmering stones. 

The prince’s eyes fluttered instinctively to the man’s ears, but the dark hood he wore covered them. If elves did truly exist, this man would be one.  

“You aren’t going to kill me?” Everett’s hands fall from his face, and the man’s blurry face becomes clear. To Everett’s utmost displeasure, he was handsome; he was a character from a fairytale. It was as if a book had tumbled open on accident, fallen off a library shelf, and this Elven warrior had stepped out into the real world. And now here he was, right in front of Everett. 

“No.” The man says, throwing his quiver over his shoulder. His arrows were carried in a nice, brown leather bag. It looked expensive. “If I wished to kill you, I would have done so in the gardens.”  

This has Everett sitting up, face drawn up in anger.  

“You nearly did!” His voice raises, accusing and enraged.  

The assassin crosses his arms, leaning on one of the thick trunks of the Elfwoods Forest. He regards the prince with an amusing smirk. This seemed to all be a game to him! Everett’s teeth grit, hard. His life was nothing but a game. Is that how the townsfolk viewed him? A doe scared for its life when its life mattered not. Something to be seen only, not to be heard, not to be cared for.  

Everett gets up, brushing his robes off and avoiding the assassin’s sharp, entranced gaze.  

“Where are you going?” He asks when Everett steps for the forest again.  

“Where the lights want me to.”  

The assassin’s head tilts to the side promptly.  

“Lights? There are no lights.”  

Snapping his head back to the woods, Everett sees that the lights have, in fact, disappeared as quickly as they came.  

“Never mind.” The prince grumbles. If there were no lights for him to follow, he would not step foot into the Elfwoods Forest. There was no possible way that he could traverse the landscape by himself. He started heading for the castle’s side gate, a quick way back to his chambers.  

When he reached the gate, he grabbed ahold of one of the iron bars, feeling unsettled that he had not gotten at least one more solid glance at the assassin. If he got a better look at his face, perhaps he could be able to report him to the Royal Guard. 

But when he craned his head over his shoulder to steal another glimpse, the man was no longer there.