♡

It was her voice you heard first. A quiet evening stroll led you a little further near the forest, and then you began to hear that hum from the distance. The closer you got, the more you became enchanted by the gentle lilt of that croon, the way it flowed so serenely, resembling all too much a sweet lullaby. 

The voice, feminine and lovely as it sounded, bore a quality that made your chest heavy with unpleasant feelings. As if it left the lips of a long deceased ghost — strokes of grief and desolation clouded the sweet notes and turned them a gray color. 

But captivated as you remained, the voice blurred every path from your vision but the one that would lead you to her.

Down in that unremarkable area beneath hills blanketed with moss, a little stream ran through a long terrain. Hardly anything of the environment caught your attention, especially when your eyes landed on her. Slowly wandering and pacing around with no sense of direction, gaze distant as if she roamed a different reality in her mind, all the while that wordless lullaby became even more audible for your ears.

Thick brown hair descended in waves down her body, almost reaching her knees. It covered her smooth and slightly damp skin, as if she had been in the water but spent enough time on land to dry. 

You felt your heart catch in your throat when she turned to face you, her eyes meeting yours. Never had you seen a lovelier girl, with features so divine you would have thought she slipped out of Olympus from the cradle of the Goddess of love and beauty herself.

She seemed just as caught off guard by your appearance, but then she quickly spoke. Even as she fumbled her words, pausing every other moment to structure her sentences in her mind — you were utterly charmed by her voice and that slight accent which you never quite heard before. 

Though you were complete strangers, it felt as if she wanted to change that immediately. She approached you with no sense of boundary or personal space, her gaze travelling all over your form while she talked with you. Neris was her name. Neris. You repeated it in your mind like a melody you won't be able to ever forget.

Hours passed by like seconds in the company of the girl, and by nightfall you knew it was your time to return. Neris could not join you on your way back, and she could barely allow you to go on your own either. Only at your promise of a visit the very next morning did she relent. She also asked you if you knew of a certain girl, if she maybe inhabited your village. You apologetically told her that you wouldn't know, as you only recently moved here after all.

Something seemed to dawn on her when you said that. It made sense now why you were here, why you would follow a beautiful tune in the woodland, and then so blindly trust a girl that you very well knew could not be human.

You were new, clean, untouched. Your head was still untainted by old warnings and tales.

But for how long would that last? How long would it take until the elders got their wretched hands on you, defiling your pure mind with their ideas that burned with disrespect and hatred toward the hidden? You continued to visit her every day, but could she be constantly sure of your return? 

She once did so trust a human girl, the very first one she had ever even known. A girl whose company she could never get enough of, who dedicated every free minute she had to the nymph, who told her so much of her world and helped her learn more of their language, who once played such a beautiful song for her.

A girl who visited every day, just like you began doing, only to gradually distance herself and then never visit Neris again.

But she had you now, and you were so utterly unaware and naïve, and so incredibly sweet that she could not stand letting you go every night. 

Because every time you left, she wondered if it would be the last she'd see of you.

As your bond grew, so did Neris's attachment, as well as her fears. She needed you to meet her by the stream every day at specific times, and you could not dare be late. You were urged — practically forced, to share every detail of your day: where you went, what kind of people you spent time with, and what they meant to you.

Why did you walk home with that girl? Why were you nice to him? Why would you spend time you owed to her with people who meant nothing? What did you talk about with them? What did they tell you? What filthy, despicable cautionary tales did they poison your mind with? Was there a hidden reason you wanted to go back home early tonight?

Neris' magnificent beauty shed to reveal something less than appealing. Something fearful, desperate, angry.

"You are a liar! You said that you will not do anything to upset me, but you do that every day! You keep talking to these people, you will happily let them take you from me!"

Another night spent trying to soothe the rage of the nymph in front of you, who now completely invaded your personal space and roughly held onto your shoulders, her fingers digging into your flesh tightly as though you may try to escape. 

"They will try to take you away. They will tell you horrible things about me. Do you know what I will do if you never return? I won't let anyone go from this stream alive. The bones will continue to grow until there is more than rocks. I will turn the water red with the blood of everyone who lives in your village."

The nymph's eyes welled with tears, her anger melting into frantic bitterness. "Do you hate me? Is that why you never listen to what I say? I don't even let them get near you." She glanced at the stream, "So why do you let other people be close to you? I told you so many times, I'm not sharing you with anyone! You are mine alone, or you are worth nothing."

You learned with time how to stay safe around Neris. It took a lot of anger, scoldings, threats, and tears, but you eventually figured out how to remain on her good side. Never be late, never leave early, never be around other villagers for too long, never even think about not visiting. 

Another thing you had to be wary of was your language. You had to speak as clearly, directly and simply as you could, to ensure she understands everything you say. Figurative language and slang were dangerous territory. If she misunderstood what you said or did not know what it meant at all, she believed you were doing it on purpose to keep certain information hidden from her.

But even with all the emotional pain you endured, you returned to her side at the stream every day as she asked. Was it fear of her threats, or were you too addicted to her company to give it up? As long as you did nothing to anger her, she treated you with utmost love and touched you only very delicately, as if you were something fragile beneath her fingertips. And she was afraid of breaking you just as much as she feared losing you.

Maybe it was because of how violently it contrasted her anger, but you especially grew addicted to her smile. For someone who constantly suffocated in fear and worry, you wanted nothing more than to pull her out of it. Words of reassurance and affectionate gestures were becoming repetitive, so you figured out new ways.

Instead of coming empty handed one day, you arrived at the stream with an array of fresh flowers plucked from your garden in your hand. You always admired her long and lustrous hair, and suggested spending time adorning it with the blooms you chose for her. It was a silly gesture, and it felt almost embarrassing to offer up.

The glee and delight in her eyes, as well as her radiant smile, caught you a bit off guard. You had hoped that she would be pleased, but didn't expect her to be that thrilled. She closely inspected every flower — each one so new and foreign to her — and she lit up at you touching her hair. 

The way you gently ran your hands through her hair, pulling any strands away from her face and making braids along the floral decoration — it felt so warm and familiar, even if it was the first time she experienced it. 

That night, she begged you to stay overnight and sleep next to her on the bank of the stream. You couldn't object, and couldn't help the warm feelings that bubbled in your chest, even if you feared that she may be growing more attached.

Could you be sure that she wouldn't one day just refuse to let you go?

You wouldn't understand her perspective, you were only a human. And even if it was an unspoken accepted fact between you both that she was not human — she still couldn't open up to you about her fears and the feelings she went through.

As the youngest one of the nymphs, she happened to exist at just the right time where humans no longer roamed the woodland like they did before. Even if they did, they all knew to ignore any singing or call, to wear protection wards, to avoid certain areas. Such as the stream. 

Within that shallow seemingly safe water hidden beings dwell; wicked entities that can never be trusted by mankind. They appear to us as exceptionally beautiful horses, maidens and men — a trap meant to have us ensnared. Some call them fallen angels, depriving humans of their souls to pacify their pain and grief over the heavenly bliss they lost.

Never heed their call, their honeyed tongue, their lovely voice.

Never let yourself be lured by beauty you’ve never seen on mortals.

Never roam the woodland with no protection to ward you from their evil.

So many times did the elders repeat those words to their young, that even the hidden folk heard them.

But they weren’t so different from humans, they exchanged stories among each other as well. For the longest time, that’s where the nymph got her knowledge from. She heard of knights, ladies, lords, maids, and fishermen; she heard of how easily they trust, how taken they are by awe when the otherworldly spoke to them. 

When would it be her turn? To become the muse of an artist, to be gifted offerings and tokens of adoration, to be looked at with reverence, to challenge the resilience of a mortal soul? Will there ever come a day where she speaks to a complete human being, and not just their bones?

It was that villager girl who first fulfilled her dreams one by one, only to leave her with a gap way deeper than the former one. This one was abyssal, it stretched to no bottom, and nothing could make it any less cold. When you entered it, you were like a fragile lighthouse in the North Sea. You could only stay standing for so long, until the waves rise in a storm and break you down, letting your remains sink into freezing depths.

Neris caught the change in your behavior the very first day. Even with how subtle it began, she analyzed your every move and nothing slipped past her overbearing attention. You took a step back when she got close, tried to avoid being in the water near her, and for a moment you eyed her with something akin to… fear? 

The look in your eyes was enough to drive her over the edge. You treated her with wariness as if she was a monster toying with her food before hunting it down. She was sure of what caused this; and when you made an excuse to leave early, it only solidified her belief.

They got their filthy hands on you. They stole your innocent mind and corrupted it with their tales.

Your behavior was all too similar to that girl’s, right before she disappeared. And Neris was sure that if she does nothing, you will abandon her too. The damage this would inflict on her would be beyond measure, and she wouldn’t be able to endure the misery that would befall her. Knowingly selfish as she was, she would not tamp down her desires, nor the urge to eternally keep you for herself.

As soon as she got you in the water, a sense of comfort washed over her. Unbeknownst to you, the moment you let her convince you to follow her into the stream — you ensured a lock over all the doors that would allow you to return. 

She had your voice memorized in her mind, she didn’t need you to speak to hear any word you wanted to say. Even when your body changes and sinks back to the earth, she will have everlasting remnants of her beloved, of her one and only human.

Only at that moment did she finally feel at ease around you. The anger, worries, fear and desperation — they drained from her body and flowed with the stream alongside the crimson liquid that oozed from your head. 

You did not push back or lean away, but stayed so sweetly limp in her arms, the only movement of your body being the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as your lungs fruitlessly clung to life. Your eyes were half open, no fright or distrust left in them. The starry sky above you became a dark blur. You were cold, terribly so. Perhaps because of the water you were half submerged in. Even as close as you were huddled in the beautiful girl’s embrace, her hand gently brushing against your face and caressing your hair to comfort you, no warmth flowed in your body.

In your last waking moments, you could hear that musical croon softly humming above you — the very one that brought you where you were now. So enchanting in its melody, still with that quality of sorrow buried deep in its notes.

That lullaby led you to something that did not belong to this world, and now it accompanied you as your soul became foreign to this realm as well. 

Frantic prints sprayed upon the soft snow, left by your bare feet that were beyond numb with pain at this point. An old throbbing ache stung your leg, but you kept it moving with pure blinding adrenaline. Your lungs felt like they were tearing apart with each breath you inhaled — cold, sharp, agonizing. The sky was black as pitch, though the luminous white ground gave you enough sense of direction. Even if you had the luxury of choosing a different hour to make your escape, it would be of little use. You had no idea where to go.

You had no route; no plan; no knowledge of the forest. Unlike your pursuer.

Hares may even run with a destination in mind — a safe den to burrow into once they find it; a hole underground to leap into. You had few things in common with them, but not their agility, and not their familiarity with the forest ground. Capturing you was like a walk in the park in comparison, but you had to at least try. You won't get another chance.

The last time you saw these woods — the tree branches were not as bare, color and warmth still dressed your environment. You were never meant to stay there till winter. By this time, you should have been already home, preparing for your university midterms. As of now, your only focus was to make a turn every other step, trying to keep your balance upright while your body pivoted at every sharp angle change.

This wasn't your first time being hunted, you knew fully well not to run in a straight line.

A deafening blast roared, echoing across the woodland and leaving high-pitched ringing in your ears. You felt it slamming in your chest, your body jerked back violently as pure terror rushed through it. No metallic object infiltrated your flesh, but that did not mean you were safe. He intentionally missed, the first time was just a warning shot.

Now that you knew you were in his line of sight, continuing to run would be asking to get captured. Your best attempt at escaping would be to hide behind a tree, and pray he loses you.

Your back pressed against the bark as much as you could get it to, trying with all your might to shrink and disappear from sight. You clamped your hand firmly over your mouth, holding in all your ragged, shallow breaths. In all your best efforts to stay quiet, your heart did not cooperate. You could feel it thumping wildly in your ears as it hammered in your chest, and you feared he could hear it too.

You heard him calling your name. In spite of all your trembling, and the pleading of your legs to give out — you couldn't drop to your knees. You needed to be ready to run at any second.

"If you wanted to go out so much, you could've just asked me! You know you can't be out here on your own, what if they steal you away?"

If only they would. If only there really was a primeval spirit watching over you, who might just appear and whisk you somewhere far off from here. Then again, maybe there was. But they can't really do much when you have that rowan wood and red thread circling your wrists, ankles and throat. For someone who claimed to not be good at carving, he evidently improved his craftsmanship.

"I'm not mad, really, but you need to come out and come back to me. I don't wanna do this again — don't you remember how much it hurt last time?"

Your vision blurred; you could throw up any moment now. His voice only kept getting louder, you could hear the thumping of his boots on the snow growing closer.

"I know you're tired, I'm giving you a chance to not do this and come back to me without getting hurt. You'll still return with me before the end of the night, but I want you to do it on your own — safely."

The sound of his boots stopped just a few meters away, and you heard him heave a long sigh. "You know I can see your footprints, right?"

That was it. If you don't take off now, you'll never taste freedom again. Even if all the odds stood against you, and you had very little chance to make it out of the forest, you would rather die trying. You would not allow yourself to walk back to your captor.

All you had to do was run. Run in no straight line; turn at every step with no organized pattern, shift your direction rapidly so he never catches up. Just keep running. You will make it out of the forest at some point. Even if you don't — you will meet someone who can help you. They will know who you are without a doubt.

After all, every villager joined in the search to find you — until they found your shoes near a mushroom ring. It was very obvious to them who took you.

No one would ever suspect the sweet hardworking guy who tried his best to protect you, who led the search himself and got in contact with your parents, consoling them when the police barely made any effort to find you. Your belongings were not in the cottage, no dead body was found, and you were a fully grown adult. What were the chances that you were forcefully taken, and not gone by your own will?

The hidden folk can't lie. What an advantage it is to humans that they can say whatever they please.

A click — instant ringing filled and swelled in your ears. Your leg fell, forcing your body to collapse.

Cold and shivering as you were, you felt immense heat burning from the dull blow in your leg, and sweat began to trickle down your skin. Some other warm liquid oozed from your flesh, but you didn't even look back to see as you lay on your stomach. The smell of burnt powder made you even more nauseous. But you couldn't go unconscious now. You couldn't accept this to be the ending of your efforts.

You knew that you stood no chance, yet you still tried to crawl, pushing forward on your elbows and left knee. White-hot pain seared through you as you pulled on the dead weight that was now your right leg. You left a trail of blood behind you, and you barely even moved a foot forward. The sight was pitiful, really. Did you truly think that you could get away?

Tears pricked your eyes when you heard his footsteps. The taste of utter hopelessness was so horribly bitter, it sat heavily in your chest as you had to swallow it down. If spirits actually inhabited this forest, how could they do nothing to save you? Were you just another hunt they helped him with?

A strong hand gripped your shoulder and swiftly turned you on your back. You lay motionless while he crouched down near your leg, taking off his jacket and wrapping it tightly around your wound. Jolts of hot pain coursed through you the harder he pressed, but he didn't flinch at any sound you made.

"I really tried..." Theo said, crawling to hover above you with a sympathetic yet disappointed expression. "But I couldn't let you get too far. How would I be able to bring you back if they took you to their world?"

You should have just stayed in the cabin he built just for you, engulfed by rowan trees. He spent every time he could give away to you, baked you the most delicious meals, and gave you all of his love. Why did you run away the moment you got out of the iron chains?

His thumb gently brushed on your face, wiping the tears that rolled down from your eyes. "It's okay, you've got nothing to worry about. I'll bring you back home." He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a deliberate, long kiss that chased away any remaining thought you had about escaping.

You sat up, looking at Ira beside you, who played with a flower in his hands. "It's really late, we should head back."

Ira's eye twitched, but he tamped down his expression into one of neutrality as he leaned up forward. "Take my hand, then," he drawled, reaching for you.

Without hesitation, as you always did, you gave him your hand, which he held on tightly. Before you could get up or move at all, you let out a gasp of pain, wrenching your hand away. You looked at your palm, seeing a few scratches and one tiny bleeding spot.

Ira calmly threw away the prickly thistle in his hand, taking hold of your wrist. "Let me see," he mused as he inspected your palm, bringing it closer to his face. "I wanted to try the taste of blood for so long..."

"What?" you questioned, before feeling shivers coursing throughout your entire body as he licked the tiny drop of blood that pooled on your palm.

He frowned, clicking his tongue. "I can barely taste it," he mumbled, dragging the sharp nail of his thumb inside the cut and expanding it, letting more blood burst from it.

The piercing pain made you wince, instinctively trying to jerk your hand away, though it remained still in place. "That hurts!" you hissed.

"I didn't intend for it to feel nice." Ira taunted, smiling at your expression. He leaned his face into your palm, before pausing and glancing at you impassively. "Please, don't demand to go back again. I will bring you back when I decide the time is right."

Be grateful I'm bringing you back at all.

Your heart picked up pace in indignation, you felt your throat tightening. This was too much. You had to say something. At least, you wanted to, before your head stung with sharp thoughts.

Do you want to go back and be isolated in the cottage again? You have no one else, after all.

If you want to go that badly, then find your way alone in the dark, if you can remember how to get back.

You held back your tongue, glaring away at the flower bushes to not see his tongue sliding across your opened cut.

He sighed, finally releasing your wrist after cleaning up every bit of blood. "It's alright... (but to consume it regularly like some of them do? I guess it isn't for me.)" he murmured to himself at the end, knowing you got used to him occasionally talking in 'gibberish'.

Glancing back at you, Ira breathed out a laugh when he saw your face. "Don't sulk. It was just a small cut, and I even cleaned it up for you." He held your wrist and brought your palm back to his mouth, this time pressing his lips against it, in what you would eventually learn was his attempt of a kiss.

When he leaned back and saw that your expression was unchanged, he let out a huff. "Still sulking? Oh, well," he shrugged, releasing your wrist. "You have all night to feel better."

Your head snapped to his direction, fingers tensely gripping the fabric of your clothes. "What do you mean all night?"

Ira tilted his head, seeming all too clueless on why you would feel agitated. "I want you to spend the night with me here. I will bring you back in the morning."

"You are pushing it."

"What?" his face shifted to genuine confusion, unable to understand what you said. What was he pushing? He wasn't even moving.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your irritation growing. "You can't actually be serious... you want to sleep out in the middle of the forest? Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Do you have somewhere to be? Or at least, someone who would notice that you disappeared for a night?" Ira was sitting cross-legged, resting his chin on his palm as he eyed you with faux interest. "Would anyone even notice if you disappeared for a week? Or for months?"

That was uncalled for. You bit on the inside of your mouth, your nails forming crescent shapes on your (uninjured) palm as you ground out, "Yes."

Ira's lips stretched out in what looked like a smile of pity, yet his voice carried a sharp edge in it. "Did you forget what I told you about lying?"

"I'm not lying!" you snapped, glaring at him. "I mean, they won't notice if I was gone for just a night... but eventually, they will."

"What is the time span of 'eventually'? Is it days, is it years?"

"Okay. This is getting ridiculous," you deadpanned. "My family would notice if I was gone for years."

Ira let out a laugh, annoyingly melodic as usual. "That is a very low standard for 'family'. I would notice if you were gone for a few minutes."

"Of course, you would..."

"Isn't that enough?" He shifted his position, propping himself up on his knees and inching closer toward you, leaning in to your face. "Or do you want me to leave you alone, too?"

You looked away, your insides twisting. No, you did not want him to leave you for now, no matter what kind of weird shit he did. Who else did you have? You were practically not in touch with Theo anymore, and you couldn't contact anyone through your phone anyway. And who else would take you to places you've never seen, indulge in your passion, and keep you company in your isolation?

Even if someone else could do all of that, they would never take his place. Nobody else could fill you with such reverence and agitation at once, the feeling became almost addictive. You would just fall right back into that never-ending cycle of ruminating and daydreaming and going back through memories, just to see his face again.

When he saw you slowly shake your head, his hands took hold of your shoulders and pushed them down, letting your back collide with the soft grass. "Then spend the night with me, here."

Ira released you and went to lie down next to you on his back. "If you argue again, I will extend it to next night. Or I'll let you try finding the way back on your own," he murmured, his voice soft in contrast to his words.

You stiffened. "You are definitely not an angel."

"Leaving an offering..."

"For whom?"

Your brows drew together. "For the forest...? I don't know."

Ira clicked his tongue. "Pick it up," he said blankly and turned his back to you, walking toward the direction of the cottage. As odd as this was, you could hardly find it in yourself to question it anymore, and you picked up the honey jar and followed after him.

He stopped by the patch of violets that now grew outside of your cottage, and he pointed downward. "Leave it here."

As you crouched down to place the jar, your mind kept racing with unanswered questions. But it didn't matter. You didn't have to speak at all, it was his voice you wanted to hear.

"Now that you have started," Ira breathed, "You are expected to give something at least after every two sunrises. Only leave offerings in this spot..." He looked aside, almost hesitating for a moment before adding. "And put wildflower honey instead of this one."

You stood up, raising a brow. The shock of finally meeting was slightly wearing off, letting confusion take its place. Wildflower honey... two sunrises... Should you write this down? "...why do these instructions sound so oddly specific? Are you the one who made them up?"

Ira's grin reached his eyes, and he shrugged. "What if I was?"

"I'd ask you to make them a bit less high maintenance. I didn't consider nature's sweet-tooth in advance when saving up money," you said half-jokingly with a lighthearted smile. As much as you would have wanted to, it was true. You literally couldn't afford leaving this many offerings.

He scoffed, giving you a light push on the forehead with his fingers. "Offerings do not always have to be the same. They don't have to be material." He took a step closer, his hand stiffly raising to your head and patting it with a blend of uncertainty and an effort to be gentle. "You can just start by going in the forest with me."

In spite of yourself, you leaned into his touch, ignoring the twisting in your stomach. In your chest, however, warm feelings were flourishing in place of the former absence. Ira noticed the way you were looking at him with such reverence, and he pulled his hand back, opening for you to take instead.

"Will you come with me now?" he asked mirthfully, his lips parting in that same grin. This time, you pretended not to feel any of the unease prickling your skin, and paid great attention to your reaction as you held his hand.

His fingers curled, closing in on your hand and leading you forward. Wherever, it didn't matter. You knew he would bring you back, again.

But even if that barrier still hangs on your neck, you will take it off on your own some day.

There is nothing worth getting attached to in your life. I won't stop until it gets into your head.

One of the nymphs who leaned on a rock close to the one you would eventually come to know as 'Ira' softly interjected his story. She spoke in a sharply elegant language no human who still lived among their kind could understand.

"(I don't mean to interrupt you... but this part reminded me— why do you no longer bring your flute along? We missed hearing you play.)"

Ira silently shot her an annoyed glare, but held back his tongue. "(I've been playing too frequently, and for no good reason. I'm sick of it.)"

One of the men who had jade black hair down to his shoulders turned to Ira with a raised brow, his olive green eyes narrowed into slits. "(Do you not enjoy playing music? How can you hate doing something that you love?)"

"(I'm tired of playing for others. For how supposedly mesmerizing the sound of my flute is, they still treat it more as background noise than anything else. And I hardly get much in return. I don't like being used for entertainment like an object. For once, I want to subject someone else through that.)"

A nymph with kinky black hair and a soft frame let out a light chuckle. "(That's a little dramatic. You are no object to us.)"

Ira shrugged impassively, his expression plain. "(I'm not talking about you in particular. It doesn't matter. I don't want to play again unless it is for a good favor in return.)"

"(How greedy. You just prefer to play for humans, don't you? What do they give you in return?")

"(That's right,)" Another nymph, with short blond hair and a slender build chimed in, "(He just has favorites, clearly. That traitor!)" he laughed.

Ira rolled his head back, letting out a groan. "(Why are you all turning on me at once? Actually, you are right, though. I did prefer playing for humans for some time, but I don't like to do it anymore, either.")

"(Why is that?)"

"(Because it's exhausting! They give me too much of what I want. Every time I joined an event or celebration and played my flute for their enjoyment, they never seemed to want me to stop. Even as their feet bled and tears rolled down their faces, they would not stop dancing. It made me feel too guilty to stop, but then I would have to play for days till they finally all collapsed. I could hardly feel bad for them afterward, they did not care at all about how tired they made me.")

A younger nymph who had been quiet up till now finally spoke, her long bright brown hair flowing in the water and almost covering her entire body. "(Speaking of humans, I've been putting more effort into learning their language.)" She swam closer to the bank where Ira sat. "(If I want to call out for one of them to step closer to the water, I'd say 'get here', right?)"

Ira looked aside with furrowed brows, trying to remember if he ever heard anyone speak that way. ("It sounds unnatural, and a bit rude.") He shook his head. "Come closer. (Try saying that instead.)"

"Come closar."

"(No.)" He raised his voice slightly to sound more clear. "Come closer. (Say it again.)"

"Come closer."

Ira nodded. "(That sounds alright. But you should learn something else, there is no point in this. I doubt that any human will visit your stream again.")

The nymph tilted her head, looking up past Ira with a grin. "(Really? Then who is that girl over there?)"

He shifted to look behind, and his face instantly dropped as he saw you. Standing just a few feet away, utterly unaware of your surroundings.

"Come closer!"

Ira scowled at the younger nymph, his irritation growing tremendously seeing you only hesitate for a moment, before curiously stepping closer to the water, where you were sure that nothing was there.

The brunette giggled, "(They listen so well! And look, she has no barriers on her.)" She turned toward Ira, proud of how well she spoke. "(Wasn't that good?")

Ira rose to his feet, stalking over to stand right behind you while glaring at the nymph. "(I didn't give you permission to say that to her!")

("Do I need it? I can do what I want.") She slithered back into the water, slowly approaching you.

Shifting his gaze between you, the nymph, and the large rock that sat not too far in the stream, he hovered his hand around your arm. "(Don't do it.)"

The nymph stopped for a moment, looking at him with confusion. The other dwellers of the water watched on wordlessly. "(Why?)"

"(Because she will become nothing but an unmoving corpse.)"

"(She won't be able to leave that way.)"

"(She won't be able to do anything in general.)"

The girl's expression became sour, still trying to 'reason' with him. "(But it's easier to pretend that she is alive rather than to get her to stay.)"

Others eyed Ira with increasing bewilderment, as if something was genuinely wrong with him. They decided to finally stand up for the young nymph, questioning his behavior.

"(Why are you doing this now?)"

"(You are acting strange.)"

"(You never said anything about any of the other humans.)"

Ira's eyes twitched and he let out a sharp breath. It was the whole stream against him now; he hated being cornered with questions. He had no reason to lie (and no ability to do that directly), so he must give a simple, clear answer at once.

"(I want this one for myself.)"

The stream quieted down for a moment. Those who were interrogating and provoking Ira looked aside awkwardly, then turned away with indifference. Only the younger nymph kept glaring at Ira venomously, rage simmering deep in her bones as she moved slowly in the water, closer toward you.

"(You can have anyone you want. You have the whole forest, where at least some humans still roam. You said it yourself, no one will visit this stream! I'm not letting her go!)" She extended her arm within a second, pushing your foot back with her hand and sending you slipping forward to the direction of the water.

Ira held onto your arm, already prepared for this. He steadied your balance, before reluctantly letting go and stepping aside when you seemed immediately ready to leave.

He wasn't aware that the nymph would not give up after one try, and safe to say both you and Ira were caught off guard when you still slipped again not even a moment later, this time falling into the water. Luckily enough, your fall wasn't as calculated as before, and your head missed the rock.

"Fuck my life..." you mumbled in your drenched clothes as you sat up, unbeknownst to you that you were that close to losing your life. Until you saw the rock, at least.

Nobody seemed to notice you anymore as you got up and left. The nymph bitterly eyed Ira, whose shoulders rigidly raised up and down with each shallow breath, his long fingernails cutting into his palm as he stared back at her.

"(Did you not hear what I said?)"

"(You said not to kill her; she is very alive, and leaving because of you.)"

The other nymphs began feeling uncomfortable, and tried to ease the tension by getting Ira to drop it. You were still alive, after all, it's not like anything bad actually happened.

"(I said it very clearly, it couldn't be that hard to understand!)" Ira snapped. "(You wouldn't mess with any of my other belongings, what made you think this was any different? You directly ignored my words. Do you all have algae in your head? I will never play music again for deaf ears!)"

He turned around, stepping away from the streamfolk as they all stared at him with widened eyes. The nymph with jade black hair rose up from the water and followed Ira on land, calling out for him. "(What do you mean? You will come back, won't you?)"

"(Where are you going? Come back. You didn't even finish the story from earlier!)" Another older nymph cried out.

Ira slowed his steps, glancing back with a sneer. "(Get someone else to finish it. Find someone else to tell you stories, play music for you, and teach you new languages.)" He let out a huff as he stopped and turned to fully face them, his voice carrying a more taunting edge. "(But you would be lucky if anyone at all — from our kin or from humans — visited your pathetic little stream.)"

They didn't say a word. The black haired nymph froze under the weight of Ira's glower, what looked like genuine hurt showed in his eyes. Their stares veered from Ira to the younger nymph. The feelings of support or indifference from before turned into desperate urging.

The brunette's anger began melting down into deep discomfort. Her feelings toward Ira were still spiteful, but she didn't want her kinsfolk to hate her because of what she made them miss out on.

She swam closer to the bank, calling out for Ira in a flat voice. Forcing her face into one of neutrality, she stood up on her feet and took only a few steps closer. "(Wait. I know you are angry at me, but don't punish everyone else for it.)"

She breathed out a heavy sigh. "(I am in your debt. You may ask anything of me, as long as you continue to make them happy.)"

The anger slowly drained from Ira's features, his head tilting to the side in thought. "(You are not the only one I play for. If I were to come back here, you all owe me a favor. The stream itself and everyone that inhabits it — must fulfil what I ask when the time comes. If not, I'll never tread down here again.)"

The nymphs exchanged glances, baffled at the request. The blond frowned, staring at Ira with disbelief. "(You actually are greedy.)"

A snicker slipped past Ira's lips. ("You are one to talk about being greedy! I give you so much of my time and energy, and I scarcely get anything back. Not only that, but you disrespect my wishes as well. I'd be stupid not to take advantage of you!)"

"(I'll do it.)" The black haired nymph muttered. "(If they won't agree, I'll do whatever it is you will ask on my own.)"

Ira rolled his eyes upward, stepping closer to the nymph and lightly shoving his head down, prompting him to shut up. "(You are stupid. I want their favor, not only yours,)" he whispered.

The streamfolk mumbled between eachother for a few moments. Ira was beginning to grow impatient, considering to threaten leaving again, before one of the older folks called him, and let him know that they agreed to his deal.

"(One more thing,)" Ira added, "(Understand that she is not yours. Even if she stupidly comes back here in my absence, you don't have permission to interact with my human without my saying.")

They nodded, wanting to get this over with already.

"(Now, you're pleased, aren't you? Come back and finish the story already!)"

Ira's lips quirked into a grin, as he sauntered back to his spot near the water.

You shot him an incredulous look, leaning back slightly and pushing your hand up forward. "I can feed myself...?"

"I can do that too," Ira scoffed, not impressed by your ability. "Open your mouth."

Reluctantly, you ate the berry from his hand, a wave of heat crawling up your neck and cheeks at being fed like a pet. Your embarrassment was overtaken quickly by the sweetness of the berry as it burst in your mouth, the sugary juice trailing down your throat. It was baffling how such delicious fruit were left untouched to fall and return to the earth.

Thankfully, Ira only fed you like that two times, before gradually losing patience. Starting with handing the berries down to you, and then simply tossing them from where he stood for you to catch. Well, it was better that way.

You did find it strange though that he did not eat any himself. Maybe because he was too caught up picking them while talking with you? That seemed odd, but you did not enjoy eating alone with someone around you.

"Can you come here for a second?" you called out, which made him turn around and look at you inquisitively.

He took measured steps toward you, crouching back down to your level. His expression had been blank almost the entire time, but now there was a small glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. "What?"

You raised one of the berries he gave you up to his lips. "Open your mouth."

For someone who had done the exact same thing just a few minutes ago, he stared at you with discomfort and concern as if you were genuinely losing your mind. Or maybe he just felt uneasy that your roles were reversed for a moment.

The remnants of the plain, rigid disposition he had since you yelled at him up till now fractured. That familiar expression—widened eyes, grin flashing his teeth, came back much to your both relief and discomfort. His hand wrapped around your wrist and brought it closer to his mouth as he ate the berry you held. You had no idea what was so funny about what you did, but he stood up and walked back to the branches with a genuine chuckle.

It didn't seem like he ever planned on not being weird anymore, so you had to ignore this just like everything else. Ira continued to toss berries your way while talking, but at least now he ate some of them as well and he seemed more lively.

If there was one thing that truly ruined this place, it had to be the mosquitoes. While you savored the blackberries, the pests savored your blood. You had to constantly wave your hand and swat them away from your skin, and at some point, you made an idle complaint about it out loud to Ira.

"I know how to repel them," Ira responded to you from the end of the tree's limb, before eating a berry. He did not say anything afterward, and you thought that he actually had nothing more to add, not even an explanation of how to repel them as he said.

You turned to look at him questioningly, but he was already crouched down next to you. This time, he leaned even closer, holding your face in his hands. "Stay still," he muttered and pressed his mouth against your cheek, his lips slightly parted. When he backed away and released you, you had a small, wet and slightly dark purple spot on your cheek, as well as inky fingerprints from his stained fingers. Was that supposed to be a kiss? You weren't even sure.

Ira got back up without a word, leaving you stunned. He carelessly went back to picking berries, while a thousand thoughts raced your mind at once. You did plan on not going back to this way of thinking, but you couldn't help wondering if this was anything fae related. How else could you explain it? The idea was absurd, but you had no clue if there was some piece of folklore you were missing.

"Does... that repel them, or...?"

"No," Ira huffed, finding your question ridiculous. "They don't like the scent of lemon grass and marigolds, but there are none growing around us here."

"Why, what— then why did you even do that?"

This was the second time you feel such horrible embarrassment today, and it had to be even worse. You already knew the information he was telling you, yet your mind wandered into fairy tales instead. Some kind of plant scientist you were.

"I just wanted to see if you would object at all, but you really are accepting of anything I do."

That answer—even with how casually he said it—infuriated you. You had tried your best to send him anything but that idea while maintaining civility. Then again, you did brush off too many things, didn't you?

You shifted your position, turning to face Ira and lifting your feet up on the tree's limb. "Ira, would you object to this?" you stretched out your leg and swung your foot at his heel, making him lose his balance and sending him falling backwards to the ground.

The shocked expression he made as he fell was enough to satisfy you, but as his back collided with the soft grass and berries, he let out an airy laugh. "Why did you do that? You are odd."

What kind of question is that? "Um, yes?" you answered, perplexed and irritated. That had to be it, you wouldn't respond to any more questions.

"Let's play a quick game, and I'll be the judge of that. Just name the plants I point at, and when you reach twenty correct answers, I will walk you back home and stop bothering you for the night." Ira tilted his head as he saw your reluctant expression, narrowing his eyes. "What is there to lose? Twenty shouldn't be a difficult number to reach, if you know anything about plants at all."

You gritted your teeth. You didn't have to prove yourself to this man, but twenty was a ridiculously easy number for you. After all, you were surrounded by plants, and you had no trouble naming just about every single one of them. This could be done in a minute, and then you won't have to deal with him anymore.

"Okay... fine. Just name them, that's all?"

"Well... you also have a countdown of three. If you take longer than that, it won't count. But if you have these names in your mind, you can easily retrieve them within seconds. It's simple, right?" he asked, his sweet voice practically coaxing you into accepting his challenge.

A groan slipped your lips. "Alright, just start already."

Ira's expression lit up, that same grin that unsettled you so much returning to his face. He took just a few steps backwards, then swiftly pointed at a bush of wispy leaves next to a tree. "What is that?" he asked, and quickly counted to three.

"Bracken ferns." You blurted out instantly, then almost scoffed at how easy this was. It didn't take a specialized person in this field to identify a fern.

Before you had a chance to breathe, Ira was already a few feet away from you, pointing at the ground. "What's that?" he asked, following up with the countdown, which ended before you could even get there.

"I didn't even get to see!" you complained, catching up to him.

"Then follow me more closely." He responded to your complaint with a taunting snicker, before pointing to another plant.

The game continued on. What you thought was a simple challenge of calmly walking and identifying flora—turned to be a game of chase. Everytime you caught up to Ira, he hustled away again. You had to constantly remind him to stop wandering deeper and remain on the outskirts, and he would simply nod and point to the next plant, rapidly counting before you had a chance to see it.

Your mind told you that you can (and should) just stop and refuse to continue playing, but you had a prideful sense of satisfaction whenever his face dropped as you answered correctly. You were so caught up in it, you hastened your pace to stay one step behind him, your whole attention fixed on where his finger would point at.

He noticed that you were getting closer to twenty as you named the eleventh plant, and knew he had to make it harder.

"What's this? Onetwothree."

"I can't see shit in the dark!!"

You stopped for a bit, panting and trying to catch your breath after practically running after him.

The cottage, your brain reminded you.

Looking around you, you saw nothing but trees. You let yourself be carried away, and now you were right back in the forest.

Ira playfully called your (nick)name from a few feet away, and you knew you had to catch up to him. It wasn't even for the game anymore, but because you needed him to be able to return now.

Aside from not getting a chance to see the plants, you also struggled to instantly remember the exact correct name of more complex ones. You figured it out by slurring your words, blurting out gibberish that sounded close to your memory of the real name. When Ira would ask you to repeat yourself, thinking he didn't hear you correctly, you had enough time to recall the right pronounciation.

This worked the first two times, before he realized what you were doing and punished you by making the game harder. His bare feet swiftly moved across the forest floor, upon hills and inbetween trees, avoiding every barrier in his way as if he had the whole woods memorized.

You had to stop again, bending down and resting your hands on your knees. Your chest heaved up and down as you barely managed to catch your breath. "Where... where are you..." you sighed inbetween your quick panting.

"Turn around, girl."

You glanced back in annoyance. "I have a name..."

"Can I have it too?"

He was already moving forward before you could question him about that, expecting you to follow. Just four more. You will manage to do it. You had to.

It took blood, sweat and tears to add Jack-in-the-pulpit and false Solomon's seal into the count. Now two more were left, but your body had enough of whirling and stumbling on the forest floor. You couldn't steady your breath; you knew that if you continued moving forward, you were likely to pass out.

Ira paused as he saw you drop to your knees, your head hung low while you panted heavily. He went back, standing over you and looking down with a raised brow. "What are you doing?"

"Passing away, probably." You breathed out, still trying to express your irritation in your perceived final moments.

"Not as strong as I thought..." he mumbled, more to himself than to you, before sitting down in front of you. His legs were half crossed—one was propped up as he rested his hand on his knee.

He contemplated over something while you took this as a chance to rest. Your break didn't last longer than a minute, though. His voice brought your attention back up from the ground to him. "Fine... I'll make it easier. You have only two plants left. There are two flowers right here for you to find—one is on you, and the other is on me. There is no countdown."

This piqued your interest. You looked down at yourself first, scanning your clothes for any recollection of a flower on you. The confusion on your face immediately cleared away as a certain memory hit you like a train, and your hand shot up to your head, searching through your hair until it fell on fragile petals.

It was pretty impressive how that even stayed in your hair this entire time you turned and shifted about, but you didn't care much about that as you held out the pink flower for Ira to see. "Foxglove."

He shrugged. "Fairly easy, I expected you to find it quickly." You watched his face slowly morph into something purely devilish as he bent his knee down, inching closer to you. "Now find the one that is on me."

Your brows wrinkled together as your eyes slowly ran over his body from top to bottom, finding no visible flower. You held in your breath, propping yourself up on your knees and moving even closer to him to examine his hair.

He let you do that for a few moments, before letting out a chuckle. "No, not on my hair."

You bit down on your lip, holding your tongue from cussing him out. Sitting back down, you stared at the intricate fabric he had on his shoulder—what looked like a pelerine—and your hand began lightly touching it, trying to move it aside to see if any flower was hidden beneath it.

"I didn't give you permission to undress me." He laughed, causing you to instantly recoil, your hands backing away from the pelerine as if it stung you, which only made him laugh more.

"Is it somewhere in your shirt...?" you asked, unsure if some hidden pocket lay unseen by you.

Ira tilted his head, looking at you with amusement. "Why would I tell you? It's your task to find out."

A long-suffering sigh rushed past your teeth. This is the last one, you reminded yourself. You couldn't give up before finding it. You hesitantly pressed your palms against his chest, tapping around lightly to see if you felt anything. It was getting increasingly harder to focus under his sly eyes that bore into you while you searched.

"Can you close your eyes?!" you snapped, glancing up at him.

"Why? Are you planning on trying to undress me again?"

You were growing sick of this. A whirl of thoughts in your mind told you that there is no flower, that he was tricking you just like he had been doing the entire night basically.

He picked up on your frustrations, and decided to give you a little mercy. "Here is a hint... it can be unnoticeable at first glance, as it blends in to form a bigger picture."

"What kind of a hint is that... is there actually a flower at all? Or is this some kind of metaphor?"

After a long time of begging and praying, you finally stopped, realizing just how futile what you were doing was. You stared down at the grass for a moment, wondering if getting up was worth it, before a soft touch to your head sent immediate chills down your spine.

"Are you alright?" a honey-sweet voice breathed from above you. It sounded soft, but a little raspy as if woken from a deep sleep.

Your head slowly turned, you didn't know why your heart was beating so fast, it almost made you nauseous.

Your teary eyes tried to focus on what was in front of you, all you could make out in the blurry darkness was luscious long hair framing a slender face. You wiped your eyes with your fingers, wondering if your mind was already making you hallucinate, but you could only see him more clearly now.

A pair of upturned eyes blinked back at you, narrowing slightly as they honed in on your face. His features were delicate yet sharp—it reminded you somewhat of a fox. It wasn't something you've ever seen before, you generally never beheld anyone so enchantingly beautiful like this, especially a man.

The corners of his lips slowly turned upward in a bit of a choppy manner, he tilted his head and seemingly waited for a response from you. Despite his beauty, something about him felt uncanny; you didn't miss the subtly strange way he controlled his body and expressions. All of it made you even more unsure if this was real or not. Was this what it was like to meet an angel? The otherworldly loveliness did not mask the horror of meeting something unnatural, something that didn't seem human.

"Are you lost?" he finally asked with a raised eyebrow, finding no hope in getting an answer from you. And without waiting for another one, he bent down and held your arm, effortlessly pulling you up to your feet much against the will of your legs.

You stumbled back, the touch of his hand felt very much real. You finally found someone who could help you, but why didn't it give you any comfort?

He didn't even seem to notice your discomfort as he simply closed back the distance, the smell of earth and sweet violets coiling around you. One hand held onto your arm and the other slithered tentatively behind your back, briefly brushing against your neck and settling on your shoulder. Every move he made seemed like a clash of hesitant and premeditated, and you couldn't help but slightly cringe away again, your feelings conflicting between allure and unease.

His smile was entirely gone by now, and for a moment his expression fractured with confusion and mild annoyance. "I will help you find your way, don't worry, it won't take long," he reassured, and gently pulled you aside to follow him.

You had practically no other option, and tried to genuinely believe that this man will actually help you. Even in complete darkness, he seemed to have a faint radiance that allowed you to see him more clearly while you walked. His hair was a dark charcoal brown that coiled in waves down to his back; you couldn't exactly tell what he was wearing, but you felt a slightly scratchy dark fabric wrapped around his shoulders, his shirt was not entirely visible but his sleeve was heavily intricate with tiny details and embellishments. You looked down and noticed that his legs were half exposed, and his feet were entirely bare.

That reminded you—the agonizing discomfort in your feet was now completely gone.

Your thoughts were shortly interrupted as the man stopped, even though it had been only a few minutes. You were about to turn to him, before catching sight of the thin parting on the ground that expanded all the way forwards. A sudden wave of coldness washed over you as you realized you were standing on the very trail you've been searching hours for.

"Well..." Theo's nose wrinkled as he slightly scrunched his face. "Something I've been told about the hidden folk is that they're always trying to bargain and make 'deals'. We're told not to accept, of course, because they can also be massive tricksters. They can't really lie, but they'll twist their words beyond recognition and try to get you in on some shitty deal.

"So, say you pick up a flower that belonged to one of them. It could mean nothing, but suddenly it might become their most prized possession appareantly, and now you have to repay them with something else. And you never know what they might ask of you. I mean, of course that doesn't mean that you don't take anything from the forest ever, but you don't have any protection to prevent you from unfavorable situations. Which reminds me..."

Theo searched in his pocket, then reached out his hand to you. He was holding what looked like an amulet—the pendant was a wooden clumsy shaped circle, some curvy symbol carved inside that you couldn't discern, and the thread that it hung from was ruby red. "It's from a rowan tree. It protects from the fae."

You took the amulet and held it in your hands, taking in its design. "What's the carving in the middle?"

"Oh, I was just trying to make it look pretty." His lips quirked into a smile, gaze flickering away in embarrassment. "I tried to make it look good so you can wear it as a necklace, that way you never forget it. I didn't have much time though and I'm not the best at carving, so this is the best it turned out. It still does its job pretty well, though, so just for the time being... I'll make a better one at some point."

This got a small laugh out of you, did he think you'd throw a protection amulet away for not being professionally-made? "Yeah, there's no need, it looks pretty nice. Thank you." You expressed your gratitude further by wearing it around your neck, and Theo practically beamed.

"So... this keeps them away?" you asked, adjusting the pendant.