Snow, Sylvie called. Snowpepper, wake up! Snowpepper stirred then awoke suddenly, jolted by an indefinable sensation of difference. What was happening? Winkling and Quickfoot slept on, one wedged on either side of her, and she didn’t want to move suddenly and wake them.

Snowpepper, something’s about to happen. I don’t know what, but I have a feeling we should be awake now.

Snowpepper didn’t ask how Sylvie knew. Should I wake the others?

No. Let them sleep. I don’t think we need to do anything right now, but we should be awake. Whatever’s going on will have something to do with us. I… Sylvie’s voice in Snowpepper’s mind hesitated. I have a feeling. A strong feeling. We’re going to be needed.

—————

This was unexpected. Reality unfolded around her like an accordion opening, complete with chords of almost-music that she nearly heard. Everything expanded – exploded — she was buffeted by a storm of information. Herself expanded as well, until she was one with the storm, dancing on universal winds. Her ability to comprehend near-infinite streams of information effortlessly would have astonished her had she noticed, but she was too busy analyzing and correlating the bits of information against each other to wonder about what was happening.

Quickfoot’s grave words echoed in the room. Sylvie could think of no more questions to ask, and Snowpepper was frankly stunned. The image that Quickfoot had painted in her mind of the Stone at its peak struck a resonant chord within her. She felt she knew the Stone. She was struck by an insupportable longing to see it as it had been, to bathe in its lucent glow, to feel so beloved in the heart of Creation.

She began to cry, silently, which spurred a frightened Sylvie to attempt to cajole her back into hope.

Snowpepper, hey, don’t just give up on the Stone, she urged anxiously. Mother Maples will do something, I know she can, she can do anything, right? I bet she can fix it. She’s the Faerie Godwitch, that’s why the Queen came here, she knew she could help!

The faerie retorted angrily, Sylvie, leave me alone! I just need to cry! It doesn’t mean anything! Just let me be, okay?

Snowpepper sobbed openly now. Quickfoot offered his shoulder and she sank gratefully onto it, wetting his fur with copious tears. Chastened, Sylvie fell silent, alone with her fretful thoughts. Winkling sat on her other side, still and quiet, gazing at nothing. At length, she curled into Snowpepper’s side, receiving comfort from the closeness of warm bodies.

When Mother Maples at last emerged from her sanctum, she found the three asleep, curled together on a cushioned window seat. She paused and smiled sadly down at them. Then, quietly, she stepped outside to where the Queen waited, standing where she had left her, gazing stonily at the clouded, cracked Stone through the window of the portal.

At the sound of the door’s opening, Choleis started, then turned awkwardly to face her sister. “Well?” she said, her voice unexpectedly soft. “Have you learned anything of use?”

“Perhaps. But I have something to ask you before I can know for certain.” Her gaze strayed to the dim cloudy glow of the Stone, and she shuddered, her face twisting. “Oh, sister, my heart breaks to see it thus. How have you stood it?”

“I have not,” the Queen replied flatly. “I have not stood it at all. I am very nearly mad, I think. It is only the finest of threads that keeps me from surrendering to that madness, destroying everything I see and myself as well. You are my last and only hope, Chyseis. I am placing everything in your hands.”

The brown witch’s face did not change, nor did she acknowledge these words. “When did you first notice the change in the Stone?”

“When? What sort of question is that? You know that time cannot be measured here, unlike the other side of things. How can I answer?”

“Was it before or after you gave the otherside girl her safe passage?”

“Ah. I see.” The Queen’s brow furrowed for a moment in thought, then her expression cleared. “It was after. Right after. I first noticed it when I returned from meeting her.” She looked piercingly at her sister. “Why do you ask? Do you see a connection?”

Mother Maples sighed. “If the change had occurred before she arrived, then I would be wrong in my theory. But I seem to be borne out. Yes, I believe there is a connection.”

Swiftly, she outlined the events of the past day, since meeting the faerie and her otherside self.

“It would seem that she manifested the split within herself when she arrived here and her faerie self came alive. She had become even more distant from that part of her than most people on the other side do, yet the fey side is very strong, very pure. She carries a great weight of power with her, which she is utterly unaware of, and somehow her inner imbalance is affecting the balance of Creation itself.”

Choleis drew herself to her full glittering height, the gems she was festooned with trembling in the light, creating a jittery, dazzling effect. “Well, why do you delay?” she demanded. “Surely the solution is obvious! Send the chit immediately back to her place in the other side of the world!”

“I do wish it were so simple, my sister,” sighed the Faerie Godwitch. “However, I do not believe it can be. The child must be healed of her split before she is returned. To send her home now with things as they are would simply seal the end and doom us all.”

“And just how do you propose to do that?” Choleis’ voice was acid. “Surely you have tried! You’re perfectly notorious for fixing broken things. I can’t imagine you haven’t exerted your efforts on the waif’s behalf already, to no avail, it would seem.”

Turning aside, Mother Maples drifted through the garden, touching leaves and flowers at random as she went; her touch caused them to shiver and emit a vibrato hum of ecstasy. Choleis followed her, seething with impatience. At last, she seized the witch’s shoulder, pulled her sharply around and stamped her foot.

“Oh, Blessed Stone, Chyseis! What is in your mind? I have warned you, I have one foot planted in the quicksand of madness, I cannot wait much longer! I cannot abide this inaction!”

“Choleis, please,” murmured the witch, imperturbably removing her sister’s hand from her shoulder. “I must ponder silently, to feel deeply into the problem. It is my way. To you that may look like inaction, but it’s the only path through which I may receive the wisdom I need to discover the solution to our crisis. You must trust me. In this situation, wrong action is infinitely worse than no action.”

For a moment, the only sound was the harsh breathing of the Faerie Queen. When she spoke, her voice was raw and ragged. “What am I to do while you ponder silently? How am I to restrain myself? I am wound so tightly I fear I shall explode! I must relieve this intolerable, this terrible, this pressure, somehow! I am at an utter and shameful loss!” Oh Choleis…” An agonized wail of despair escaped her. “Please! I beg of you, help me, my sister!”

And then, a stunningly unprecedented event occurred. Like a felled sequoia, the imperious Faerie Queen sank to the ground where her hard-held controls broke. She shrieked and howled, sobbing wildly, spasmodically yanking clumps of greenery with her fists, writhing in a tempest of unleashed emotion. Chyseis knelt, lay her hand on her sister’s heaving shoulders and murmured into her ear, “I believe you have found the solution, my dear Choleis. You are right, the pressure must find release. You are doing wonderfully. I am here. It’s all right.”

The Queen turned to face the portal, her elegant features still as stone. Snowpepper wished mightily that she were somewhere else. Her terror of the Queen had not lessened in the slightest.

I wish I was out instead of you, grumped Sylvie. I have some things I’d like to ask her. She doesn’t scare me.

You wouldn’t dare! Snowpepper was appalled. I’m glad you’re not the one then! You would just make her mad. I don’t think it’s hard to make her mad at all. And then when she saw us again, poof, we’d be toads or something.

Well I’m sick of watching everything from the back room of your brain, Snow! This is really hard for me! I have no choice at all, I feel like I’m watching television, only I’m inside it and it affects me! It’s not fair! If Sylvie could have cried in that moment, she would have. She realized that she had been enjoying watching the show from inside Snowpepper, and that shamed her. Now, her enforced observer role felt claustrophobic. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t even draw a breath on her own. Snowpepper was in complete charge of their body.

Snowpepper, feeling Sylvie’s distress, was immediately contrite. Oh, Sylvie, I’m so sorry! I know it must be hard for you. Maybe it would be better if you were the one instead of me. I’m not very smart at all and, well, you’re right, it’s not fair. I wish it was different!

Oh, Snow, Sylvie said. You don’t have to apologize for everything, you know. It’s not your fault. It’s probably my own fault. I did it in the first place. I should be out there with you, being like one person with you, like Mother Maples says, but I’ve isolated myself in the back of my own brain.

This confused poor Snowpepper terribly, so Sylvie changed the subject. She wanted to think about something else, anyway. Listen, Snow, we’ve got to find some things out. Like what that Stone is, and why it’s so terrible that it’s cracking, and what that might have to do with us! Mother Maples says we might be involved, and the Queen said it cracked way more in the last day, while I was lost in that dream world and you had to come get me. That seems important. Are you sure you don’t want to ask the Queen what’s going on?

Oh no, Snowpepper said, agonizing. No, I… I couldn’t, no, Sylvie. Please don’t ask me to.

Well… Sylvie thought. I bet Winkling and Quickfoot know something. They look like they’ve been told they’re about to die. They must know why it’s so bad that the Stone is cracking. Let’s talk to them.

Let’s go in the house, though, Snowpepper said.  I don’t like being so close to her.

Sylvie agreed. Snowpepper tried to catch Quickfoot’s eye, but he sat staring blankly at the Stone, looking utterly devastated. Winkling, too, seemed dazed, and her rich black skin had blanched to a sickly ashen grey. Failing to get their attention, Snowpepper finally tapped each on the shoulder. When they glanced her way, she gestured toward the door, fearing to make any sound in the presence of the Queen, who stood rigidly with her back to them, not having moved a muscle since the witch had left them. Snowpepper stood and slipped into the house, hoping the others would follow.

Once inside, she felt immediate relief. The air itself seemed more breathable. The terror she felt in the Queen’s presence abated and she was able to relax, though she still felt hushed and restrained.

Behind her, Quickfoot and Winkling followed quietly, closing the door behind them. They too seemed relieved to have escaped the overpowering presence of the Faerie Queen.

“So, what do you guys know about that Stone?” Snowpepper asked, on Sylvie’s prompting. “Why is it so horrible that it’s cracking? What’s going on?”

“Oh, dear Snowpepper, I hardly know where to begin,” the rabbit sighed. “The Stone… well, it’s the heart of all Creation, that’s what it is, but it’s very difficult to explain to a newcomer. You have to have seen it, before this, to really understand.”

“How come? What was it like?”

“It shone,” Winkling whispered, her face tragic. “It shone like…like a star, with such a light. It shone, and it… it sang, it spoke to you, it loved… I can’t describe it. It was home, and life, it was our Mother and Father, it knew us. Whoever we were.”

She stifled a sob. “I didn’t know… the Queen had covered it, I guess when it started to look cloudy, and wouldn’t let anybody go near. She was trying to hide what was happening, so nobody knew.” Her tiny shoulders shook and tears streamed from her eyes.

Snowpepper, appalled, looked to Quickfoot for understanding.

“What does it mean that it’s cracking now?” she asked. “What’s happening?”

“I fear to speculate,” Quickfoot said softly. “But I do know that Stone was the heart of ALL Creation, not just this place. The other side, too, beat to its rhythms and bathed in its light. I could feel it, once I had seen it, always, wherever I was. I thought to take you to see it before we went home, dear faerie. You would have liked that. But now… oh, little Snowpepper, this may be the end of all things.”

As swiftly as it had occurred, the moment passed. The Faerie Queen, golden, glittering and haughty, glared at her sister, daring her to comment on her momentary weakness. The brown witch merely waited, impassive as ever.

“Will you tell us why you have come, Choleis?” Mother Maples asked gently. “If I can help, be assured that I will.”

“You had better help, Chyseis,” the amber eyes flashed fire. “You had better, or we are all doomed.”

Snowpepper, Winkling and Quickfoot exchanged swift looks. What could this be about?

“Please explain, sister. I am not in the mood for guessing games,” the witch said flatly.

“This is no game! Do I look like I’m playing?” The chiseled features were a study in strain. “No, sister, I come to you humbly, I come begging, and you must surely know that only the threat of utter and total destruction could so bend me toward you after all these eons.”

“Yes,” Mother Maples sighed. “You must excuse my impatience, Choleis. I’m afraid I’ve had a rather difficult day myself with little time for rest. Do, please, continue. What is happening?”

“The Stone has darkened. It clouds from within and…” Choleis’ breath hissed, short and sharp. “And it has a crack in it. It splits further each day. I can do nothing to heal it. It is the end, unless you can help.”

Snowpepper jumped, shocked by Mother Maples involuntary cry of despair. Her heart spasmed in her chest. It must be dreadful news indeed, to wrench such a sound from the placid dark figure.

“No! You are mistaken—surely—this cannot be—“

“I am not mistaken, Chyseis. I could not be mistaken. It is too obvious. View it for yourself.”

Stepping away from the Portal, she turned toward it, sweeping her arm dramatically toward it. “See!”

Through the Portal, a great crystalline stone could be seen. It was irregularly shaped, but there could be no mistake. Its normally clear interior had become clouded and smoky, and a slender, zigzag-shaped crack cleaved nearly halfway through its heart.

“Oh, my dear, oh…I…” Chyseis, trembling, clasped her hands over her heart and closed her eyes. A single tear stole slowly down her cheek. The awed onlookers were shaken more deeply than ever by this evidence of their extreme peril.

“Please, Chyseis,” the golden Queen said harshly, “do not give way to despair! I need you—we all need you—to rise to this occasion. You are the only one who has the slightest chance of averting this disaster!”

“You must give me a little time, Choleis. It is necessary.” Then the witch wailed, “Oh, why did you leave this so late? The damage is so far advanced! Why did you not send your messenger directly?”

Stung, the Queen pulled into herself slightly. “I see now that I ought to have. But it did not seem to be advancing this quickly. Until yesterday, the clouding was barely discernible, and the crack also. Something has happened overnight. Now, the crack advances a little more each hour. I fear there is not much time left.”

“All right.” Mother Maples closed her eyes briefly, and then said, “I must be alone for a little time, to meditate on this problem. I will return when I can.” Before the Queen could respond, she turned in a swirl of brown velvet and vanished into the house.

The faeries and the rabbit sat quietly, subdued by Mother Maples’ intense silence. She stood poised, facing the portal, hands clasped in front of her thighs. She seemed prepared to stand that way forever. She was patience personified, Sylvie thought, almost as if she truly were carved from chocolate.

After a few moments, Winkling began to whisper to Snowpepper and Quickfoot, her suppressed nervous energy manifesting as a compulsion to talk.

“You see,” she said, “the Queen doesn’t normally need a portal on the receiving end when she travels this way. She has the power to go wherever she wants to, except here. She doesn’t have any power at all in the Fairy Godwitch’s demesne, so she has to have help to be portaled here, and so does anybody else who wants to come here from the Queen’s Court.” Winkling grinned wickedly. “You can bet she doesn’t like that one bit!”

Her speech halted abruptly when she noticed a glow beginning to grow in the portal’s mirrored face. “Hst! She’s coming!”

They watched breathlessly as the glow intensified to a brilliant golden haze that misted over the details around it, clouding even the brown witch’s dark outline in fuzzy radiance. Moments later, a long, slender, bejewelled hand tipped with glittering two-inch nails emerged from the golden haze, followed in short order by the rest of the Queen. She entered in full stride, eyes wide and chest heaving, mouth open to speak, but was brought up short by the sight of Snowpepper and Quickfoot.

“Who are these, and why are they here?” she demanded imperiously. “Send them away, Chyseis. We must speak privately.”

“I prefer to have them remain, Choleis,” the brown witch responded imperturbably. “I sense that they hold a key to the issue you have come about. Their presence will prove beneficial, I have seen it. Please, suffer them to stay.”

The haughty golden figure sniffed, only slightly mollified. She looked sharply at Snowpepper. “Ah, yes; it’s the othersider chit. I do remember her. And the rabbit, of course.” She sighed impatiently. “Very well, if you must have them stay, Chyseis, I’ll not argue.”

Then, her eyes caught on the silent, expectant gaze of her sister and she went momentarily mute. Her mouth moved soundlessly; for a fleeting moment, her eyes, nakedly vulnerable, betrayed desperate terror. Seeing this, Sylvie felt a thrill of shock that shivered through her own and Snowpepper’s awareness. Sylvie, I’m scared, Snowpepper whimpered silently. The Queen isn’t supposed to be afraid. She’s supposed to be what we’re afraid of. I don’t want to know what could scare her!

Sylvie was inclined to agree with her otherside self.

Winkling shrugged her tiny shoulders. Sylvie thought she looked rather like a black winged Barbie doll, all joints and angles.

“Oh, you know how talk goes,” the faerie said, waving her hand deprecatingly. “You never know what to believe. But the rumour I heard was…” She glanced to either side and gestured to Quickfoot and Snowpepper to move in closer.

“I heard that something dreadful is happening to the fabric of reality,” Winkling whispered. “And that it’s caused by something happening on the otherside. Something the Queen… can’t stop!” Her eyes widened to eclipse her face and she hissed the last two words dramatically.

Snowpepper’s brow crinkled. “What’s that mean, the fabric of reality?” she asked, in a conversational tone.

The little black stick-figure rounded on her, waving her hands wildly. “Shhh!! Be quiet! It’s a secret! If I’m caught talking like this, why, who knows what will happen to me! The Queen could turn me into a flea and put me on a dog!” Winkling was visibly agitated enough to convince Snowpepper to lower her voice.

“Well, if it’s just a rumour, then how do you know it’s secret? You don’t even know if it’s true! What are you so scared about?” she whispered.

Winkling shook her head emphatically. “I’ve already said too much. You’re not allowed to talk about the Queen that way, you see. She can do anything. She is all-powerful. So nothing bad could be happening. Do you understand? If it’s happening, and she can’t stop it, then it reflects on her. If we talk about it, that reflects on her too. It’s just not allowed.”

“Dear me,” Quickfoot muttered. “Yes, I understand completely. Please do say no more, Winkling dear. Not a fruitful avenue for speculation, no indeed.” Nervously, he mopped his furry brow with a kerchief pulled from his waistcoat pocket. This one, Sylvie noted, was a pink and blue plaid with piped trim.

This Queen sounds kind of loopy, Sylvie muttered to Snowpepper. But you better not say that out loud!

Snowpepper nodded solemnly. Okay, she agreed. I’ll be careful. Winkling is really scared! And Sylvie, I’m scared too. The Queen… she scares me so much… remember?

Sylvie remembered all right. That was how they had found their way to the Faerie Godwitch’s house in the first place. If Snowpepper hadn’t been mindlessly terrified of the Queen, they might have gone straight to her Court instead. Everybody in this place seemed to be scared silly of the Queen, with the possible exception of Mother Maples. For the first time, she began to feel uneasy about the Faerie Queen herself.

Just then, the door opened and a clear-eyed and rested Mother Maples bustled out. “Hello, my dears. My sister the Queen will be arriving in a few minutes and it is well for us all to be prepared. This is a rare and special event! As a matter of fact, it’s the first time in my memory that she has set foot in my demesne.”

She noted their solemn, frightened faces and smiled. “Young ones, you needn’t look quite so apprehensive! You see, the Queen shall be quite powerless while she’s here. It’s the chief reason she does not like to visit, although admittedly, there is little love to motivate her. You are safe from her spells under my roof! Mine is the only functional magic in my own demesne.”

When they sighed with glad relief, she caught their attention with a stern gaze. “However, it would be a grave error to allow yourselves to become complacent! My sister Choleis has a long reach and a longer memory. You would do very well not to offend her! Do, please, be afraid, if that will help you to speak and behave with due care.”

“Now,” she turned away, speaking as she walked, “The portal will be established here in the garden. The Faerie Queen abhors the indoors and will not abide for a moment within walls. So I must prepare the space here.”

A great, polished gilt mirror floated out the door, directed by Mother Maples’ waving, guiding hands. She placed it carefully at the edge of the small grassy area, and then turned to them.

“Now, children, please, I require your uttermost silence while I prepare the portal.”

When they had settled down and indicated their readiness with nods, she turned to face the great mirror. The air seemed to thicken around the three observers, making their breath shallow and panting.

“Light of day and dark of night
shadows bleak and candle bright
green of grass and blue of sky
gate of grace shall open wide!”

Once she finished reciting this rhyme, the witch spoke commandingly. Sylvie couldn’t make out what she said, but it didn’t sound like English. There were a lot of syllables and strange guttural growls and high trills. It sounded almost like music. The hair at the back of Snowpepper’s neck lifted and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms.

There was a sharp, booming clap like thunder, then the feeling of intensity receded and the world restored itself to what passed for normality.

“There,” the brown witch smiled, turning to the little group. “The portal has been prepared for her arrival. All we need to do now is wait.”

Choleis’ haughty glittering face faded away, and the brown witch was left gazing into a brimming bowl of clear water. Sighing, she emptied the bowl carefully back into the ewer from which it had been poured and returned the room to order.

As she stood, she wobbled slightly.

“My, my,” she murmured to herself, placing a steadying hand on the back of the chair she had been sitting in. “I’m not without limits, after all.” She sank heavily into the easy chair from which Snowpepper had embarked on her dream journey. Her eyes closed. “Just for a moment, that’s all,” she told herself. “A moment is all I’ll need.”

In the garden, Snowpepper and Winkling were engaged in a flying game. Their swift, complex manoeuvres made Quickfoot’s head spin to watch. He felt so agitated and restless he couldn’t focus. The air felt thick, heavy, and pregnant. He had never thought of himself as a particularly sensitive rabbit, but now his whiskers twitched with tension. Something’s up, or about to be, he thought. I’ve never felt a portending this strong before. Oh dear, I wonder what it will be? The fur on his back rose and fell with tingling waves of sensation. He was terribly frightened.

He stood and began to pace back and forth. At length, Sylvie noticed him, between dizzying swoops, and said, Hey, Snow, something’s up with Quickfoot. I think we should talk to him. She had been enjoying the game, like a rollercoaster ride over which she had no control, but seeing Quickfoot’s agitation awakened her to an uneasy feeling, tickling at the back of her own mind ever since she and Snowpepper had returned. When Snowpepper, intently focused on the game, didn’t respond she prodded her more strongly. Snowpepper! Hey! Come on, we have to talk to Quickfoot! Something’s wrong!

Oh, all right, Snowpepper said crossly. You don’t have to yell! “Okay, I’m finished now, Winkling,” she called. “It was fun—thanks!”

She alighted next to Quickfoot and the black faerie followed behind. “What’s the matter?” Winkling demanded in her piping little voice. “Why’d you stop?”

“I wanted to talk to Quickfoot,” she explained. “Hey, Quickfoot, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, my, I don’t mean to worry you, dear faerie,” Quickfoot said, wiping his furry forehead with a purple polka-dotted handkerchief. Stuffing it back into his waistcoat pocket, he went on, “I just can’t seem to relax. I feel so terribly tense, as though something dreadful were about to happen, but I can’t be certain what it is.”

“Oh…” Winkling said, quietly as if to herself, “I think I know what it is.”

“What?”

“It’s the Queen. She’s coming here. Something’s bad wrong and that’s why. She never comes here.” Winkling darted nervously about in the air like a dragonfly. “It’s unprecedented. They hardly ever meet in person. She sends messengers or talks remotely. I don’t know what it’s about,” she hastened to add, forestalling questions, “I’m just a low-ranking messenger. I’m not taken into the Queen’s confidence.

“Still,” she added thoughtfully, slowing her darting flight, “one does hear things.”

“What have you heard, small faerie?” Quickfoot asked. “Please, it will give us something to think about if nothing else. Will you share your thoughts with us?”

“I had my reasons, Chyseis,” the Faerie Queen said coldly. “Do not attempt to distract me with nonessentials. Something has taken place that gravely threatens both of our realms and I require your assistance. I trust that your famous sense of responsibility combined with what mortals call ‘enlightened self-interest’ ought to compensate for any reluctance you might feel about being forced to work directly with me.”

“What is the nature of  the emergency?” the brown witch asked, pointedly ignoring the rest of what had been said.

“I must speak with you directly. Matters are too dire to risk distortion or leakage through the ethers. Will you come to me?”

Chyseis smiled ruefully. “Alas, my dear Choleis, as you are surely aware, I must remain confined to my own domain. It has been ever thus. If we are to meet, you must sully your slippers on my own soil.”

The slit-pupiled golden eyes narrowed. “I did know that such must be your response, of course. Still, on your soil, I am powerless. Your passive, watery magics smother my flame. Only in extremity would I venture there.” She closed her eyes, then opened them. “Will you swear upon our sisterhood that I shall come to no harm while helpless in your realm?”

“All who enter my domain are under my sworn protection, sister, without exception.” Her chocolate features softened. “Including yourself. You are welcome here.”

“Very well. I shall come within the hour. Please ready the portal.”

“Do you wish the faerie Winkling to be ported home before you come, or shall I ask her to stay here pending your arrival?”

“She may return if she so desires.”