We've been moving through the woods for a long time now.
"According to what we were given, we should be close to Anghrian by now," Dorcha says.
"Yeah. It really shouldn't be far," he adds, a moment later.
They're both right.
The trees slowly thin out, opening into a wide clearing.
From here, the Village of the Sun comes into view—the first and greatest city of the gnomes.
It's easy to see why they call it Anghrian.
Every rooftop gleams the yellow of ripe lemon peel, and the walls are soft and warm, like the downy fluff of newborn chicks.
It's… adorable.
We walk to the edge of the cliff and look down.
Slightly lower, on the opposite side of the rock face, lies Orhàji—the village of oranges.
Farther down, half-hidden by wild brush, is Achgla, the village of green moss.
And if memory serves, descending toward the base of the cliff there should be:
Ochny, the village of lakes;
Farghe, the village of sea water;
Licy, the village of lilacs;
and Slavjia, the village of violets.
Lower still, stretching toward the sea, I can make out Lachlan, the village of the crescent moon; Olòs, the village of olive trees; Moirny, the village of open meadows; Bhanchy, the village of cherry trees; Monss, the village of blackberries—and finally, Olcyb, the village of volcanoes.
It's breathtaking.
I don't think I'll ever get used to sights like this.
It's strange to think that we can see all of it at once only because of a magical enchantment—
because without magic, reaching the last village from here would take months of relentless riding…
or weeks of exhausting flight.
Let's just hope Witch Fheall isn't all the way down there.
Still, there is one bright side:
with millions of gnomes living here, it shouldn't be hard to find someone who can help us.
"Aileen. You still with us?" Dorcha asks suddenly.
"Huh? Oh—yes. Sorry. Why?"
He points to a small house, slightly different from the others. Entirely yellow, with a soft brown roof and a tiny courtyard wrapped around it. Two oak trees grow intertwined beside it, and the house stands just before the village's entrance sign.
Smoke curls from the chimney.
Someone's home.
"Shall we start there?" Dorcha asks.
"Sure. Let's go."
I tap Raertha lightly with my heel and move forward.
The others follow.
-----
There's a boy in the courtyard—looks about my age.
Tall for a gnome.
Broad shoulders. Trained body.
…What's he doing? Sewing?
He's so deep in thought his hands seem to move on their own.
We dismount.
"Hi…" Aileen greets him softly. "May we come in?"
He nods automatically, not even looking at us.
That's odd.
Aileen and Grogher exchange the same puzzled look I'm feeling.
Well… let's get closer. See what happens.
I signal the others and we step into the garden.
"You look worried," I say. "Did something happen?"
No answer.
I place a hand on his shoulder—maybe the contact will—
"W-who… who are you?" he blurts out, jerking back on instinct.
Yeah.
That did it.
I step away immediately, giving him space.
Aileen, instead, moves closer.
"Oh—no, please don't be afraid," she says gently. "We don't want to hurt you. We're looking for Fheall, the famous witch of your realm. Do you know where she lives?"
His expression shifts in an instant.
Suspicious now.
His eyes narrow to thin slits… gnomes.
Easy. Stay calm.
"Why should I tell you?" he snaps. "You're not from here. Why are you looking for her?"
Blunt. Too blunt for my taste.
Still—if he says that, it means not only is Fheall alive…
he knows exactly where she is.
I glance at the others. They're thinking the same thing.
Aileen steps in. Of course she does.
What will she come up with this time?
"We're on a mission for your Sovereigns," she says. "It seems Princess Majory—their beloved daughter—has disappeared. The King and Queen believe that this gnome… Fheall… may be able to help us. But they couldn't tell us where to find her. That's why we're searching."
The effect is immediate.
All hostility drains from his face. He straightens, coming alive.
"All right," he says. "I'll help you. But on one condition…"
Of course.
Gnomes.
"And what would that be?" I ask.
"You take me with you."
…What?
Right. Because that's exactly what we need. Extra weight.
Grogher bristles.
As he should.
"Oh no, boy, ffff-orget it!" he growls. "It could be dangerous. Thisss is not a good idea."
But the gnome's posture changes.
He seems to grow taller. Stronger.
"It is," he says, voice steady.
Then he grabs the garment he was sewing and—
hugs it?
Is he completely out of his mind?
"This… this is for Meg. And to me—Majory isn't just the Princess." His voice trembles. "I love Majory. I can't let her die. I have to save her. If it were up to me, I'd already be gone—but my parents won't let me do anything on my own. Now that you're here… it's different."
He looks at us. Hopeful.
"Please. Let me come with you."
So that's it.
Love.
Yeah… I get that.
If Aileen—
"What's your name?" she asks.
"Asher."
Aileen signals for Sidae to come closer.
Ah.
I see.
Sidae pads into the courtyard and lowers himself—regal, immense—right in front of the gnome.
Lying down, Asher barely reaches one claw of his paw.
"Go on," Aileen says gently. "Pet him, Asher."
"He… he won't eat me, right?"
Aileen smiles.
"No. You're safe. Go ahead."
Still hesitant, encouraged by her gaze, he reaches out.
He scratches Sidae's paw.
Our great beast immediately rolls onto his back, demanding more.
So that's it.
Asher has a pure heart.
"Very well," Aileen decides. "We'll speak with your parents. If they have no objections, you'll come with us."
I sincerely hope they do.
But she's already given her word—and by extension, ours.
Asher nods, then turns toward the house.
"They're inside," he says. "Come in."
-----
I hear Milly's bright little voice before I even open my eyes.
"Come here! She's waking up!"
Footsteps rush toward me, voices overlapping.
I'm lying on a small couch. Something cool and damp rests on my forehead.
"Your spell worked, Fealsy!" Làidir says, giving him a hearty slap on the back.
Fealsy staggers forward, nearly losing his balance.
Làidir really should learn to be less rough sometimes.
"How do you feel?" Maya asks, kneeling beside me.
She looks worried. Truly worried.
I turn my head toward her.
Slowly.
My skull feels heavy. Too heavy.
"I… don't know."
My eyes sting again, filling before I can stop them.
"What am I supposed to do, my friends?" My voice breaks. "I… I can't kill him."
They exchange uncertain glances.
"Kill who?" Bumbling asks.
"Who do you think?" Assho snaps. "Her beloved, obviously. Keep up."
Little Beagy hops in place, clapping his hands.
"Oh! So you do have one! Well… you're so beautiful, I just didn't know you already had—"
"And he doesn't even know it!" Donny adds, bursting into his usual irritating laugh.
Yosho cuts in sharply.
"That's enough. Is this really the moment to be cruel?"
Please… not another fight.
"So…" Maya interrupts gently, taking my hands in hers. "Who is it? You can tell us."
Yes… I have to… but—
My face burns.
I was hoping I could keep this to myself a little longer.
I've never spoken to him about it.
I don't even know if he feels the same.
What if he's already promised to someone else?
What if he feels nothing for me at all?
…Does it even matter anymore?
According to the prophecy, it's enough that I love him.
Which means that even if he feels nothing—
to save my friends, I would still have to kill him.
Why can't I be the one to die?
Why?!
There's no point asking.
The prophecy is clear:
him, or them.
The very idea of killing anyone is unbearable.
"Well?" Làidir asks again, trying to sound light. "Who's the lucky one?"
I look at them. One by one.
It's hard to meet their trusting eyes.
Then I close mine.
"Asher," I whisper, the air leaving my lungs with the name.
"Asher? Asher?!" Donny explodes. "That Asher isn't even a gnome!"
I open my mouth to answer, but—
"What do you mean he's not a gnome?" Milly snaps. "Listen to yourself! You're just jealous because he's handsome and you look like an artichoke!"
"How dare you?! You little snake!" Donny snarls, grabbing her arm.
"Ow! You're hurting meee!" Milly cries.
In a heartbeat, Làidir lifts Donny off the ground by his collar and stares him down.
Donny goes pale.
"Listen carefully, little man," Làidir growls. "You ever touch Milly again—or insult one of us like that—and the dead one won't be Asher. Am I clear?"
"Y-y-y-yes—yes—please—put me down—please—hey—calm down—just—put me down!"
Làidir drops him roughly to the floor.
We all glare at Donny in silence. No one says a word.
He scrambles backward, putting as much distance as possible between himself and Làidir.
Bitter. Cowardly.
Rubbing his neck, he scoffs weakly.
"What an overreaction. I was just joking. And they say you're the good one… hah."
"Enough," Greanny says coldly, holding the sobbing Milly in his arms. "You only ever act tough with gnomes weaker than you."
Greanny is usually the one cracking jokes.
But ever since we've been trapped down here…
I've never seen him this serious.