Youngmeadow Farm – Sheryl, the Fae-touched – 22.10.2019

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Sheryl did one final check on Emily Youngmeadow, making sure the ropes were secured around her. She probably wasn’t the best person to do this – she was no knot expert and certainly was not a fan of this option, but the majority consensus was, until morning, she was to be kept under restraints and unconscious. They couldn’t risk her waking up inside the farmhouse.

The young fae woman had already said she would take Emily, along with Leek, to one of the temples in Darring Heights. Antonio had declared he would come with them, but Laura had insisted he stay with his family on the farm.

“I will send a message as soon as Emily’s curse has lifted, I promise,” Sheryl said softly to him. “You will be able to see your sister restored to herself soon.” He had looked thankful at that. In the meantime he was not leaving her side. She had left Antonio to watch over his sister whilst the rest of the household got some uneasy rest.

Sheryl had been smitten with the tall, muscular, handsome man from the moment she first saw him defending the farm from the goblins. He was no skilled warrior by any means, but he managed to hit some of the gobs with a pitchfork. Some might not consider that very impressive, but she thought it was heroic. But it was the love she saw he had for his sister, a caring and doting attention that only siblings could have that had impressed upon her the most.

Just like– the thought breaks off and she forgets why she is smiling to herself.

Antonio had stood with them when they had run to the barn to see what had happened to Emily. The wise druid had pulled Sheryl off to the side earlier in the night and they had discussed what, or rather whom, might have been attacking the farm. No one had suspected Emily until it was nearly too late. Antonio himself didn’t want to believe it, and yet he had found courage and the strength to once again face what many others would have run away from.

As she came downstairs Sheryl thought about the other person now dealing with the curse of lycanthropy and wondered how she was doing. Leek was such a beautiful person, a big heart and a bright smile. Sheryl liked her a lot. She was really thankful the full moon was only for one night and the night was nearly over. Though she felt her power growing the longer she has been in Kantas, such magics like removing curses that corrupted the essence of a person’s very being were beyond her. She could only temporarily curse creatures, a trick she had learned from her time in the Lady’s court. Maybe she could try to learn a bit of the way the spell worked when she took Leek and Emily to the temple…

Sheryl stops at a window, looking out into the night. So much has changed for her in the months since she left the feywild. Before she would hung back and thrown an inspiring word to the people who ran right into the thick of battle, or plucked a string of notes to magically insult an enemy into losing their footing so their stance would be off balance. Now she was the one diving into the centre of things. She had been instrumental in helping subdue Emily. It kind of took her aback if truth be told. She was no hero. She was just a girl with a song.

As she stands there, looking out into the night, eyes seeing more than the darkness beyond the pane of glass Sheryl recalls all that she has done.

She witnessed the start of a war between a nation of wind and a horde of giants being led by an incredibly powerful storm giant.

She travelled through the astral plane, walking through the lifetimes of an elf, a soul separated from his people for nearly two millennia, and helped him find his way home with her music.

She helped people flee their besieged city safely, managing to save at least some of its history and knowledge as it fell to ruins behind them.

She even has started playing in her first ever musical ensemble with her first and dearest friend since coming to Kantas and another bard of mysterious and handsome countenance.

So many stories to bring back to Her, she thinks with a smile. And yet…

As she gets lost in that thought her eyes alight on what her mind thinks of as a face in the trees, wood brown features and elegant horns. But either by a trick of the moonlight or blinking and missing it, when she focuses on what she thought it was, it isn’t there.

She gives her head a little shake and stretches her arms above her head. A yawn starts deep within her throat and extends all the way to her fingertips. After it runs its course she rubs her eyes, checks outside once more, then heads into the living room.

They had an early start in the morning. Best she get some rest.


Continued in ‘The Lifting of Curses’ 🦋