22.
PRESENT DAY

"There you are," said Rowan, looking up at Lotte from where she was perched on Maloru's highest branches. "Are you really going to miss the chance of sleeping in an actual bed?"

Lotte shook her head, coming out of her thoughts.

"You do sleep in beds, right?"

A bed was an attractive prospect, even at a time like this. Lotte began to slide down from branch to branch. She leapt the last few meters right to the ground, landing on her toes with her knees bent.

The jump should've hurt. It shouldn't have made sense.

The feeling of apprehension from earlier mounted again. What kind of enchantment had Lotte really put on herself? This illusion wasn't illusionary enough.

She longed to talk about what happened, about all of it. She needed to talk to Maloru, but he wasn't going to be talkative for the next three days.

She wished she could talk with Rowan.

What if she couldn't fall asleep again and talk it through with Blue? She'd have to keep all this bottled up inside her, while the frustration and guilt ate at her heart. Somehow, this situation had been easier to handle when she was younger. Was it because her problems were simpler back then?

No, she had just been alone back then. Without anyone to talk with, she didn't have the need to talk at all.

"Uh..." Rowan said as they walked back towards the house. "I take it you didn't plan for that thing that happened earlier to happen?"

Lotte shook her head.

"You know," Rowan whispered, leaning into Lotte. "I've never seen a real elf before. But...I think you've outdone yourself. You should've seen yourself in there. Your eyes were red and glowy and your hair moved...like it was made out of snakes. There was something in the air around you. Honestly, I don't know how to explain it. It was terri—" Rowan closed her mouth with a snap.

Terrifying. She was about to say terrifying. Lotte was terrifying.
Lotte hung her head.

"Hey," Rowan tentatively reached out and patted Lotte's arm. "It's not your fault. I wish I was terrifying. And I think the elf you is cool."

They encountered Igador in the upstairs corridor on the way to their room. He plastered himself against the wall to let them pass. Lotte looked at him from the corner of her eye. Yes, she could see his fear that hadn't been there earlier, but that only seemed to intensify that unmistakable look of infatuation in his eyes.

She locked the bedroom door behind them, as an extra measure.

Blue's tower room was considerably neat. The desks and chairs that usually inhabited it were gone. Instead, there was a rug on the floor by a circular hearth and Blue lay sprawled on top a pile of cushions, his fingers passing through the flames in the hearth, causing them to change colour.

He was lounging on his side in what Lotte was certain was a purposefully alluring pose. His wings were stretched flat over the floor, the lace on the top of his tunic was undone, revealing the clefts of his collarbones and his long hair fell in glistening locks against his sparkling cheek.

It was like he knew the particular aesthetic language Lotte liked. It was too perfect—too effective—to be anything but intentional.

Her heart began to race and her stomach squirmed when he smiled up at her, patting the cushions next to him.

"What's all this?" Lotte asked, sinking to sit in front of him.

He wasted no time, tracing her jaw with his fingers. "I was thinking...you need to do some relaxing."

"Relaxing?"

He was searching her face for something, and by his smirk, he liked what he found. He tugged at her wrist and she let him pull her down to lie opposite him—despite her heart somehow both clogging her throat and jumping up and down in her stomach.

"I wouldn't exactly call this relaxing," Lotte whispered.

"No?" Blue whispered back, arms wrapping around her, pulling her towards him. It appeared he was eager to continue where they left off last time.

A whole day had happened between then and now. Lotte had things she wanted to discuss with Blue—important things. But, inside all the turmoil, she found room to be eager too.

"Do you want to do something else?" he asked, still whispering. He was looking at her intently. So intently she almost forgot how to breathe.

"No," she said. "I want to do this..."

"And what is 'this'?"

"Stop teasing me..."

"I'm not teasing you," he said while smiling teasingly. "Asking an honest question..."

Lotte feigned irritation—or she thought she feigned it. She just wanted to kiss Blue but also she didn't dare to try to kiss him herself. "Do virata not kiss?"

According to his expression, this conversation was going exactly where he wanted it to. "We're very good at it."

"Are you?"

"So I was told..."

Lotte raised her eyebrows. "Should I take your word for it?"

"Do you want to take my word for it?"

Lotte lightly flicked his forehead with the back of her nails.  He was driving her mad. She thought she wanted to kiss him before, but had underestimated her ability to want. "Absolutely not."

Then she dared and drew up against him, body to body and lips to lips. This was a dream, after all. Inhibitions were as slippery as bars of soap.

He wasn't taken aback by her daring. No, not at all. He responded as wholeheartedly as a summer storm, arms and wings engulfing her, legs tangling with her own, fingers getting lost in her hair.

There was no space between them, not even a fraction. And his lips, oh, his lips. Firm and soft and wanting. She really hadn't known what it would be like, she hadn't imagined this kind of intensity. She didn't know desire was a steep path one could stumble so helplessly down.

When he let her go, she felt a mixture of dismay and bewilderment. Kissing him hadn't solved the problem of wanting. It only multiplied it.

She rose onto her elbow, inching away, trying to clear her head.

He lay down his head and looked up at her. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Your verdict?"

"I can't draw a definitive conclusion yet. I need another demonstration."

He caught her by the front of her shirt and pulled her down, on top of him. Her lips fitted right onto his. Was he trembling? Yes, he was. He was frantic. It was catching. Her fingers somehow wandered places, like they had a mind of their own. She could feel the smoothness of his skin beneath them.

"We should stop," he said, dismayed.

"No. Why?"

"There's a reason..." he said. "I forget it..." He was back. Or maybe she had pulled him back to her. They were still shaking, both of them.

And then separated again, out of breath. Blue burrowed his head against Lotte's heart.

For a very long time, neither of them spoke.

"I'm worried about this enchantment," Lotte blurted out.

"Which one?"

"The illusionary one."

"Illusionary one?" He rose onto his elbow, squinting his eyes in scrutiny. "Which illusionary one?"

Lotte gestured with her hand up and down her body and round her face. "This one."

"Oh Lotte..."

She did not like the sound of that.

"It's a transformation."

Lotte sat bolt upright. "What?"

"You transformed yourself into an elf. I thought...that was your intention..."

Lotte was too mortified to speak.

"It's not a bad thing," Blue said. "Self-transformation is considered one of the most difficult forms of magic and you did it without altering yourself beyond what you required."

Lotte looked at her hands. Long, slender fingers with sharp claw-like black nails curling at the end. Not her hands. These fingers were not as cushioned as human fingers. It wasn't as comfortable holding her paintbrush with these elven fingers.
She wrapped her arms around herself.

Blue grabbed her by both shoulders. "It's fading, Lotte. Even as we speak. You're not an elf. You're only a transformation of one."

"I don't even know what that means..."

"I think you do. You wouldn't be worried if you didn't."

Lotte nodded, swallowing around a lump in her throat. "It will fade."

"Just pray it lasts your visit with these cultists."

Lotte hadn't thought about that. If there was a chance these people didn't know to distinguish a Leilan Lotte from a Leilan elf, they would when she suddenly transformed back into herself.

But she could do little more than worry about that.

"There's something else," she said.

He gave her his undivided attention. It was a challenge for her poor heart.

"Another enchantment, on my back. Can you look at it?"

"Enchantment is elven magic, so my perception has limits...but I can try."

She was already turning and lifting her shirt. His fingers traced the design on her lower back. His touch both soothed and wound up her nerves.

"This looks very old," he said, his tone grave. "You've had it since you were a baby?"

"I don't know."

"Hm..."

"Do you know what it does?"

"Not exactly."

"Do you know what it not exactly does?"

Blue heaved a sigh behind her, flattening his palm against her back, but he didn't speak.

"Blue?"

"Maybe it would be better if we continued kissing..." he said.

Lotte wasn't opposed, not exactly, but why wasn't he answering her question? "What does the enchantment do, Blue?"

"It's a seal of some kind." His voice from behind her sounded strange, quiet and choked.

"A seal?"

"To keep your magic and human halves from destroying one another, I suppose..."

To keep her human and elven half from destroying one another? "How faded is it?"

Blue swallowed.

"Blue?"

"It's...almost gone. It looks like it's vanishing by the second."

"And what will happen when it vanishes?"

"I don't know..."

"Blue, please tell me." She turned around.

The look on his face sent a chill down her spine. He stared ahead in horror, tears running down his cheeks. His tears, she was surprised to see, were oddly human-like. She leaned forward and kissed them off his cheeks, though more were coming.

They were wet, and sweet.

He grabbed her into a fierce embrace.

"Blue?" she said after a moment. "What's wrong?"

"Lotte," he said into her hair. "I think that when that tattoo fades..."

His voice trailed away. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"When that tattoo fades, you'll die."

***
9 YEARS BEFORE THE WAR
Little Lotte continued to sit on the sandy ground next to Melony as more cars and more men arrived.

There was one man who had a flashing camera and took photos of everything, another one lifted the gun with tongs and put it in a clear plastic bag. They milled about her, each one focused on their task and none of them seeing her.

Lotte began to think that she truly disappeared. Maybe she was dead—a ghost.

But, for a dead girl, she sure had a lot of aches and pains. On top of that she was very thirsty and desperately needed to pee.

Eventually she went behind the cars, frantically trying to stay hidden, even though she was invisible.

When she returned, there was an ambulance and two paramedics were transferring Melony onto a stretcher. "So much blood," one of them mumbled, gaze on the ground where Melony had lain.

But there wasn't any blood, just pieces of broken porcelain.

"Look at the blood smear," said a detective when the paramedics wheeled Melony away. "It looks like he shot her from behind and then turned her over to see that she was dead."

Another man wrote that down into his notepad.

All these people could see blood that wasn't there, except Lotte.

So maybe it was her who was the problem.

Still, ghost or not, she couldn't stay here and didn't know how to get back to the city.

Melony was mounted into the ambulance. Lotte looked at the open doors and bolted towards them, hopping inside just as one of the paramedics slammed them shut.

They were taken to the Faraust University Hospital, the big one that was in the centre of Raidox. Lotte had never had cause to visit a hospital before. The ambulance rounded the large building on a small road that went below ground. There, a large metal door was opened.

A woman in a blue uniform wheeled Melony down a long white basement corridor. Lotte followed them. The air was cool and something hummed constantly nearby. Melony was wheeled into a room called "Mortuary". They removed her clothes revealing her broken porcelain body. Unlike other dolls Lotte had, Melony's whole body was shaped out of porcelain, with clever twisting joints. They placed her on a long silver tray and threw a blanket over her, then zipped her in thick packaging. There was a long wall in the far end of the door lined with square fortified doors. One door was opened, bringing forth a swirl of mists.

Melony was pushed into the cold darkness, the door was sealed after her.

Lotte didn't know what to do after that. The people left. The lights were shut.

She sat on a single stool next to a cabinet of thin metal drawers. Her fists were still curled over handfuls of tears.

She waited, she didn't know what for.

After several long minutes, feet sounded down the corridor and the lights were switched back on.

"This way, Mr. Treeblad," said a man. And there was Mr. Henri. Lotte leapt off her seat. He looked terrible. He still wore what he had worn to the Vallisher's bruch that day, with the smart slate-grey jacket and the red cravat patterned with silver swirls. Though, she had never seen him look this ruffled. His dark hair—always so neat—was standing in every odd angle and the cravat was lopsided. His shirt was out of his trousers, and completely wrinkled. There was some kind of stain down the front of his jacket.
And his face looked older, eyes puffy and cheeks pale.

But surely, surely Mr. Henri would be able to see her.

She rushed up to him with a hug.

He stopped. His eyes swept over the interior of the mortuary as the woman in the blue uniform pulled Melony out from the fortified door.

For a moment, Lotte thought he'd look down at her. But he just continued walking, dragging her along, as if he couldn't feel her weight at all.

"No!" she cried. "I'm here, Mr. Henri! You have to see me. You have to see me."

Melony was revealed from her packaging and Mr. Henri stopped short. A strange wail escaped him and he doubled over, one hand clutched over his mouth. His body shook like a leaf in the wind as he sobbed.

Someone pulled up a chair for him. No one spoke. The woman who had brought Melony forward was blinking furiously. Mr. Henri rocked back and forth.

Lotte's heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Her tears began to fall anew. She barely had room in her hands for more tears.

A few fell on Mr. Henri, one getting lodged onto the collar of his jacket, another on his lap, a third one rested on the fold over his pocket.

"Mr. Treebald, I would just like to confirm that you identify the body as your adopted daughter Poppin Treebald?" said the man that had come with him.

Mr. Henri nodded, hand still clutched over his mouth.

"Very well. Take as long as you need. The coroner will be in touch tomorrow morning."

Mr. Henri nodded again.

Lotte put her had on his shoulder. He was without his bravado, without the facade she knew him by. This was what he was really like, what he had held in the privacy of his heart.

Mr. Henri loved her.

Perhaps not as a parent loves a child, not exactly. He had always loved her through her art, and even if he couldn't always see her for who she was, he was lost without her. In his mind, though her art remained, she was gone and he was lost.

Love was love. She was loved.

It warmed her heart.

And made her feel more alone than she had ever felt before.

When Mr. Henri got up to leave, she, unseen, unheard, unnoticed, followed behind him.