28.
PRESENT DAY

"Stay close to me!" Maloru screamed, pulling Lotte in against him and reaching for Rowan. "Stay in my protection!"

At the same time, Rowan was shouting, "The Rugar is the sky. It eats us! Don't go to the wastes."

"I said, the Rugar is.... The Rugar...."

Lotte grabbed Rowan's arm, pulling her close.

"It's not working," Rowan said, her voice a panicked squeak.

"How do you know?" Maloru said.

"Because it isn't. I can't feel my past. It isn't there!"

"Nothing can break my protection," Maloru insisted, still clinging to optimism even at a time like this. "Nothing can..."

"It doesn't have to break your protection," Lotte said. "It will just swallow it."

Even if they ran, the edge of the hand was so far, they'd never make it on time. Lotte had no enchantment that could save her, Rowan's future selves all ended up here. Was this their fate? Lotte wondered what was inside the Rugar's gaping maw. She could see only blackness, eternal void.

Fintan spun above them.
"Go!" Lotte cried to him. Why should he be eaten when he could just fly away? "Get out of here."

Fintan spun and spun and spun. He began to spin faster and faster, his movements blurring, until he was a Fintan-coloured ring above their heads.

He didn't stop there.

The ring expanded, flashing violet and blue with sparks of fuchsia and teal. The flashes of colour turned brighter, the sparks like streaking lighting.

The circle grew larger, encompassing more than just the air around them. Fintan now flew over the entire centre of the palm.

The Rugar hesitated.

Its mouth grew lax while it moved its hand—with them on it—towards its eyes instead.

The spinning circle began to slow. Lotte thought she could see a  bit of Fintan—his twisted horns, beak-like snout and the ridges of his spine—but something wasn't right.

He was bigger than he should've been at this distance. The bright colourful flashes weren't fading when he slowed.

The dragon that slowed to almost a halt was not pocket-sized. He was perhaps just large enough to fit on the Rugar's shoulder—if it had one.

Its scales—azure, teal, violet, fuchsia and every shade in between—looked like they were made out of colourful crystals, and they shone so brilliantly it hurt her eyes. It was fantastically, outrageously magnificent. It had a long body, like a snake, and a vicious snarl on its face.

The Rugar frowned at the slowly circling dragon and—reluctantly—began to lower its hand to the ground. At the last moment, it tilted its palm ever so slightly, causing the three of them to fall off into a mess of grass and overturned earth.

Lotte barely noticed, she scrambled to her feet, head swimming and eyes not leaving the spinning dragon for a moment.

Down it came in looping spirals. It seemed as if it was landing, but at the same time, it was melting into a single point. All that light, colour and graceful motion spilled together, into a smaller form.

A man of sorts, with cool-brown skin and a neat pattern of scales adorning his cheeks. His blue-white hair carried in the freeze, twisting over his small horns.

"Blue?" Lotte said in almost a whisper.

He smiled.

"Blue!" she cried, heart leaping with joy. What was he doing here? How was this happening? Lotte didn't stop to wonder, she just ran, stumbling over the overturned ground.

But then she slowed her steps. Was he really here? Or was this all a dream? She didn't dare look anywhere but at him because it looked like he would disappear.
He seemed...reserved, forlorn. "I knew all along..." he said.

She squeezed her hands together, the sound of his voice making her stomach tighten—she'd missed him so much.

"I knew all along how to stop you from dying," he continued. "But—"

"Were you Fintan? This whole time?" she asked.

"Lotte, listen to me." He ignored her questions. "You don't cure venom by breaking the venom, it's the same for a broken heart. I didn't do anything for you not because I couldn't..."

He began to spread and stretch. His colours growing vibrant, wings stretching. He was becoming a dragon again.

"...But because I didn't want you to share my fate."

The dragon rushed towards her, a streak of colour, light and power.

"Watch out!" Maloru cried.

She couldn't move out of the dragon's course. It sped up and crashed right into her chest.
It was like being hit by a waterfall, but instead of falling back, Lotte flew into the air. Instead of ripping through her, the dragon rushed into her.

She was drowning, choking. Her heart was on fire, her throat closed off. She could see nothing but the rushing light of the dragon's scales, hear nothing but the wind. Head, spine, claws, wings and an endlessly long tail, in a moment the sky dragon—Blue—was gone, filling her chest.

She fell down to her knees, coughing, gasping for breath, chest raw with unbelievable pain.

And all over her body, in her hair, on her skin, inside her eyes, violet lighting streaked and danced.

"Lotte!" Maloru cried, running towards her, reaching for her.

"Don't!" she rasped.

He froze with his hand in the air, eyes dancing in panic. "Lotte, what's going on?"

She opened her mouth to tell him—to tell him everything—but all that came out was a scream of pain. "I can't..." she managed, through gritted teeth. "Talk about it."

***
9 YEARS BEFORE THE WAR

After his conversation with Mr. Henri, the elf had to leave and return that same evening. Lotte wandered the house in her invisible state, wondering about what he meant by all the things he said.

She had taken her nightgown with her to look at it. It was just as white and clean as it had been before the elf performed magic.

She couldn't stop thinking about those golden sparks. She saw them every time she closed her eyes. They were beautiful. It made something inside her want to soar. A hunger for heights which she couldn't quite name.

Lotte's wanderings ended in her studio. She inhaled the smell of paints and thinner, of brush soap and oil. She inhaled the whole room, looking at her rack of brushes. They stood to attention, like an army, ready for her command.

On the easel was an unfinished painting which she didn't have the heart to complete. In the little drawers, all her paints sat in meticulous order.

She sat herself on her stool and stared at the room around her in silence. The walls bore her most recent creations. Sweet, frivolous and...and un-magical.

Enchantress....enchantress...what did it mean?

Somewhere in the house, someone knocked, a door was opened. She knew it was the elf, but despite his grand height, his steps were noiseless. The grace of his movements was so pure, she had felt awkward next to him. But he was so familiar. She was all at once thrilled and sad to see him. What was his story? Why was he here?

She thought of the card, conveniently planted all those days ago. Did he know this would happen? It didn't seem that way. He seemed genuinely surprised to discover that somehow Lotte had done all this to herself.

She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. What was this emotion? It was so confusing.

From somewhere in the house, Mr. Henri's voice spoke to the elf and the elf replied. Her ears were sharp, but not sharp enough to make out their words.

She got up, intending to go to them, but then she heard them moving through the house and the door to the studio opened. The elf looked around, staring at the paintings, wearing a small grin.

"I was...How do you say...?" he said. "Satisfied...that she was happy. I'm sad that I failed her before. I do not know how to be a good poe."

"Poe?" Mr. Henri asked.

"What is that word? You said it before. Garden?" The elf shook his head. "Not garden. It sounds like garden."

"Guardian."

"That is the same as poe, but a little different too."

"How so?"

"Poe is for life. It is impossible to change, not even with magic...and magic changes many things. As it does our sylvarnan."

He paused in the middle of the room, right in front of Lotte, and reached out again, putting the tips of his fingers to her hair. His eyes narrowed in concentration. In his other hand, he held a piece of charcoal.

Probing very gently with the pushing force Lotte had felt earlier, he felt around until he found her face. "Stay very still, sylvarnan."

He passed the charcoal over her cheek, and her forehead. He traced her nose and lips and around her eyes until finally coming to the other cheek. By the time he drew her throat, his strokes were more confident. He easily found her hands and left smudges of charcoal on them as well.

Then he moved back.

"Did you find her?" Mr. Henri asked.

"I see her now," the elf said, looking right into Lotte's eyes. He crouched down onto one knee so his face could be level with hers.

"Disan tulla, sylvarnan," he said ever so gently, stroking her cheek.

And without even realising it, Lotte's mouth opened and she replied, "Disan tulla."

It was a greeting, in elvish. It was what you said to the people you loved when they came into a room. But how did she know?

The elf shook his head. "Some you remember."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am your Poe."

And he had just explained what Poe meant. She opened her mouth to ask more, but he reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were curled into a fist. "What have you here?" He gently smoothed her palm. She was still holding onto a handful of tears.

"You were very sad, poor sylvarnan. You make many tears. Here..." And from his pocket he drew a small empty jar. It uncorked on its own, the cap lifting into the air. He tipped Lotte's hand so that the red tears fell into the jar with tiny tinkling sounds.

"It is not good to hold onto sorrow too tightly," he said, smoothing over the little dents that the tears had left on her skin. "Instead, leave it in jars and bottles and give it to those who can...find use for it." The jar screwed itself shut and Poe handed it to her.

She took it very carefully from him, gaping in wonder.

"Sylvnan," he said, giving her a long, earnest look. "Only you can undo this enchantment."

"Undo it...?"

He gave a single nod of his head without taking his gaze of hers.

"Are you sure that I did it?" She would've known that she did.
He settled down more comfortably onto the floor, crossing his long legs in a child-like manner. "What you did, you did not know you were doing. It was not...an easy magic. Not even a challenging magic. It was a difficult one." he explained. "You created a golem to share in your life. A golem takes, you see? This one, it was loyal to you. But it has taken your place in all this world. If you do not stop now, it will take your all."

"You mean...I'll die?" Lotte asked.

"No, no. We will stop it before that."

Lotte was speechless. How could he so casually tell her that her life was in danger?

He was oblivious. "You used..." He began counting fingers. "A precious doll, glue, your paints, your brushes and...I believe, I am not wrong, you also used your love."

"My love?"

"Not even I can use love in magic. You are like...not exact, but like, alessan caival with a heart of a...of a human."

Alessan, that was the word for a girl elf. Lotte recognised it somehow.
"And how do I...?"

Poe gestured towards the studio around them. "I cannot tell you how, not in this caivis. In others, yes. This one is only yours. You will, eh... choose your way."

"I don't know—"

Poe waved a finger in front of her face. "No, no, no. Knowing is not good. Not here. Knowing, you do not need it. Just..." He raised his eyebrows encouragingly and tapped his chest with his palm. "Feel it."

Feel it. Lotte closed her eyes. She tried to feel it, but it was a little bit irritating. If she couldn't do it, she would be dead. What he said was preposterous but carried its own set of logic. If she couldn't do it... She opened one eye.

Poe smiled at her, patient and...and positively delighted to be waiting.

He was crazy.

She shook her head and tried to feel it again. Just when she was about to give up a second time, she thought... she maybe sensed something.

Lotte moved up to her brushes and selected one that was as thick as her finger was long and perfectly flat. She took another one that was round and fat. Then she opened her drawers, looking at the tubs and tubes of paint.

She chose a bright blood red oil and squirted a healthy amount onto the glass on her work-top.

She picked up a large amount of paint with the flat brush and bent down on the floor, making a circle she could stand in. It wasn't a perfect circle, unfortunately. It bothered her. She clenched her teeth and did her beast to correct it until it was—not perfect—but at least not an oval. Then she put down the flat brush and started using the fat round one. She dipped it in paint and carefully drew triangles around the circle. Then she elongated the points of the triangles making a kind of childish sun. Taking up the flat brush again, she made smaller circles at the point of every line, using the brush's shape to twist it around. These circles were better than the central one, but everything was far too hasty for her liking.

And yet, she ploughed on.

She selected a narrower brush and drew a triangle to every one of the small circles—like a hat. Then, in the spaces between those out pointing triangles, she drew inner pointing ones.

And that was it. Somehow, that was it.

Lotte stepped into the centre of the circle and waited.

Poe exclaimed in elvish as the red of the drawing began to glow pink. Then a bright, white light shot upwards in a web, wrapping around Lotte. The white light seeped into her skin. She shuddered, feeling a distant snap.

"Poppin!" Mr. Henri cried rushing towards her and seizing her into a hug.

Lotte looked down over his shoulder. The markings on the floor were gone.

Poe had already gotten to his feet. He beamed at her. Lotte moved back from Mr. Henri, putting both her little hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry I made you sad," she said.

"You... nonsense, child," Mr. Henri said. "What's important is that you're well and alive."

Mr. Henri turned to Poe. "Thank you kindly, sir. You have done us a great service."

Strangely enough, the elf looked embarrassed. "It is not you who should thank me, friend," he said gravely. "We have not yet discussed..." His eyes moved towards Lotte. "The sad truth."

Mr. Henri looked at Lotte too, and then at the elf. "I...see." He rose to his feet, keeping a reassuring hand on Lotte's shoulder. "Then, I'll see to it that Poppin receives her dinner and is put to bed. You must be exhausted, my dear. Then, Mr. Er... Poe, we will discuss this...sad truth."