George woke up on his straw mattress in the attic. Once again, he couldn't remember how and when he got there. The night that just passed was like a thin mist through which fragile, trembling forms could be seen, which dissipated when he tried to think too much of them. Like a dream that fell apart as soon as you open your eyes, even if the mind still keeps bits and pieces of it. 

And yet, he remembered her. Her smooth, glowing skin caressed by the moonlight. Her arms around him, pulling him toward her. Her white neck and blood-red lips. He had to drag himself out of the bed to feed and water the animals. 

Mother Doca had been awake for a while. He greeted her, but the old woman answered him with a faint smile.

"Grandma, did something happen?"

"George, darling, I don't know what to do with you anymore... One of the maids at the boyar's mansion says you went away at the fair with Elena for more than an hour. And now the boyar is threatening to send his cottars here. Where have you two been? What have you done?"

"Don't worry, Grandma. We didn't do anything. We just talked."

"Then why are you chasing this girl, George? I don't understand. Even if you like her, her father will never agree with you two. They're not like us, my boy. They have a different life and they see the world differently. A different way from ours. They'll never see you as one of their own, no matter how rich you are ..."

George did not answer but began to draw water from the well at the back of the yard.

"I could understand if you loved her ... Do you love this girl?" she asked.

"No ..." he replied in a low voice.

"Then?"

"I saw her, Grandma," he said between clenched teeth. "Maria ... My Maria. She was with Stefan. She and-- and my best mate," he added, slamming the bucket on the ground and walking away from her.

"And you expect her to wait for you while you run after other girls? Don't let her go if you love her?" she shouted behind him.

George didn't answer. He wanted to be far away. He wanted not to talk to anyone and not to see anyone. He ran to the edge of the forest, but ... He didn't want to see Magda either. Not when Maria occupied his mind and heart.

He looked at the sky. Gray clouds gathered above, as did the clouds in his heart. It was going to rain soon. He heard a lowing behind him and shuddered. It was Stela, one of Maria's cows. He recognized her by the star-shaped spot on its head. It must have gotten lost. And Maria was probably around, looking for it.

His heart began to beat faster and he could feel he was lacking air. He slowly stepped closer to the cow and stroke its head. The animal recognized him and stood beside him, seeming to calm down, even though the thunders in the distance seemed to be coming closer.

He looked around for Maria. And he saw her appearing from the small hill near the forest. The girl stopped when she saw him. Big, heavy drops began to fall from the sky. George grabbed the rope with which the cow was tied and walked slowly toward her, speaking softly to the animal.

When they reached each other, neither of them said a word. They just looked at the rain falling over them and all around. The sky was furrowed with thin lightning on the horizon, and thunder was heading toward them.

George slowly headed towards her; he took her hand without being able to take his eyes off her sad eyes.

"Maria ..." he said and his voice shivered as he spoke her name. He pulled her to his chest and pressed his forehead to her wet cheek without knowing if it was wet from the rain or her tears.

"George ..." she whispered, sheltering her wet cheek at his chest.

"I'm sorry ..." he said. "I don't want you to cry because of me ... Hurting you is the last thing I want. My heart breaks when I see you like this ... Just as it breaks when I see you with him ..."

"You can stop this ..." she said. "One word from you and I won't see him again ..."

George felt the rain falling harder, watering his cheeks. Or maybe there were just his tears.

He gently pushed her away from his chest. "I can't ..."

She covered her face with her palms and lay down on the wet ground, sobbing. George leaned over and kissed her wet hair that smelled of flowers and rain.

"Goodbye, Maria ..." he softly said, walking away from her and heading for the forest.

A few times, he wanted to turn, but he knew that if he did, he would come back to her and stay with her forever. Yet the call of the forest was stronger.

He ran among the trees on the path he had crossed so many times. Suddenly, the forest no longer seemed a shelter. The rain was dripping, cold, and heavy. The trees clung to him, scratching his skin. A stump rose in his way and George stumbled and fell. He crawled to the first tree, leaned against it, buried his face in her arms, and sobbed like he never before.

He could feel the stale air invading his nostrils all of a sudden. He found her in front of him, staring at him as always, her head to one side and her gaze fixed.

"Magda ..." he whispered.

She lifted his chin with one finger, and he couldn't help but get lost in her eyes as deep as the swirling waters. The fairy then showered his face with kisses, hard and dense kisses, denser than the raindrops, invading his whole being entirely.

He could feel her fingers, cold and wet, taking off his shirt. And George allowed himself to fall into her being. And the more he fell, the further his world felt. And he thought that's what he wanted, anyway. To forget about his world, about all the humiliation, the pain, and the tears. To forget about her ...

*

Before the longest day of the year, the whole village was preparing for the holiday to properly welcome the summer. The Midsummer Eve was coming; it was a magical night that everyone was looking forward to with joy, but also with a heavy heart. That was because it was the night of the fae. The playful ones and serious ones. Tricksters and earnest ones. Gentle fae and... evil fae.

The legends talked about the Sanziene, the gentle fae that they were beautiful girls, who lived in the woods or on the plains. They were caught in wild dances and had miraculous powers over flowers and weeds, which later turned into healing plants, good for all illnesses. On Midsummer Eve night, they flew through the air or even walked on the ground. They sang and bore fruit to trees, married women, helped birds and animals breed, healed the sick, defended the crops from hail. And if people dared not celebrate them properly, they would get upset, becoming good sisters the fierce Eddies. The elders said of them that they would take revenge on women who do not respect the holiday, repenting. Men couldn't escape their wrath easily either. Those who have ever sworn crookedly, or done bad deeds, were terribly punished because the Sanziene were great lovers of justice.

George knew about the legends and the tales of his elders. And he had gladly taken part in all the customs. Every year, he went with the lads and lit fires on the hills to protect the village from evil spirits. Then they wandered the meadows, watching the girls picking bedstraw flowers, which they caught in their hair or put under the pillow in the evening, to dream of their future husbands.

This time, however, the Midsummer Eve found the boy more gloomy and more thoughtful than ever. He didn't go to the hills with his friends, nor did he prepare for the holidays. In the evening, George sat down next to his old grandmother on the porch.

"Grandma, you're the only one I can talk to about this," he said with a sigh. "Tonight, I want to go to the Forest of Wind. If the gates between the worlds are open, I must search for the treasure. I have to. I can find no peace ever since I heard about it. And I won't calm down until I rummage through every patch of this bloody forest until I find it..."

The old woman shook her head. "Oh, my dearest... Your soul is put to great torments. I know no one can persuade you to let go of this. But please, look for the treasure any other day but tonight. It's the longest, most twisted night of the year. The creatures that live in the forest, seen or unseen, are stronger tonight than ever. Don't go, my dearest boy, don't go! ...But George was determined. At dusk, he looked through the old shed for a shovel, took a lantern with him, and set off for the forest.

When he reached the forest, it was dark. But the moonlight lit the path that stretched before him as if in plain day. And George cared little for the darkness that stretched on either side of it. He didn't even notice that behind him, the branches of the trees clung like arms, and the forest slowly turned into a trap. The trees rustled in the whispers of leaves in the warm breeze. And the sounds of beasts or birds resounded in the air soaked with the scent of grass and moss. As he advanced to the middle of the forest, George felt his heart grow smaller. He began to whistle for courage, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught flashes of light following him and disappeared as soon as he dared to look at them. It wasn't Magda. He would have recognized her light by a thousand. The lantern's flame flickered a few times and the boy began to throb at every crack.

"They are wild beasts, they can't hurt me. They're afraid of fire ..." he said to himself again and again to gain courage. 

Soon, as he approached the glade, whispers began to pierce his ears. And unknown voices called his name.

It must be the lads from the village, he thought, they probably want to play a prank on me ...

But his pace was getting heavier and his heart was getting ever frightened. If his heart had been a dove, it would certainly have taken flight to the heights, far from the forest that was taking him over.

Suddenly, a fragment of a song reached his ears. He didn't understand the words, but that master's voice caressed him and made him float like a dream. Yet it wasn't Magda's voice.

Without realizing it, he woke up in the glade of the Eddies. It was as if it had been blown away by the wind in an instant. He was slumped to the ground behind a big bush. The courage he was so proud of left him in an instant and his body was shaken by strong shivers which he could hardly control.

But this did not surprise him, but the sight that unfolded before his eyes. The whole meadow was lit, and in the middle of it, floating above the ground, chained in a circle, there they were. The Eddies. George breathed a sigh of relief when he found Magda among them. Large candles burned around them, fastened inside the bark of the trees. There were three of them, with snow-white skin and their hair reaching their heels, dancing under the oldest birch and singing like no other. Their slender bodies were covered with the most translucent white dresses, sewn as if of spider webs. And the bare ankles wore bells, ringing merrily in the night. Their heads were crowned with wreaths of wildflowers that spread the sweetest scent. Bugs, birds, and beasts surrounded them, under the spell of their unearthly dance. The rabbit next to the wolf and the owl next to the mouse, they all watched together those creatures from other worlds, enchanted by their dance.

George came to his senses when the fairies began to dance like mad ones, spinning faster and faster in dizzying circles that enchanted and frightened him. And their song seemed to come down from heaven. The young man seemed to know the words, but if he tried to understand them, his mind became slow and hazy.

Hadn't the fairies really seen him? Didn't they really smell human? Or they were just fooling him, pretending not to notice him. Because they minded their dance as if no one and nothing mattered. In the middle of the dancing circle, the grass gradually lost color and the clay soil became dry and barren. But from beneath, golden glitters rose to the air.

"The faery gold," George whispered, his eyes glittering. The impatience made him move from his place, and a twig snapped under his foot. And just then the Eddies fell silent, stopping from their dance.

One of them broke away from the others and came floating above the boy. Her face was clear and her black hair fell on her back like a cloak. Her eyes were fixed on him, as was the gaze of Magda. George could read the fear in her eyes.

"Well, well, well, sisters," she said in her softest voice. "Looks like we have a guest."

And saying this, she took the boy by the hand and gently lifted him off the ground. George was now floating with the faery. Her hand was cold as ice and her thin fingers clenched around his wrist like a chain. There was silence in the forest. An unusual silence as if all the creatures of the forest had perished from the face of the earth. Even the wind turned silent, and no leaf moved. Only the laughter and giggles of the fae crossed the forest, breaking into echoes.

The faeries surrounded him and began to spin around him, pushing him and teasing him. George felt dizzy as if he had drunk a barrel of wine. The faeries were beautiful, enveloping him with brown, blonde, or black hair. And no fire.

"Say, do you want to come with us?" the dark-haired faery asked him. She must have been Magda's older sister. The blonde one seamed the youngest.

"Well, I'd like that," the boy confessed, feeling like he was in a dream. He had forgotten about the treasure, the boyar's daughter, and his old grandmother. And suddenly, a girl with soft golden hair came to his mind. A beautiful girl, not a fae. George felt he knew her, but her name was on the tip of his tongue. What was her name? The girl was sad, the saddest being she had ever seen. Tears fell from her pretty eyes, and her fragile arms reached out to him like in prayer. Maria.

George came out from the numbness he had fallen into and broke away from the fairy dance.

"Stop!" he shouted as loud as he could. But he barely finished his words, that he was slammed to the ground, right in the middle of them, as if struck by lightning. The dark-haired fairy, the one who had discovered him, came closer and picked him up from the ground with one hand as if he was a feather.

"How dare you, a mere mortal, to say no to the call of a fae?" she cried in a thunderous voice, making the forest shivering around her. Then, she pressed her cold lips to the boy's lips, crushing them.

The last thing George remembered was Magda's cry of horror reminding him of a bird dashing from the skies in pursuit of its prey.

TO BE CONTINUED