When the faery released him, the place was changed completely. The light was gone, the candles were out. A strong wind blew, swirling the clothes and locks of the fae. The faery looking at him now was completely different from the translucent creature that had invited him to their dance. Her eyes were entirely black, and twigs and weeds tangled in her hair. Her purple lips parted in a wild grin, revealing her sharp white teeth. Her face had the color of unfertile soil, and on her forehead, the boy noticed with horror two swellings as if horns could come out at any moment. Long eyelashes, like the blades of withered grass, encircled her eyes, fluttering in the air as her gaze was fixed on him. Her bony hands twitched in sudden moves of her long fingers, too long to be considered earthy, resembling crushed firewood.

The fae said nothing. But there was no need, for the boy was more frightened than he had ever been. The creature in front of him, because he couldn't call it otherwise, twisted her head unnaturally so that her chin almost reached his forehead. George closed his eyes and wished he would never open them again.

"Look at me, mortal!" he heard dozens of mixed voices coming out of the faery's throat. "Watch as we sip your last drop of life," she hissed.

George stubbornly kept his eyes closed, but a force stronger than him made him open them. The faeries, now ugly creatures, as scary as their grins, were watching him, their ragged dresses fluttering.

Sharp pains shot through his body, and his head felt like made of lead. Before his eyes, as if he had seen it for real, faces and happening began to run. His life ... He saw the dear face of his lost mother as he rocked him, singing tenderly to him. His dear grandmother, hugging him in her arms that smelled of linden flowers. Boys and girls, his friends, caught in jolly dances. Cold rivers whose life-giving waters could feel on his skin. Whistle song of an old shepherd who would graze the sheep with his. People coming from the field carrying their scythes on their backs. Cheerful fires with flames reaching the sky and the smell of baked corn ... The stove in his house, where he was warming himself after a terrible snowball fight. His old dog, Azor, running after him with his tongue out. Stifling summer with the scent of wildflowers. The Forest of Wind, caught between the moonlight and the shadows of the trees ... Laughter, whispers, voices, songs, screams, shouts ...

And the girl with the golden hair, running through the grass on the plain full of poppy and blue flowers. She smiled at him with her lips, her eyes, and her whole being, stretching out her arms he could never touch or feel ...

"Catrina, stop!" he heard Magda's desperate cry.

George fell to the ground, his face glued to the dead leaves around him. He felt powerless. He could barely breathe the heavy air as if he were not in a forest, but he could only see their translucent feet walking around him.

"What do you want us to do with him, Magdalina?" the older sister hissed. "Are you with child yet? If you are, we don't need him anymore."

Magda seemed to hesitate. "Not yet..."

"Then maybe you should try with another one," the younger sister said.

"Shush your mouth, Rujalina," Magda snapped at her.

But her younger sister laughed. "If you don't carry his baby yet, it means his seed isn't good. It means you have to find another one."

"But I don't want another ..." Magda said softly.

"What do you mean?" Catrina, her older sister, asked.

"I want to-- I want to keep him..." Magda dared.

"What?" cried Catrina. "Why would you do that? He's just a mortal. He'll grow old and die as everyone his kind does. In a few years, he'll be weaker and older. And others, younger, stronger ones, will take his place."

"Not if we keep him here ..."

"Keep him here? In our world? Fae Queen will be furious," the fae's voice shouted. "Why? What makes him so special? You can have dozens like him, every day of summer. If he doesn't father your child until the day comes, we shall kill him or repent him or twist his mind as we did to the others. None of the mortals who saw us and our world came back to tell," she added, pushing him in the ribs with her bony foot. The pain shot through his whole body as if she had stabbed him in the ribs.

Then, he could hear Magda's sisters step away. He felt Magda's thin hands turn him towards the light of the moon that had come out of the clouds. He could feel her hands caressing him and her lips kissing his dirty face. He opened his eyes and saw her, her old, beautiful self; he saw the tears falling down her cheeks, the color of the first snow.

"Shhh, just let go, my love," she whispered as he could feel her cold, wet skin touching his. "Let go and be mine..."

He wanted to resist her, but no longer had the strength to pull her away from him. He let her invade his body and mind with her overwhelming being. But she could not invade his heart. Because in his heart, he still kept the girl with golden hair. And he felt his heart break with pain and regret. How could he be so stupid? How could he had fallen into the faery's trap?

"Remember me ..." whispered the girl with golden hair smiling, before the image of her beloved face scattered like steam.

*Days passed since Midsummer Eve and no sign of George. The whole village set out in search of him through all the places the boy used to roam. The villagers searched every corner of the forest, the village, and neighboring villages. No sign of him as if the earth had swallowed him. In the end, they decided to stop searching, thinking he must have left the village in search of getting rich. And he would appear alive and unharmed after some time. Or that he had been killed by robbers and buried in who knows what hidden place. Then people went back to their lives. And life resumed its natural course.

Only Mother Doca, the boy's grandmother, begged for them to keep looking for him in the Forest of Wind, as he must have been taken by the Eddies. But who would give credence to a blind, powerless old woman?

The Forest of Wind had been searched inch by inch, without the boy being found. Only his shovel and the lantern had been found after a bush in the glade in the middle of the forest. A bad sign, the people thought, and left as soon as possible; away from the places that were shadowed because they knew they were cursed places where not even the cattle or beasts of the forest would dare set foot.

Maria and Stefan were the only ones still looking for George. Maria visited Mother Doca every day, and each time, she would found her with tears in her eyes and a heart torn by pain.

"The Eddies took him, my dear," the old woman moaned whenever she crossed her threshold. "He went looking for their treasure that night, the night they set foot into our world. And he was gone ... Sometimes, late at night, I can hear him. His cry is brought to me by the wind. He cries out his pain and helplessness, he cries out to be helped, to be brought back into his world. And I'm afraid that these voices brought by the wind from the forest are deceiving. And I'm too old and too weak to walk the forest and look for him. And no one believes me when I say that only they, the Eddies, are to blame ..."

Maria didn't know what to do. Her heart broke when she knew she would never see George again. Even though she knew he might never be hers, it was enough for her to know him happy and at peace. Even with another woman.

She missed him every moment of the day. And every passing moment, her heart was getting colder little by little. She no longer ate, she no longer drank, and she gave up all her occupations. She didn't go out with the girls at the gatherings. She didn't go to the church anymore. She didn't want to know about anyone or anything.

Her parents looked at her helplessly. One thing was certain -- the girl melted with longing before their eyes.

Stefan had also noticed the changes in her. Yet he had stayed by her side, rummaging through the forest every day. And so the days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, then months passed, and no trace of George.

One day, when they both had to leave for the forest, Stefan hesitated. "Listen, Maria, I don't want to make you sad, but I don't think George is coming back," he said, putting his hands on her shoulder and looking her straight in the eye.

Maria shook her head. "No ... You can't give up! He's your best friend!" she yelled.

"I know ... And I want to find him as much as you do, believe me. But we can't run after a ghost all our lives."

"But ... But--" she whispered and her eyes filled with tears.

"We have to think about the future," he said. "We have to think about ourselves. You can't hold on to his memory for the rest of your life."

Maria shook her head. "I can't give up on him," she said, shedding her tears.

Stefan swallowed hard. "I can't go on like this," he said in a low voice. "If you can't give up on him ... It means you have to give up on me ..."

Maria looked up at him, "Stefan ..."

"You know how I feel about you," he continued, avoiding her look. "I understood. And I waited. And I was always by your side. But you can't play with me like that. And you always cling to him. And that means one thing -- that you still feel something for him. More than you feel for me. And more than you will ever feel," he said softly.

Maria wanted to say something but felt a heavy knot in her throat as if she had a weight on her chest. Stefan planted a light kiss on her forehead and she felt his tear falling on her face. Then he turned and left.

*

In the village, people had often seen her haunting the Forest of Wind like a ghost, thistles tangling in her hair and the clothes she wore randomly. More of a shadow than the beautiful creature she once was ... But she didn't care.

The Forest of Wind no longer frightened her. It was just the forest that had stolen her George away... She knew it inch by inch. She had walked it during the day, and walked it at night, no longer caring about shadows and whispers. But the forest greeted her silently, without revealing its secrets. No sign of the Eddies... Yet in the glade, she found burnt grass and bare ground, and the place was avoided by animals. Maria felt weak as she walked in the middle of that circle of dead soil.

"That's where the Eddies danced," Mama Doca said when the girl told her what she found in the forest. "That's where their world opened up and swallowed George."

But her words did not bring comfort to Maria. One day, she decided to ask the old woman for advice. To know what happened to George.

"Tell me, Mother Doca, if what you say is true, and the Eddies took George, how could I bring him back?"

The autumn wind was blowing, and the old woman and the girl were staying on the porch of the house. The woman was looking away, and her voice seemed to come from another world,"My mother told me, when I was a child, that you don't come back from their world. That no one came back to tell what they saw there. And if they did, they weren't whole in body and mind. And no one believed a word they said. "

"But what did those who returned say?"

"Well, they were talking about the world of the fae, unseen to the human eye. A world where time flows differently, where there is no old age or death. They don't want to let them go. "

"And when is their world seen, Mother Doca?"

"On the shortest night of the year ... Just like the night George disappeared," she sobbed.

Maria thought for a moment. "You say it's not possible for someone to return from the world of the fae. But you know how they can be brought back, right? You've heard of people who have returned from their world ..."

"They can only be brought if the faeries let them go, my dear. And if the missing man is a boy, the one who is meant for him can make a pact with the fairies. And many times, the girls or young wives who went after their loved ones have disappeared from the face of the earth forever. Just as their beloved men..."

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