Rings
written by: Law Yuen Tong
“Don’t go.” A tiny girl pleaded, her voice hoarse from crying. “You’re the only one I have left.”
Hacking coughs echoed around the barren room in reply. “Alette, I’m so sorry.” Came the feeble reply. A feverish hand reached out, and the younger sister grasped it tightly like a lifeline.
Alette gasped out a strangled sob. “I’ll head to the alchemist! Mr. Yorksmirth must have something in store!” She knew she was grappling with straws. There was so much that magic could do, and beyond the point of no return, fate would be ultimately decided by the Morrígan.
“It’s no use. I can see them now. Pa and Ma… They are beckoning me to leave the earthly confines and roam in spirit.” The older sibling tried to smile reassuringly, but it came out as a grimace.
“Sadie, but I’m scared.” Confessed the child. “I can’t go on on my own.” It never occurred to her that she had to continue the journey alone. Sadie was her angel, her shield, her protector ever since their parents left. She taught her how to pick the best flowers, how to sing, how to weave her tousled dark hair into neat parallel braids.
She was Alette’s everything.
And she was leaving.
“You have to. I have faith in you, my little fairy.” Sadie turned, and Alette was struck by the intensity behind her viridescent eyes. She knew Sadie- she spoke with her eyes, spilling kindness and love to anyone deserving of it. Until the plague struck, draining her spirit until what was left was the empty husk of her former self. But not today. Sadie’s eyes were sparkling, warmth flooding out like sunshine on a cold day.
Unclasping the iron chain, she motioned Alette forward and fastened it on her younger sister’s neck, brushing off the messy tendrils. “This might help.”
Alette fingered the intricately carved rings nervously. She knew the weight that they carried, after all, they were Ma and Pa’s wedding rings, ones that Sadie managed to salvage from the train wreck that claimed their lives on that fateful night.
“Family,” Sadie said, tapping Alette’s chest. “Is always there in spirit.” There was a comforting silence until Sadie gestured to the tabletop. “Alette, could you please pass me a cough potion?”
Alette grabbed the clear vial and placed it in the frail hands of her sister. The vial trembled, and in a crash, it fell onto the ground, shattering on the impact. Blood-red liquid splashed everywhere, but both sisters heeded no mind as Sadie gripped Alette’s hand so tightly that it hurt. “Take care.”
Alette had to watch the vibrant eyes fade into nothingness.
The body of her sister slumped, and she was gone.
The mournful cry of the child and the caws of the crows made a chilling symphony on the cold night.
***
Alette looked on as her sister turned into dust.
The villagers lit a funeral pyre for the fallen. Bodies went in, going out with the last blaze of glory until all that was left was tears and ashes.
So many lives lost.
Never to be returned.
***
Alette remembered being ushered to a battered building.
“Welcome to the St. Louis Orphanage! Make yourself at home.” Came the warden’s voice high above her, her honeyed tone grating on Alette’s nerves.
It won’t be home though. There was no Sadie, no memories, no warm laughter pulling her in.
Alette sombrely walked to a corner and sulked, ignoring the worried stares from the adults.
“Poor thing, she’ll come around soon.”
No, she refuted in her head stubbornly. She won’t.
***
Life in the orphanage was mundane and monochrome.
Every day, she was woken by the shrill iron bells clanging. The warden would come to usher them to another rundown part of the complex where they had their lessons. After that, it was free time until bed. The orphans were only allowed at the open court and the two buildings. Huge fences surrounded the property, boxing them, trapping them- Treating them like prisoners. Like a gang of misfits, who were deemed a danger to society, whose only crime was being abandoned by the adult figures in their lives.
It was a stark contrast to the halcyon days of Alette roaming in the moors, going on impromptu ventures and exploring the uncharted lands. The adults here clipped her wings, shackling her to the confines of the cages under the guise of safety. Safety, she scoffed. She is half a grown-up now. She could take care of herself.
As if the insides of the orphanage were safer. The children would put up their best facade in front of authority, but it was no secret that they were living in a rotting social structure threatening to crumble any minute.
The first lesson she learned was to keep her possessions on her. Always. Within a week, the remnants of her money vanished without a trace. She still had her rings, though. She could feel the weights on her neck nestled close to her heart, now that they were an extension of herself.
There was also the noise. Children squabbling over such mediocre things made her head hurt. Stolen items, chores… all that could result in a quarrel, or worse, a full blown-out brawl between factions. Tensions were high in the cramped quarters, and Alette felt like she was stepping on a tightrope, always on the verge of being dragged down by the maelstrom of everyday war.
And sometimes, it was impossible to stay afloat.
***
Alette woke up to the chirping of a robin in the dead of night. It peered quizzically at Alette and abruptly took off to the inky canopy beyond the fence.
Her soul sang for her to abandon all rational thought and lose herself in the wild. Tired of being cooped up, she briefly hesitated before sneaking out the window. Using the water pipes as guides, she nimbly clambered down, adrenaline fuelling her every step.
Spying a loose edge of the fence, she peeled it away, revealing a sizable hole.
The iron wires scratched her rosy cheeks as she crawled through the gap, but her mind was fixated on her goal. With a few wriggles, she was a free spirit, and victory had never tasted so sweet.
***
Alette wandered across the heathland, gathering the heathers and crowberries on the way, determined to piece together a bouquet. Relishing the solitude, she took care not to trek too far, lest she lose sight of her current place of residence. Her anchor to the human world.
I am a little cloud untethered to earth…
I am a little bird soaring in the skies…
Skipping to her song, she was unaware of the log set squarely in front of her. She tripped, spalling onto the peat.
Fortunately, the moss was soft enough to cushion her fall. Only her leg was scraped. She’d be fine.
She’d always be fine.
“Are you alright?” A lilting voice sounded. Before her stood a willowy woman draped in a gossamer dress. A circlet of primroses adorned her voluminous hair of spun gold which gleamed under the moonlight. But what caught Alette’s attention were her eyes which were a shade of luminous green, a distillation from nature itself.
It was different from Sadie’s eyes, she noted. This woman’s eyes had an ethereal quality that Alette couldn’t pinpoint.
“Yes,” Alette replied, adding a thank you as an afterthought.
“No need to thank me,” the goddess smiled gently. “But if you could tell me your name, it would be greatly appreciated.”
“Alette. What’s yours?”
“Alette,” The name rolled off the woman’s tongue like smooth butter. “My name is unimportant.” Dismissed the woman, her voice not unlike a siren’s, so soothing and mellifluous to the ears.
Names had power, Alette dimly noted. Rational thought screamed for her to flee back to the orphanage, to seek safety under the covers of her threadbare bed, but her feet disobeyed her command and remained rooted on the ground as she stared mesmerized at the woman, lured in like a moth to flame.
“Your crown is pretty,” blurted Alette. She flinched, waiting to be reprimanded for stepping out of line, but the woman merely chuckled. Lifting the wreath from her head, she placed it daintily on Alette’s messy curls.
“You like it?” Asked the woman. When Alette nodded, the woman planted a light kiss on Alette’s cheek. “Consider it yours.”
Judging from the pristine flowers, Alette knew it would have cost a fortune. With Sadie’s words echoing in her mind about courtesies, it would be rude to just accept the gift. Having no currency, she could only offer the flimsy bunch of flowers, knowing they pale in comparison to the pastel blooms.
The woman gladly accepted the flowers, admiring them fondly like they were not a clump of weeds randomly plucked by the child. “A fair trade.”
“That’s hardly fair.” Protested Alette.
“It is fair in my eyes. That is all that matters. Come,” the woman gestured. “Let us explore the wilderness together.”
Alette yearned to take her hand, but the crack of dawn reminded her of the passage of time. Sensing her indecision, the woman extended her hand. On her palm rested a bell. “Ring it when you’re back and I’ll come as soon as I can.” The saint smiled mischievously, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, my Alette, I know we will be the best of friends.”
Bidding adieu, Alette turned and ran back to the way that she came, through the marshes and thicket while gripping the crown of primroses tightly. She didn’t turn back. Even if she had, she would have missed how the emerald eyes flashed red for a second as the woman hummed thoughtfully to herself.
“Such a naive human child. This is going to be interesting.”
***
It had become a routine for them. Every night, Alette would sneak out to the moors, using the fallen log as her landmark. There was also a huge ring of mushrooms nearby, growing eerily in a perfect circle. Her guardian would be there, beaming when she saw Alette running enthusiastically towards her.
They talked a lot. Well, Alette talked a lot. She rambled about the stories she heard and the novel discoveries made throughout the day. The woman was an amazing listener, drinking in the stories and adding a few witty comebacks of her own.
It was not the lack of effort that made Alette the sole speaker of their conversation. The woman was not great at giving straight responses, often answering elusively or simply gracing a fleeting grin before digressing.
The woman shared about her friends though. “We like to dance and play in the meadows. The musicians play ballads for us all day long. Sometimes, we go hunting for such exotic creatures- boars and bears beware.” She smirked, her smile turning vicious and gleeful, before morphing back to the gentle features that Alette had grown to know.
Alette, oblivious to the minute change in tone, asked, “When can I meet them?”
“Soon.” The woman replied. “I promise.”
***
Being secluded from the outside world has its disadvantages. For instance, Alette was ignorant of the fact that there were rumours of missing children circulating within the community. A blue-eyed boy was the first to go. Then a brunette girl followed.
The orphanage had caught wind of the news. But what was there to be done? Security was adequate, and the sturdy iron fences would surely ward off any danger.
Or so they thought.
***
The woman was deftly braiding Alette’s hair into braids. Alette leaned into the touch, relishing the contact, reminiscing of the past times when Sadie used to do the same.
With a jolt, Alette realised that she rarely thought of Sadie now. The memories were losing the crystal quality, being fuzzy around the edges.
A pained hissed snapped Alette out of her reverie. Glancing at her guardian angel, she noted that there were welts marring the delicate fingers.
“What happened?” She asked out of concern.
“Is your chain made of iron?” Questioned the woman tersely, disdain apparent in her voice.
“Yes.”
“Take it off.” She commanded.
Alette shook her head. She had vowed never to part with the memento of her late family. Sensing her hesitation, the woman explained. “We are deathly allergic to iron. You have to take the chain off if you would like to join us.”
“But…”
“Do you trust me?”
Yes, Alette thought. It was through the woman that she found solace, the woman who was her only friend, the woman who painted vibrant colours on her dull canvas.
“You have to make a choice soon.” The woman gave Alette a secretive smile as if sharing an inside joke.
The echoes of a haunting tune lulled her to a restless sleep that night.
***
It was midsummer the next day. The upbeat mood in the orphanage did nothing to relieve the knot in Alette’s stomach. Even the rare delicacy of salmon could not cheer her up.
The orphanage had never been, and would never be home. Home was where Sadie was, and the woman would be a close second.
The question lies with whether she would take a leap of faith.
And abandon her old family in the process.
Alette glared at the St. John’s Worts adorning the ceiling. This would be a long day.
***
Alette raced to the clearing. The woman was already there, waiting by the ring of mushrooms.
“Shush.” Said her protector. “Just watch.”
Alette could only stare in amazement at the portal. Beyond the looking glass, there were creatures dancing on lush grass, looking Sephardic, their dresses gleaming. Flowers bloomed radiantly, manifesting their uttermost beauty for the world to see. Alette squinted and caught sight of a blue-eyed boy and a brunette girl, their joy apparent with the way they doubled up with laughter.
At the far end of the frame, she glimpsed a familiar figure. A girl was twirling in the meadows, dancing voraciously. Foxgloves hung at the waist of her chiton, and her braid was interlaced with dainty daisies. Sadie never looked so joyous in her life. There was a quality of lightness that made her look younger, untouched by tragedy, loss, and illness.
“You coming?” Asked the lady. Alette saw a pair of translucent wings sprouting out from the scapulae of her faerie. They glimmered under the full moon, fluttering slightly to the breeze.
The iron chain dropped soundlessly onto the peat. The fae queen’s grin widened.
“Come, my little fairy. It’s time to go home.”
***
There was mayhem at the orphanage the next morning. A child was stolen right under the adults’ watch! The villagers held a search party, desperate to recover the kidnapped child.
But she vanished without a trace.
All they could find was a discarded necklace with twin rings on it, and a fairy ring not far away from the orphanage, glistening under the fresh morning dew. When they listened closely, they swore they could hear the children’s laughter like bells chiming in the zephyr.
