Parting Worlds - A Little Mermaid Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 4) Read online

  Once Upon a Curse Book Four

  By Kaitlyn Davis

  eBook Edition

  Copyright 2019 Kaitlyn Davis M.

  Cover Art: Manipulated by Kaitlyn Davis from an attribution licensed DeviantArt brush by kavaeka, a Fantasy Background Store image called Fantasy Moonlight, and a DepositPhotos.com image copyright Boiko Olha called Portrait of magnificent Fashion gothic girl standing near tree.

  Title and Chapter Heading Font: Public Domain Font (Newborough) by Roger White

  The right of Kaitlyn Davis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be direct infringement of the author's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblances between the characters and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  All Works by Kaitlyn Davis

  Once Upon a Curse

  Gathering Frost

  Withering Rose

  Chasing Midnight

  Parting Worlds

  Granting Wishes

  The Raven and the Dove

  Midnight Fire

  Ignite

  Simmer

  Blaze

  Scorch

  Burn

  Midnight Ice

  Frost

  Freeze

  Fracture

  Shatter

  A Dance of Dragons

  The Shadow Soul

  The Spirit Heir

  The Phoenix Born

  Leena's Story – The Novellas

  To my family for their unconditional love,

  my friends for their overwhelming support,

  and my fans for their incredible enthusiasm.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Table of Contents

  All Works by Kaitlyn Davis

  Dedication

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Granting Wishes Preview

  About the Author

  Nine-hundred and ninety-three years ago, I died. Of course, it doesn't feel as though it's been that long to me, only a few days. But as I stare across the meadow and meet my sister's eyes for the first time in a millennium, I know she feels every missing second.

  No wrinkles mar her shimmering sun-kissed skin. No white hairs pepper her honey-colored tresses. She looks exactly the same as she did the last time I saw her—faeries don't age the same way humans do. Yet deep in her cerulean irises, I see the truth. Before that night when I broke my promise and accidently destroyed our world, her eyes were so clear I could read her every thought in a simple glance. Now, they're clouded over and obscured.

  She's changed.

  I think maybe I have too.

  The only question left is, how much?

  "Nymia?" I murmur across the divide. It's the third time I've said her name—the first was a shout, drenched in excitement, the second was a statement, softer and less sure, and now her name rolls from my lips as a question, plagued by doubts.

  So far, my only answer has been silence.

  Does she hate me for what I did? Does she blame me for everything? Can she ever forgive me? I never thought a day would come when I questioned my sister's love for me, yet here we are. The worst part is, I deserve it.

  I broke her.

  I broke us.

  I broke everything.

  "Aerewyn," she finally whispers, word nearly lost to the wind, but I hear it and my soul lifts. Something in her gaze shifts. The fog dissipates and I read hope in her eyes—the same fragile hope warming my heart. "Aerewyn!"

  "Nymia!"

  She runs, so I run too.

  Suddenly, I'm back in time, racing across the flowery fields of a home that no longer exists. I'm a girl with no worries and no fears, a girl without the weight of the world on her shoulders, a girl wild with abandon. I'm Aerewyn, and she's Nymia, and nothing else matters.

  We crash together, laughing and crying as we nearly tumble to the ground. With our arms wrapped around each other, I'm light. I'm free. Breathing in the lily scent always clinging to her magic, for the first time in so long, I feel unburdened. That sweet perfume is home. She's home. And I won't take her for granted again.

  "I missed you," Nymia murmurs into my hair, relief evident in her tone. But there's something else too—pain. Pain I know I caused. How long has she been alone? How long has she been carrying the weight of my mistakes for me?

  Just like that, everything I've done comes rushing back.

  "I'm sorry." My voice quivers as I speak. "I'm so sorry."

  "I know."

  There's no judgment in her tone—no accusation, no spite. Instead, there's something I never expected—understanding. Dare I say, forgiveness?

  Nymia squeezes me tighter, as though afraid I might not be real, then pulls back. She steadies me, the way she's always done, rooting me to the ground no matter how the wild winds in my mind blow. With her warm palms on my shoulders, I find the strength to look up. In her eyes, my past and present collide. As I hold her gaze, memories rush over me, an overwhelming deluge oscillating between all the joy we once knew and all the hurt I caused. Despite it all, she smiles. With that simple gesture, I know we can never go back, but somehow, we'll find a way to move forward.

  "I could throttle you, you know, for making me wait so long," Nymia mutters, with a loving frustration I've heard many times before.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes and fall back into a role I know how to play. "Good thing you’re the patient one."

  She laughs softly. The sound makes my heart swell.

  With her next words, I deflate.

  "Where have you been?"

  "Oh, Nymia." I sigh and shake my head. "You won't believe what I'm about to tell you."

  There's so much to explain, I don't even know where to start.

  So I go back to the beginning, before I woke to a land I didn't recognize, before the night that changed everything, before the lies, before the secrets, before I lit the match that caused the world to burn. I go back to a time when I was just a girl, and he was just a boy, and we were two strangers on the brink of becoming so much more.

  I know humans like to start these sorts of stories with once upon a time, but I'm worried that's setting the stage for false hopes.

  Because we don't all live, and we aren't all happy.

  Not
every curse can be broken, after all.

  "Come on, Nymia," I shout over my shoulder, not bothering to glance behind. "We're almost there."

  "Where?"

  I roll my eyes. "Just come on."

  "Mother, help me," she grumbles, but keeps following.

  In truth, I have no idea where we are or how much farther there is to go. We ran beyond the boundary of the faerie lands a long time ago, but I swear I saw a phoenix flying in this direction last night, its flaming tail arching like a comet across the moonless sky. The priestesses told us about the healing power of phoenix tears and their immortal magic. It was hours away from a molt and I've always wanted to see one in person.

  A spot of crimson catches my eye and I skid to a halt.

  Nymia slams into me from behind. "What—"

  "Shh!" I pluck the feather from where it sits nestled in a mulberry bush and hold it up with a grin. "We're close."

  "You said that when we found the last feather, ten minutes ago." Nymia arches a brow.

  I wrinkle my nose at her. "Well, now I mean it."

  She snorts softly and tosses a berry between her lips. "Just admit you're lost."

  "We're not lost," I counter, scanning the branches overhead for even the dullest ember. "We're on an adventure. There's a difference."

  "It feels a lot like being lost."

  "You didn't have to come."

  "And leave you to your own devices? You'd be halfway to the winter realms by now."

  My eyes widen. We're both summer faeries, so I don't know how long I'd last in the frigid cold, but… "I have always wanted to see real snow."

  "That wasn't—" Nymia breaks off with a frown. "I never should've put that idea in your head."

  "Too late." I grin and toss her a look. She's smiling too. "You know we're never lost when we're together."

  "I know." Then she blinks and stands straighter as a bit of wonder leaks into her features, making her eyes go wide. "And you're right. We're almost there."

  Nymia points to a spot over my shoulder. I spin on my heels, fighting a gasp as a gust of wind pushes the branches aside to reveal a bird encased in smoldering flames. Its wings are spread wide, leaving a trail of ash in the breeze. It lifts its head to caw once toward the sky before the blue feathers on its crown catch fire, blazing magenta as the magic swells.

  "Let's get closer," I whisper.

  "This is close enough."

  But I'm already making for the nearest tree, and I know Nymia will come too. She always does. Secretly, I think she likes that I push her buttons, just how I secretly like that she reins me in. We balance each other.

  I kneel and reach for the magic within my skin, a gift from the Mother, the goddess of all things life and light. She's nature and sun, water and wind, and everything in between. Faeries are her children, born as flowers, bred in a budding womb, and given human form through her power alone. We're supposed to use the magic to guard her world and to protect her creatures, but I think she'd approve of a little bit of fun, too. Why else would she build a world full of so much wonder?

  I push my magic into the ground, feeling dirt and roots, sensing the Mother in every bit of living land. Reaching for long-dead vines, I urge them to grow. Green stalks emerge from the soil and I coax them into being, willing them to thicken as they wrap around a tree trunk. With my power as a guide, they circle higher and higher, until they reach the first branch twenty feet overhead.

  "You know those vines will eventually kill that tree, right?" Nymia comments from behind, tone wry.

  Shoot. I'd forgotten about that.

  "Of course," I mutter before biting my lip and pressing my palm to the bark. I'm sorry. I send the words deep into the wood, hoping the soul inside can hear. I'll fix it before I go, I promise.

  Then I glance at the phoenix again.

  The flames have shifted from sunflower yellow to a dazzling marigold. When they change to glowing sapphire, the molt will be over.

  I grip the vines and climb, loving the way my muscles burn. The Mother gave us these bodies, so we might as well use them. Back home, it's always lessons, and lessons, and more lessons. We're only supposed to use our magic under supervision. We're definitely not supposed to leave the sacred grounds. We're supposed to sit, and listen, and learn.

  Boring.

  I want to see. I want to do.

  I want to use my gift—I don't want to waste it.

  When I reach the branch, I don't stop. I keep climbing, smiling as my arms heat. I'm on fire just like the phoenix, ready to be born anew. Nymia grumbles below me. With a soft laugh, I continue on until I'm even with the phoenix. Then I crawl out a few feet to make room on the branch for my sister, who eventually takes the spot by my side. The outer edges of the flame shift to bright aqua, nearing the final stage. The bird holds its pose. From up here, the wings look gargantuan, nearly as wide as I am tall. Dark pupils watch us through the flames, wary at first, until it recognizes the magic in our skin, labeling us as kin. The hours after a molt are when a phoenix is at its most vulnerable, but we're only here to watch and marvel. We'd never dream of hurting one of the Mother's children.

  The fire burns blue.

  I inhale sharply as the magic deep in my soul responds to the power sparking in those flames—the gift of the Father. Where Mother is life, he is death, the god of eternal sleep, safeguarding our souls from one life to the next. His magic gives us immortality, same as the phoenix, but the boys are the ones who become his priests. They live in the sacred grounds across the river. Sometimes, I make Nymia walk to the edge of the water, just to see her blush if she meets one of their gazes across the divide.

  I'm terrible, I know.

  But it's so much fun.

  "I'm glad you forced me to come," she leans over and whispers into my ear. "I would've been mad if I missed this."

  I take her hand, interlacing our fingers as we watch the edges of the feathers blacken and burn. "Just wait until we tell the other girls. They're going to be so jealous."

  "Do you—"

  A bark echoes through the forest and she stops cold, squeezing my fingers. I hold hers tighter too.

  "What was that?" Nymia whispers.

  I scan the ground. "Nothing. A wild dog."

  "Are you sure?"

  Another bark rings, bouncing from tree to tree. The phoenix stiffens. Within the blazing flames, fear ignites like a new fire in its eyes.

  "Could it be…?" Nymia trails off, afraid that if she speaks it, it might be true.

  "We're not that far from home."

  "Are you sure?"

  No, but I nod anyway, trying to be brave for us both. Before I can speak, the dull hum of voices reaches our ears.

  Human voices.

  "Aerewyn!" Nymia squeals.

  "It's okay," I urge, trying to calm her.

  "We shouldn't have come all the way out here. We shouldn't have traveled so far from home. We should've told one of the priestesses where we were going. We should've—"

  "Nymia," I interrupt and yank on her arm, forcing her to face me. "It's okay. I promise it'll be okay."

  She doesn't respond, but deep in her eyes I see the memory of the last time we came face-to-face with humans. It was a few years ago, on another adventure, this time to chase a unicorn through the forests at night. Its pearlescent horn was a beacon in the dark, one that held my attention so acutely I never realized how far we'd traveled until it was too late. When the unicorn stopped to take a drink by the river, we were exposed—our glowing faerie skin beamed with just as much magic, an easily identifiable target. I didn't hear the humans coming. I didn't realize they were there until an arrow planted in the unicorn's side. Another grazed Nymia's calf before we thought to run. She still has the scar to prove it, and she touches it now, a gentle brush of her fingers on the phantom wound as she pulls her lips between her teeth.

  I saved us then.

  I'll save us now.

  "Wrap us in your shadows," I hastily whisper as the voices gr
ow louder.

  "But it's daylight."

  "We'll be still."

  Nymia wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me close, making us as small as possible. The ancient words spill from her lips as she weaves the spell, using magic to block out the Mother sun, hiding us in Father's realm. It’s difficult magic, far more advanced than we're supposed to know. The priestesses would have a fit if they caught one of us whispering the sacred language without supervision, especially so close to humans. In fact, Nymia almost had a fit the first time I begged her to give it a go. We swam across the river one night to spy on the priests and caught wind of this magic. I immediately committed the words to memory—what could possibly be more useful than an invisibility spell? Much to my chagrin, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the magic to work. But Nymia could, and I've made her use the spell a bunch of times since then. As she wraps the shadows around us like a cloak, I'm positive that as long as we don't move, the humans will never see us. Even if we move a little, the spell should adjust.

  This will work.

  This has to work.

  Movement on the ground catches my eye just as Nymia finishes weaving the spell. Her body goes rigid as soon as the dog emerges from a thick patch of leaves. It's a bloodhound. I can't help but think he's sort of cute with those floppy brown ears that look a little too big for his body and a face full of wrinkly folds. At least until he lifts his nose to sniff the air and stares straight toward us.

  We both freeze.

  I've been told humans use dogs to find prey on their hunts, but a rare few have been trained to trace magic.

  I fear he's one of the latter.

  The hound releases a loud howl. He dashes the last few paces toward our tree and jumps on his hind legs, scraping at the bark with his claws. With his teeth catching the sunlight, he doesn’t look so friendly anymore. Behind me, Nymia trembles.