The Faerie War by rachel morgan

jaw. That’s an understatement . I can’t believe we’re this close to a Guild but have no way of contacting them. Hopefully we’ll come close enough to the Guild’s entrance for their guards to see us. Or we’ll pass someone walking through the trees. Yes , I realize with relief. No one here can use the faerie paths, so surely people will be walking.
    “What’s that over there?” Tryce, walking on the other side of his father, points toward a pile of something through the blackened trees. From here it looks like it could be a large mound of rubbish. We head toward it. My hand tingles, ready to reach for a weapon if I need it. As we get closer, I recognize some of the shapes on the mound. An upside down table, couch cushions, a bed’s cracked headboard.
    My blood runs cold as I realize what I’m looking at. I hear a sharp intake of breath from Tryce and a whispered “No” from Yale. Murmurings behind us indicate we’re not the only ones who’ve figured out what’s in front of us.
    It’s a faerie home. At least, it was.
    Broken furniture and belongings are piled up amidst the splintered pieces of tree that once housed these belongings. The tree, which was meant to keep everything hidden and intact, must have split open.
    “There’s another one over there,” someone behind us says.
    “How is this possible?” Yale asks. “The spells concealing homes are supposed to be among the most powerful.”
    I don’t answer him. The only thought passing through my mind is that this might be what my home looks like. This might be what the whole of Creepy Hollow looks like. Oh, please, no. No no no.
    We wander through Black Rain Ridge, passing more and more destroyed homes. The only sound comes from the crunching of scorched twigs beneath our feet. There are no people. No animals or other fae. As the dim purple of twilight descends upon us, Yale suggests we try the faerie paths again.
    I volunteer. I don’t mind if I wind up drenched or covered in snow or hail. Anything to distract me from the possibility that the home I’ve always known is as bare and dead as the forest I now stand in. I pull out my stylus and start writing the words for a doorway in the air. I think of how jealous Violet used to be that this was the one thing I could easily do that she couldn’t. I’m so consumed by how much I miss her that for a moment I don’t see what’s happening right in front of me: the storm’s gone. There’s only a black hole, inviting me to walk into it.
    “It’s working!” Tryce shouts.
    It’s working.
    Hope. Relief. Determination. They’re my emotions and everyone else’s.
    “I assume you’d like to lead the way?” A hand touches my shoulder. Yale’s standing beside me.
    Hell, yes. No one could hold me back now if they tried. I nod, then grasp his hand and walk into the blackness, trusting the others will form a chain behind me. I think of my home and hold fast to that image. My home is far enough away from the Guild that if something big is going on there, we won’t arrive in the middle of it.
    Light forms in front of me as a doorway opens. It’s still afternoon here, several hours behind Black Rain Ridge. I freeze. Part of me wants to rush into the familiarity of Creepy Hollow, but part of me is terrified of what I’ll find. I steel myself for the worst and walk out of the faerie paths.
    Ruined.
    My home is ruined. A pile of broken rubble. I thought I was prepared for the possibility, but the shock of seeing it is enough to suck the breath out of me. I crouch down and place my head in my hands, ignoring the footsteps of Order members walking past me. My home is gone. I have no idea where my mother is or if she’s even alive.
    “Was this your home?” Yale asks.
    I nod. I’m not sure I trust myself to speak right now. I count to twenty, then stand as Tryce and another faerie jump off the mound of debris. “There’s no one here,” Tryce says quietly.
    No bodies, he means. Because why would a