Bevin and the Widow Byrne lay motionless in their beds. Dim candle light flickered off the walls of the small room in the Quinn’s home. A slow, weak heartbeat pumped the last moments of the boy’s life through his veins.

“Can you save him?” I asked the aes sídhe sitting on the floor next to me.

“I can,” he answered. “But it will take more than just some herbs to remove a death curse.”

“Magic.” I said in a tone more of statement than question.

“Yes.”

“Will it cost the boy his soul to live?” Knowing the answer already I pressed for more. “Explain it to me.” I wanted so much to believe that Glyn wasn’t evil. He had made no move to heal the two when he came in. He only sat quietly and waited for their guardian knight’s permission.

“Those who are cursed death magic receive a mark. As one who has borne the mark twice now, you should be able to see it.” A warm hand rested itself on my shoulder. “Concentrate.”

I stared. I focused. I concentrated with all my might, yet nothing appeared. My eyes closed. A soft prayer to Realta begged for wisdom. My eyes opened again and looked at the dying boy.

Wisps of shallow breath drifted from his open mouth. The wisp shimmered slightly as it floated over his heart. More wisps joined the first with each breath until they took shape. The wispy void drew the light around it, consuminging it. My focus only held for a moment before the shape vanished.

“That mark is calling for a banshee to come reap Bevin’s soul before the time fate has decreed.”

“So your magic will erase the mark?” A cold chill crept onto my shoulder as the warmth from his hand retreated.

“No. Once death has been called into this world, it cannot be sent back without payment. The mark cannot be erased, it can only be moved.”

“So who paid the price for my life?” I shouted. My hand tightly gripped the hilt of my sword. I wanted to cut down the creature in front of me. Everything would be simple again, the world would go back to being black and white. A black and white world painted red with innocent blood.

I looked up into mossy eyes. I wanted to trust those eyes. Water clouded my vision while hope battled with hatred. Two words drifted past my ears so softly that I couldn’t hear it.

He took a deep breath and repeated it. “I did.”

“But, you’re alive.”

“I am aes sídhe. I have walked this land since decades before you were born. Paying to restore the time of a human is only a cup taken from a pool of water.”

“Why?” I yelled. “Why would anyone spend any of their years for another? Why would you use any of your time to save a knight sworn to kill your kind?” There had to be a reason. For a being so old, it might take a lifetime to explain. Bevin didn’t have a lifetime. “How can I trust you?”

His hands gently removed mine from the hilt of my sword. He pressed my hand against his chest and held it there. The thump of his heart beat steadily. “To atone for my past.” The soothing beat didn’t change.

My own heart rhythm leapt up and down in my chest after he placed his hand over my heart. Despite the turmoil in my mind, the drumming was calm.

“And do you truly believe all fairies are evil?”

The words I had been trained to say formed my lifeless reply. They were the same words I had said and believed my whole life, but the tune in my heart changed even as I said them. A mischievous smile spread across Glyn’s face, and the tempo raced even faster.

“Hurry up and heal them.” I pushed his hand away and moved aside.

He went to the widow first, taking a small bottle out of a pouch tied at his waste. The purple liquid poured easily into her mouth.

“Luckily for Oriana, destroying the duke broke the cursed link between them. It was good thinking using your amulet to weaken their connection. She just needs a little something to help with her anemia, and she’ll be fine.”

Moving over to Bevin, he took a deep breath. A hymn rang out from Glyn’s lips. Words blended with a sweet melody to fill the room with a tranquil incantation. The notes were not a dark or foreboding curse, but rather a hopeful aria.

Golden light sparked around Bevin. Each spark illuminated the dark wisp lingering over him. The melody crescendoed, sending more sparks toward the void. Smoke and golden glitter clashed over and over again until the dense form shattered into a drifting cloud.

Major chords shifted to minor harmonies as the ritual continued. Golden light changed to a soft blue and surrounded the smokey mist. Each note slammed into the bubble, condensing it once again into a small orb.

Grief radiated from the droplet, now completely black. No fear, or darkness joined the pulsing emotions, just pure sorrow. It was the end of what might be, a stolen piece of the future.

I watched as the orb floated toward the healer, floating closer and closer to his heart. Memories of Glyn dying of fever just hours before flooded me. Instinct took over, and I moved forward, grasping at the orb. My hand passed through the dim sphere without altering its course.

I tackled Glyn, forcing him away from the orb I couldn’t touch. We hit the nearby wall hard. A sad smile formed on the fairy’s face as the last note died, and the orb settled into his chest.

“Still trying to steal my role as hero?” He laughed, but the sad look never left his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, sir hero,” he mocked. “Would you mind getting off me? As much as I like to play rough, the boy will probably be waking up soon.”

“How can you make jokes after taking that thing inside you?” I growled. His face wasn’t hot yet, hopefully there was time. “I’m taking you home so we can get your potion ready before you collapse this time.”