Enter the World of the Shadowlands: The Fae

by Elizabeth | Oct 16, 2024 | 0 comments

The world of the Shadowlands is built on human mythology (with my own twist, of course) and there are four very important mythological beings in the Shadowlands of Britain that play a huge role in FIRST LIGHT. Today I’m starting a short series to introduce you to all of them with excerpts from the book, starting with…

The Fae.

They paused when a tall woman crossed their path. She came walking through the trees, stopped, and stared at them for a moment.

Carys couldn’t speak. The woman was thin as a willow branch and nearly as tall. Her golden-brown hair was straight and fell down her back, threaded with leaves and a few bright, berry-laden twigs. Her skin was golden brown, her ears were pointed, and gold rings pierced the tips.

Duncan paused and gave the silent woman a deep nod, but he didn’t speak.

She stared at Carys with obvious curiosity, and Carys stared back. The woman cocked her head and blinked thick-lashed brown eyes. Like Dru, she wore sigils on her face, but they were delicately drawn, fine lines curling like tendrils from the arches of her cheeks up to her temples and into her hairline.

The woman stared for a few silent moments, and then Carys blinked and she was gone.

After a long moment, Duncan kept walking, gripping Carys’s hand in his.

“What was she?” Carys couldn’t stop the question, but she kept her voice low. “Was that an elf?”

“Light fae. You’ll see them out and about more than the dark.”

Duncan helped her over a stone wall and across a rolling meadow with lights dancing just over waving heads of ripe wheat. The horizon was growing lighter but never truly bright. It was as if a thick fog covered the sun, making the sky glow but with no clear radiance.

As they walked, the land grew warmer and the colors brighter. It was awash in hues that reminded Carys of a watercolor painting. Purple and deep green trees, blue-green meadows, and soft-gold fields. She saw the first sheep when they climbed over the next stone wall, this one cut with steps from whatever shepherd trod the path they were walking.

Carys sighed with relief. “Sheep and stone walls. Things are getting more familiar.”

“Wouldn’t be any kind of Scotland without sheep,” he muttered. “Even an alternate one.”