Twist and Turns
Twist and Turns
Fae Wilds Series, Volume 1
W.J. May
Published by WJ May Publishing, 2022.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
TWIST AND TURNS
First edition. July 26, 2022.
Copyright © 2022 W.J. May.
Written by W.J. May.
By W. J. May
Copyright @ 2022 by W .J. May
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Copyright 2022 by W.J. May
Twist & Turns, Book 1 of the Fae Wilds Series
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Have You Read the C.o.K Series?
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How hard do you have to shake the family tree to find the truth about the past?
Fifteen year-old Rae Kerrigan never really knew her family's history. Her mother and father died when she was young and it is only when she accepts a scholarship to the prestigious Guilder Boarding School in England that a mysterious family secret is revealed.
Will the sins of the father be the sins of the daughter?
As Rae struggles with new friends, a new school and a star-struck forbidden love, she must also face the ultimate challenge: receive a tattoo on her sixteenth birthday with specific powers that may bind her to an unspeakable darkness. It's up to Rae to undo the dark evil in her family's past and have a ray of hope for her future.
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Fae Wilds Series
Twist & Turns
Curse of the Fae
Force the Truth
Crown & Glory
Enemy & Rivals
Light in the Dark
Twist & Turns
Forgetting is easy. Remembering is hard.
A Fae determined to recover her memory and learn her place in the realm discovers that there are no simple answers.
With the help of a soldier with secrets of his own, she charts a course between two worlds, a dark forest where no Fae dare set foot, and the capital of the realm, which might end up being more deadly.
Can she uncover her identity before the rest of the realm’s secrets pull her into something she can’t talk or fight her way out of...?
Contents
Have You Read the C.o.K Series?
Beginning’s End Series
The Queen’s Alpha Series
Find W.J. May
Fae Wilds Series
Twist & Turns
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Fae Wilds Series
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Prologue
The night pulsed with power, making it seem as if the stars hanging above the clearing were themselves pulsing, vibrating in time with the words spoken far below, words that had been old when the world itself was young.
The words climbed a spiral of steam that curled from a bubbling cauldron. The forest was thin in this place, a natural clearing where the roots and gnarled limbs of the ancient trees had given way to tall, soft grasses thick and lush enough to cradle a newborn. In the center of the clearing stood a stooped figure cloaked in a black so dark it seemed to devour the starlight that touched it. Much else could be swallowed by such a darkness, lovely and deep, and whispering promises of dreams unremembered but unforgotten.
It was the darkness at the center of the forest, a place where the sun could not touch for the leaves and branches of the great, old trees blocked out any light that would burrow its way into the wooded depths. There dwelt a wildness that was the rhythm of the forest, the heartbeat of its creatures, small and trembling, clawed and lurking, even the ones who wheeled high above in lazy circles surviving on Death’s leftovers.
This world was a wild one, ruled only by the divine laws of Nature herself. That wildness was present in the words that resonated around the clearing. The sounds slithered on their belly through dry leaves, plodded thickly through mud that sucked and bit, skittered up knotted trunks with ragged claws. Sounds that screeched and bellowed through treetops and echoed over overgrown valleys and into the surrounding mountains cloaked in mist. These sounds created the phonology and morphology of the old tongue, the first tongue, the language spoken before the world changed. Before it was occupied by more civilized minds.
The figure held an ancient hand, wrinkled like a vine-covered tree, over the cauldron, tossing
ingredients into the roiling currents. The cauldron accepted its due, the fire below flashing at times, the steam sometimes thickening to smoke after the addition of one ingredient or another. As the chant continued, the air of menace surrounding the clearing increased with the addition of glowing eyes.
Low to the ground, high in the branches, and everywhere in between, sets of eyes began to appear on the forest perimeter, watching and waiting as the shrouded figure continued to chant, the world holding its breath, unskilled minds attempting to comprehend the sheer power that seemed to be unfolding before them.
The forest was coming alive with every word spoken, every wing and tooth and drop of fluid spilled into the cauldron. Unnoticed at first, new buds unfurled into leaves, thick and healthy. Branches extended and roots unrolled themselves, curling like hands outstretched. A torrent of wild energy brought the forest to life, while the creatures inside it, like shadows hidden among the trees, held still, unmoving as the miracle revealed itself.
They had shining eyes, these figures, eyes that had seen magic like this before, although perhaps not on this scale. They watched the cauldron and the cloaked one, their inner calm contrasting with the wildness that grew and breathed around them.
The black-clad figure shifted, her hood falling back to reveal a face lined like polished petrified wood. Thin lips, hooked nose, and eyes black and shiny as a rook’s wing, the old woman’s mouth worked, producing the words that were remaking the world.
Her mouth smiled, and suddenly the words she spoke were intelligible to those who had gathered to watch her from within the tree line. The old woman spoke of the forest’s might, of its wild beating heart strong enough to vanquish those who would think to dominate and subdue her wilderness.
“The time is at hand,” she announced, her hands like claws grasping at the night. “The time to reclaim this world. To push out the interlopers, to return the realm to the Wilds. Wild it was, and Wilds it shall be!”
A solitary howl rose from the woods, almost an animal sound but shaped by a more articulate mouth. The howl was joined by others until it was a chorus that rang from the trees and echoed upward, climbing through the branches and leaves until it burst out of the canopy and rushed the stars themselves.
Night spun around itself, a disorienting feeling. There was a swirl of stars, then the world below once again resolved itself, the heavens separating itself from the earth below. A sensation of falling arose suddenly, dropping toward the canopy once again, drifting through leaves and branches until hitting the icy surface of a bubbling brook.
Twisting through a rock-walled cavern, the brook sped down a path through the thickest part of the forest, trees and branches and overlapping ferns making it almost imperceptible save for the sound of its journey. Rocks give way to dirt embankments and thick vegetation, and the pace of the brook slowed, currents gentling from roars to whispers, until it emptied itself into a small pool beside a thicket, a willow sighing over the water on the opposite bank.
Among the tangle of the thicket, a small, grassy spot overlooked the pool. There she sat, quiet, reflective. The peace of the thicket was undisturbed by the ancient woman and her faraway words. Here, there was only the gentle gurgle of the water and the talking of the wind through the trees.
She could not see beyond the trees very far, the forest receding into a gray formlessness that surrounded her, but not in a menacing way. It was the boundary of a dream, the fuzzy margins, inconsequential until confronted. They didn’t worry her, these boundaries. In fact, to her they did not exist, for rarely does a dreamer know she is in a dream.
She watched the eddies whirl and vanish, whirl and vanish, and wondered idly whether there was something she was supposed to be doing. Memory was slippery here, and it seemed to take too much effort to hold onto things when the gentle breeze encouraged her to forget them. She’d long ago forgotten to wonder where she was, or even who she was. Or why it mattered.
The wind picked up, the leaves around her rattling. Branches began to sway, then the trees themselves, their whispers turning to groans as the breeze became something much less gentle. She looked up, concern creasing her features for the first time she could remember.
Menace filled her belly, an unfamiliar feeling that made her muscles tense, her breath become shallow. Despite the mighty wind shaking the trees around her, the pool itself had become still, its surface no longer giving a glimpse to the rocks, plants, and small silver fish that dwelled below. It had become fathomless, dark and deep.
She leaned over then froze, her reflection coming into view. Eyes carved of light stone stared back at her, and she noticed pale ear tips poking through the waves of her thick, light honey hair. Plump lips of pale pink framed a mouth that was smiling.
Touching her lips, she let out a gasp to discover that her reflection did not mimic her motions. The smiling lips were not her lips, the hands not her hands. The reflection’s smile turned sharp and sinister, and the need to flee filled her. Gooseflesh dotted her skin, a chill filling her.
She’d made up her mind to run, but her body did not move. It could not. She could only look in horror at her reflection and wonder whether something ominous lurked beneath the depths. Or whether it was too late, and that ominous something had already breeched her defenses. She couldn’t remember, after all.
A hand gripped her shoulder, and the world around her faded to nothingness.
Chapter One
“You’re me,” the familiar voice whispered. “Remember?”
She gasped, waking suddenly to a world of light and sound. Scrambling up from the ground to her hands and knees, she blinked at her surroundings. The first thing she recognized was the gurgling of a stream, followed by the sound of birds trilling in the trees and the rustling of wind through leaves.
Pulling herself to her feet, she groaned then touched the back of her head. It felt tender there, as if it had been hit. Or maybe I fell? A quick glance revealed that the grass she was standing on had been pressed down with the weight of her unconscious body, but that the vegetation around her seemed undisturbed.
What happened? What happened to me?
She tried to retrace her steps, but she couldn’t. How did I get here? And where is ‘here’? No answers revealed themselves as she stood and stared at the stream, then the other bank which was dotted with trees and bushes. I’m in a forest.
The realization caused her to shiver, but she couldn’t be sure exactly why. Why should I feel worried and not worried at the same time?
She tried shaking her head then stopped, groaning again. Placing her hands on her belly, she wondered if she’d gotten drunk the night before and that was responsible for her current plight. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d been intoxicated, she realized, as she saw the image of herself holding up a golden goblet in a toast while surrounded by other young, well-dressed women. The image disappeared as suddenly as it had come, gone from her memory as if it never existed.
The stream provided a natural mirror of sorts where she could take in her attire. A silk gown, rumpled and stained from a night spent outdoors, lay heavily on her, and she wondered how much a dress like this would cost. And whether I can afford it.
Why would I wonder that? Maybe I wear dresses like this all the time...
She attempted to comb through her hair with her fingers, suddenly anxious at her appearance. “A lady must always appear presentable,” she murmured to herself, then froze. Who told me that?
She scrubbed her face with her hands, then groaned when she realized her hands were dirty. There were three rings glittering on her fingers among the dirt and muck. One was a simple silver band, another a golden band with a jewel-encrusted crown, and the third an opal set in an ornate platinum casing. The expensive dress was starting to make sense, given her accessories.
Considering whether to attempt to wash her hands and face in the stream, she paused, the remnants of a dream coming back to her. She took two steps away from the stream, deciding it
was safer. I don’t want to touch that water, but I don’t understand why...
Add it to the list of things I don’t understand, she told herself, letting out a huff of air. She turned her back on the stream and looked out over a thicket of shrubs and bushes. Her brow furrowed. She’d obviously gone to some length to end up here. So why don’t I remember anything?
With one last look around her, she took a step into the grasses that grew to the border of the thicket. Her slippered foot landed on something, and she reached down to see what it was. It was made of velvet and soft to the touch. She turned it over in her hands, taking in the white thread embroidery on the deep burgundy pouch. “Linetta,” she whispered to herself, her finger tracing the word.
Is that my name? Am I Linetta?
The real question is, why don’t I remember? Her fingers untied the bag and opened it. A quick catalog of its contents was made. Coins of different materials and sizes. A few small red gemstones. And nothing that says who I am beyond the name embroidered on the outside.
She closed the pouch, then carefully looped its ties around the thin, silver-plated belt circling her waist. When she was satisfied that the pouch was secure, her hands found her hips. “All right, Linetta,” she told herself. “Let’s find out exactly what you’ve forgotten.”
The thicket was deep, with branches set to scratch and dig, but her body seemed to know just how to duck and shift to work her way past them without injury. Soon the trees and shrubs began to thin, and in less than half an hour, she was out, stepping into a grassy field where she could see winged insects buzzing languidly in the early morning sunshine.
The grassland sat in a semi-circle of trees, so she headed for the one area where the grass went on to the horizon unbroken. After walking for several minutes, shapes began to climb from behind the horizon line, and a few minutes after that, she realized the shapes were buildings. There was a village in the distance, and now she had a destination.