Julian took a long time to decide—maybe longer than he should have. Weeks passed, and he ignored the desire to return to the front and help his world expand. That was important, but the danger of the giants was too great. At least so far, diplomacy was going well. Interacting with their own changed former-passengers helped, as they were able to see the fairies who had attacked them more as fellow victims than some evil force that lurked in the woods.
He stayed close just in case, though he wasn’t sure what he would actually do if the whole group rose up. The army was more than capable of turning eighteen giants into animals if they attacked, and their predators were flowing back towards Formenos in greater and greater numbers. Any giant who left the reservation was in for an untimely death. Such was the same for Julian, who had always had to be careful with his charm whenever wolves or other things were near him. They’d never eat a breezie, any more than the bats and other creatures would. But if he changed back into a giant? Well, that was a different story.
But the disaster never came, and for a while that meant time for him to watch. Time for Emily’s words to sink in. He made a point of visiting with as many of the latest generation as he could. Many of them didn’t even have their own houses anymore, but instead kept a single large, communal sleeping area. They wore no clothing and used few tools, and many of them had stayed in their mandatory school for only the minimum year. They were graduating with less of a grasp on reality than some first graders Julian had known before the Event.
It’s no wonder ponies have always been at odds with breezies. True, the latest generation didn’t seem particularly afraid of the giant settlement—thinking that far into the future seemed to be beyond them. They were mildly curious, or mildly afraid, but largely ambivalent.
And the deeper Julian looked, the more disturbing the picture became. The latest generations had ambition for only two things—expanding the jungle, and expanding their numbers. An investigation into the offices of Formenos proved that all were either Averies or Julian’s own direct descendants. Not one member of the third generation held any position more significant than soldiers and gardeners. Mostly they just spread, wandering off in groups of a dozen or two to form their own colonies that would fly through the jungle and maybe never be seen again. There were two hundred fairies in Formenos—not because they’d disciplined their reproduction like the Averies did—but because so many of them didn’t live there anymore, and didn’t want to. Not even April could tell him how many people had gone.
If they keep breeding like this, it won’t matter if every fairy in Formenos lives forever and never gives up our way of life. We’ll be so few compared to them that we’ll be irrelevant.
Could the lack of access to the hospital keep those new groups from growing out-of-hand? Even a fifty percent infant mortality doesn’t matter if females can try for a dozen eggs a year.
Julian probably should have spoken to Avery about what he was doing, but he didn’t. There was a little guilt there—but not much. Avery’s attention was devoted mostly to setting up the magic for the new preserve, as well as creating three new charms for ponies from the bus who wanted to join their city instead of helping build the giant one. As awful as Julian’s predictions for the future made him feel, they were looks into the future. They were calamities for another day, which depending on the way the charm worked might even be beyond his lifetime. Avery could work them out one day, not him.
But Julian’s brain didn’t work that way. He couldn’t just banish one of his concerns and leave it for ‘future Julian.’ No, it festered. Eventually, he realized he was having nightmares again, and he knew he was really in trouble. Avery couldn’t just cast some spell to make the feeling go away—she helped him sleep again by solving the issue. How was she supposed to solve a problem that might not exist for decades? Or, alternatively, something that was already torturing them, but which didn’t have a solution.
It’s like the human is wearing out of the blood. Teaching them doesn’t help when their instincts are so strong.
Julian felt gratitude toward the Matron of Nightfall, for not cursing Avery the way their children were cursed. Watching his best friend turn into shallow copies had been bad enough. Watching her become a step away from animal would’ve been unbearable. And if that had happened, Avery wouldn’t have made me a charm. She might’ve just flown off into the woods never to be seen again.
Instead of going to Avery, Julian went to Emily. It wasn’t as though he was sleeping at night anymore anyway, so he didn’t have anything to lose. Anything to lose except whatever Emily’s master of the forest required.
“I knew you would be here,” said the moth, resting beside the little pond Julian himself had dug in the center of Formenos. She balanced perfectly on the edge of a lily, only two of her feet on the ground. Curiously, she didn’t seem to be flapping her wings to hold herself that way. She was balanced, her tongue just above the water as she drank. Like a breezie, not like a person.
But she rose a moment later, facing him. “You have been thinking about what I said. You can’t stop thinking about it.”
“How can you…” Julian muttered, not hiding his surprise. “I haven’t even said anything yet.” He landed beside her on the lilypad, making the whole thing rock and wobble. Somehow Emily managed to remain elegant and still on the edge, except that now all four paws were on the ground.
“Nothing supernatural,” Emily said, chuckling. “Those bags under your eyes are monsters. You should come with me to the spa tomorrow, no matter what happens tonight.”
“I didn’t know you did anything during the day,” he said, trying to put off what had to be asked as long as possible. Julian had brought nothing tonight, except his tiny jacket. Nights were so much colder than days, even in the jungle. He didn’t have the endurance for it that the moth did.
“I do things every day,” she answered, puffing up her chest. “Sleep, generally. Not always. Sometimes I photosynthesize. Sometimes I dream. Often I do all three at once—more efficient.”
“I need to talk to your master. The… the spirit of the jungle, uh… the Chain Breaker?” Despite being the first to learn about the Morpheans, Julian had done very little to research them, even now. He still saw the whole thing as Lovecraftian, wherein the more one knew the more danger one was in. Avery had got to know them and she’d paid dearly for the privileged.
“I don’t serve her,” Emily said, her voice suddenly flat, humorless. “I mean… we respect her, and I suppose just living serves her a little. I don’t oppose her. But her goals aren’t the same as mine. The same as the one I do serve. She’s too… she’s not part of the world much. She hates bonds so much she wants to make a world where we live free of all of them. That’s what the jungle represents. It’s the law of tooth and claw. It’s the law of strength, it’s as much sex as you want, it’s eggs abandoned to grow up on their own, its society boiled down to instinct.”
She rose into the air, flapping her elegant moth wings one at a time. “But Janus knew this would happen. I… don’t know if that’s his real name. I just call him that because he looks both ways in time. He doesn’t talk exactly, so I’m not sure if I’m right or not. But he hasn’t corrected me yet.”
Julian took off, far less elegantly. “I can’t fight her. The one who saved me… her magic is keeping me alive, somehow. I can’t ask your… Janus… for help if he would do something that might make her angry.”
But in some ways, this wasn’t sounding quite like Lovecraft anymore. It sounded almost Greek, like they were pawns in some divine scheme. Heroes favored by different gods. The problem was Emily was obviously right about the Matron of Nightfall. She brought the end of connection, of boundaries, of society itself. Some parts of that had been good for Julian—his exploded friends didn’t mind his relationship with all of them, instead of picking one. That would never have been possible in the world he left behind.
But if she hadn’t exploded her, I wouldn’t have had to choose between more than one.
“I know where to find him,” Emily continued. “Janus is… private. But the places he lives and the material world do line up.” Emily slowed, flying beside him as they drifted away from Formenos. “I should warn you, though. You need to be certain of this before you go. You won’t be able to tell him you’ve changed your mind and you’d really rather just leave. Once you enter his territory, you only get to leave if he wants you to.”
“Has…” He hesitated. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to ask this kind of question. But he couldn’t help himself. “Has he killed fairies before?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “A few. The ones who are insincere. Are you?”
Julian didn’t even have to think about it. “No. I really want… I really want to stop what’s happening. The Matron of Nightfall got her jungle, but there’s no reason we shouldn’t be able to keep most of everything else. Our way of living, our civilization, our… humanness.”
It seemed to Julian as though they were traveling much faster than he expected. Already he couldn’t recognize any familiar trees here. The glowing mushrooms near their base grew bigger and fatter here, in a strange variety of colors. The flowery perfumes in the air smelled strange to his nose, without any of their ordinary appeal. It was like he’d flown into a foreign country.
“You should know that Janus isn’t… he doesn’t think like we do. He might not grant your request the way you expect. Make sure you’re clear about what you must have, and what you just want. There’s a difference.”
“Couldn’t you do it?” He felt a little cowardly asking it—he was larger than Emily by far, and stronger. Apparently he had enough magic in his body to explode a city. In that way he was a little like Avery, all the magic of a full-sized pony boiled down into a tiny body. But even so, he couldn’t help but ask. He’d missed so much in his life simply by not asking for it. “I mean—you know this place. You know this magic. You’re already working for him. Maybe he’d give it to you.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” Emily didn’t sound upset with him. She didn’t even sound annoyed. “I am sad to see the world changing, but I have not had children. There are no eggs of mine to watch grow into ignorance and suffering. Janus can grant desires, and it isn’t something I want. It is something you want, and perhaps the other Averies. But none of them would be intact enough to come here. You have to have something to trade, and we’re… not much. Souls take a long time to heal.”
“He took you.”
“He took me,” she agreed. “But I wasn’t asking for anything in return. I came because I wanted to. I found meaning out here, but I didn’t ask for it. It was just… something I found. I’m sure if I was a proper fairy, I’d be all mysterious, and I’d try to manipulate you, or… who knows. But I’m not. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” She stopped flying. There was a fog up ahead, and a valley descending down into it. Only the tops of the trees were visible below, along with a few desperate flashes of light. Mushrooms didn’t glow in those colors. “This is as far as we go, unless you’re sure. Once you go down there… you’re on your own. Either Janus finds you, and you impress him, or… he finds you, and you don’t.”
“How do I impress him? It would be easier to know how to make him like me if you told me what supplicants are supposed to do. Is this one of those Anubis heart and feather things, or…”
Emily shook her head. “Don’t do anything. You just have to want what you want badly enough to pay for it. You have to be willing to pay whatever he asks, because you don’t get to negotiate. Once you’re inside, you either take the terms or he takes you. Those are the only choices.”
Julian watched the strange way the fog seemed to curl around the edge of the valley, not rising up to creep towards them. Like something invisible was holding it trapped there.
He could still turn around, right then. He could fly back to Formenos and forget he’d even been considering this. Emily probably wouldn’t judge him, and she certainly wouldn’t tell anyone about this. They would never know.
Instead, Julian moved forward, wings buzzing. “Just tell me what to do.”
Emily pointed into the dark. “Keep flying and don’t die. Don’t try to lie either, just keep going. Keep going until Janus finds you. You’ll know what to do after that.”
Julian found that promise extremely hard to believe, but what was he supposed to say? No one knew what Emily knew.
He embraced her one last time, squeezing a little tighter than he probably meant to. She hugged him back, without any reservations in the way she did. “Come back, idiot.”
“I plan on it,” he said. Then he vanished into the fog.
The world became distant, frightening shapes, and Julian was briefly tempted to return to his “normal” size. It wouldn’t be hard—just a little tug on the charm, and he’d be person-sized again. He could hardly be blamed for a little fear, could he? And Emily hadn’t said anywhere that being small would help.
He stayed small anyway. Maybe he didn’t need to, but he wasn’t going to take the chance. It seemed like the thing a hero in a story might have to do, braving all kinds of terrible danger to prove their commitment to the one they loved. After facing all kinds of hardship, he would eventually be rewarded with access to some secret valley, or maybe a magical sword.
Unfortunately neither of those things were what he’d come for, so even if they happened he wouldn’t be better off.
Julian kept far enough off the ground he thought he would be out of reach of any predators that happened to be passing nearby, a distance he mostly had to guess since there were no actual predators here. No living things at all, not even insects.
Yet as he moved, he could feel the fog beginning to thicken around him. It didn’t feel like he was flying through smoke anymore, but something much more solid. Every flap of his wings became a strain. He squealed in surprise, fought with all his strength—but just like that, he was stuck.
It was no substance at all, nothing that could hold his body. It was, rather, as though time itself had stopped moving. Julian was the fastest breezie in the jungle, but he could not outfly time.
Something approached from the darkness, something that towered over him at incredible height. The ground shook as it walked, the fog melding into half a dozen discordant shades.
Those are antlers, he realized. That’s a deer. It was a deer as tall as a building, a deer as large as a bear. One of its great legs stopped beside him, looking as thick as the trunk of a large tree.
He could feel the inquisitive mind probing at the edge of his own, curious. It demanded answers. It demanded to know what he wanted, and why he had come into his domain.
Julian couldn’t move, not even to talk. His whole body was still stuck, frozen in amber. He now had a guess of where the others Janus had not liked might’ve gone. Not killed, as Emily thought, but still frozen here, probably in a similar position to the one he was in right now.
So he did the only thing he could, and he tried to imagine his difficulty. He tried to picture watching his children growing up increasingly ignorant, watching the order of the city fall apart. He remembered his guilt at being the one to bring them into the world, thinking he was giving them a legacy but discovering too late that they were barely even people. He felt his defiance anew, his determination to ensure that the old way of doing things survived. If not in custom, then at least in ability.
The godlike being—the only thing that wasn’t frozen in the air around, seemed to spend an incredible length of time in silent consideration. It did not reply with a voice, but Julian could almost interpret the images like one. It showed him doors that were closed, showed him power barred and spells already sworn. It showed him how its own abilities would be unable to erase what the Matron of Nightfall had done.
But maybe it wouldn’t have to. There could be another way. A difficult, painful way, but one that would not be beyond them.
Julian saw a spell—a spell that worked along similar principles to breezie magic. Except a breezie couldn’t cast it, only a moth could. It was the way they would reproduce—not through any biological means, but through magic. Moths were not the same as ordinary breezies, they were creatures of magic and stories. Their minds would not decay over the generations as breezies were doing.
In that way, Janus showed him a vision of the future. A vision of this spell cast on the army, who could hunt out breezies from one end of the jungle to the other. They would greet them in friendship, then wake them from the Edenic dream. Their powers would not be taken from them, only changed slightly.
The vision Julian saw depicted the future of Formenos, where breezies would be born and grow as carefree as today. They would spend their whole childhoods looking forward to becoming proper citizens, which could only be accomplished when the spell was performed on them. They would wake into the world with joy and gratitude.
There was a price, of course—everything had a price. But they could find a way to pay it. Their new society could work around it. It was such a little thing, and they had Avery. It was really only the third generation removed that got bad.
Janus was not making an offer, but it still required Julian’s consent. He could reject the magic, reject the transformation, and remain trapped here forever. He didn’t. Julian would soon become a creature of two masters.
The great stag looked down, spreading jaws wide. Creamy white flames emerged from within, and Julian was powerless to avoid them. He was consumed in an instant.