Glass

The decision was made early in the morning to traverse the rainforest west of Mendessa City. Anise the Faerie Godmother lived in a giant tree not far from the rainforest opening, given the unusual nickname "the Tree of Stars".

We travelled on horseback, a rarity for me as my father would always worry about me falling off and suffering a great injury like a friend of his did many years ago (in far less safeguarded circumstances). The horse I was appointed was larger than most, with icy blonde hair and pure white fur.

"This is Alba," Rafael had said, "she's served me well for four years, she has. You take care of her, alright?"

Rafael travelled at my side with a brown horse of his own, but I could feel him side-eyeing me with envy whenever his horse made the slightest grunting noise. At my other side, Zolin rode below, on a much smaller horse cruelly assigned to him on purpose. In front, Emiliano was our Pathfinder, guiding us down the winding roads out of the scorching-hot city into the unknown wilderness. And then behind, the dozen other soldiers riding in neat rows, looking out for any source of danger.

I ducked under the first few branches, which had been browned by the sun. I had read about the rainforest many times, but still considered myself unprepared for danger. There were poisonous creatures at every turn, and gigantic predators lurking in the trees. I kept trying to remind myself that this was an adventure, and I was still travelling somewhere I had never been before.

The birds' tweets above us sounded more as though they were arguing than singing. I turned to Zolin, whose hair was messy and somehow still wet from washing away last night's muck, and I tried not to laugh when I noticed him watching the birds above, ducking out of the way from the ones directly above his head.

Alba's hooves splattered against the damp mud as we brushed through another wall of bright green leaves. Bushes of star anise brushed at our feet, which surprised me for a moment. If my studies taught me correctly, those plants would never grow in a rainforest… were it not for the influence of magic.

"I will not be far now." Emiliano assured, pointing to a great shadow on the horizon. We closed in, vigilant of the sounds of creatures surrounding us, and the shadow became a tree trunk.

Details emerged with every step, like we were witnessing an artist add the last details of a great piece. The star anise bushes thickened and led up towards the trunk, where they somehow wrapped around it in an unnatural shape. The trunk was thick and sturdy, towering so high that the canopy was out of sight. As I looked closer, each crevice was covered with fresh star anise of all sizes, stuck on with tree sap. It looked like the tree was made entirely of brown stars, and suddenly the name it had been given made sense.

"The Tree of Stars."

Rafael dismounted for a moment and searched the area.

"We're clear." He raised his hand, and together, I, Emiliano, and Zolin dismounted our horses. The other soldiers circled around the tree, most searching for the threat of wildlife, while others tied our horses to a nearby tree to wait for our return.

Apprehensively, I turned around the Tree of Stars, until we reached a hollowed opening. Inside was only pitch darkness. As I leaned towards it, a voice, croaky but undeniably female, echoed from within.

"Only one may enter."

I looked upon the dark tunnel, and my entire body tensed. I gave Sir Rafael a glance, and he stepped forward to go in my place.

"No, Rafael. I will go."

As he opened his mouth to protest, Emiliano came to my aid.

"Fairies cannot interfere in political matters. That includes harming the prince. Let him go."

With every nervous step, I could feel my legs shaking. The path ahead was pitch black despite the bright and burning sun above. I had never interfered with magic of any sort, let alone a faerie, who are said to be the bringers of magic itself. They are not native to Mendessa, or so I have heard, so to see one would be a once in a lifetime opportunity.

I decided not to distract myself with the honour of seeing such a creature - I had questions that needed to be answered.

As I entered, the world behind me melted away, until no light remained, and I was trapped and disoriented in a cavern of darkness. Only a single light lit the way - a spark that flew through the air, changing from blue to purple and back to blue again as it drew closer to its conjurer. I followed it, not knowing where else to go.

The voice echoed again through the seemingly endless tunnel, much louder than before.

"I wasn't expecting such an important guest. You'll have to excuse me for the mess, your highness."

A crackled laugh sent chills down my spine.

I thought of what Emiliano said; that she couldn't hurt me. And I remembered the words spoken about her back when I thought she was merely a legend - that she was kind and helpful; a godmother to many.

As my eyes adjusted, a warm glow lit against the twisted wooden walls of the tree, winding around a corner where one of many torches flickered. The spark began to fizzle out. The faerie godmother's chuckles no longer echoed.

The path opened to a large cove, flickering with firelight that danced up to the ceiling's hanging vines, some loose while others were plaited and decorated with dried-up marigolds. Shelves were carved into the walls, displaying bottles of every colour, shape, and size imaginable, all desperately fighting for what little space they had. A strong scent of incense and sweet cinnamon brought me back to childhood memories I couldn't quite place, and beckoned me inside.

I looked around. There wasn't a soul except for myself. For a moment, I stood still, equally apprehensive and nervous, staring at the patterned rug beneath my feet. The rug's pinks and reds and purples seemed to have faded from use - if the reclusive faerie would have been anywhere, it would have been there.

"Andres, your highness, come in, come in!"

The voice was coming from behind a strung-up clothesline, weighed down by piles upon piles of mismatched materials. I walked to it gingerly, and softly began to peel the fabrics aside.

Before I could pull away the next layer, all of them suddenly stretched apart like a pair of curtains. I gasped from the suddenness. On the other side, an empty desk was left in dim light, littered with scrolls and other random trinkets. The stool that would sit beneath it was missing, and instead was moved to the side of a giant cauldron filled with a smoky-smelling brown liquid beneath hanging sprigs of sundried herbs and spices.

"Just over here."

The source of the voice was somewhere beneath the desk, but there wasn't a soul to be seen. As I searched, a glow from a desk drawer keyhole flickered in my eye. Double-taking, I put my eye through the keyhole to find a face staring back at me.

I leaped back as the drawer opened itself and out came an elderly woman the same height as a ripe strawberry, surrounded by a golden glow.

The faerie exited and flew up to the edge of the desk where she sat, laughing at my obvious fear.

"Prince Andres! What a handsome young fellow you have grown to be!"

"You... know me?"

"Who doesn't? You are the prince of Mendessa!"

I was confused. The way she spoke to me sounded as though she had seen me in person before - something that only very few could claim. When I asked again, I was dismissed before I could even finish my sentence.

"-And I know everyone, dear, it's not something that makes you special around these parts."

She glanced over to the cauldron, exposing the wiry bones and wrinkles in her neck.

"I don't know you," I said, getting myself up from the dusty carpet, "only stories."

I was ignored.

"Smell that?" She inhaled sharply. "It's ready!"

She flew over to the stool beside the cauldron. Then, with a beady-eyed look, said, "Turn away. It's rude to look at a woman changing."

Immediately, I turned and stared at the corner, deciding not to ask any questions about what she meant. With a noise that sounded like a draft of wind through the tree, she finally allowed me to turn again. When I did, she was standing as a fully-grown human, her wings gone but the glowing aura remained. At this size, I could get a better look at her, noticing the shock of grey across the side of her plaited bun and the long, red fingernails covered in golden rings.

Anise grabbed a used mug from the desk and scooped it into the cauldron, taking out a messy cupful of the mystery concoction and taking a sip which dribbled down her mouth.

"I am here because I-"

"Try some, dear, try some!"

She practically shoved the cup into my hands. It was surprisingly lukewarm, the liquid within dull and lumpy.

"No thank you."

"You must! Or I'm not helping you with anything!"

I saw my reflection in the liquid. A grimace couldn't help but appear.

Faeries cannot interfere with political matters. That includes harming the prince.

I shut my eyes tight and took a gulp.

Going down, it was surprisingly good. It was thick yet smooth, smoked yet it had a kick of spice that settled in my throat. I chewed something meaty yet tender, flavoured with vegetables and paprika.

"Mole de olla." I decided aloud. It had been a dish that warmed me up in the winter months when I was young.

"Did you help anyone get to the ball? Anyone who wasn't supposed to be there?"

"Everyone at that ball was meant to be there. Whether your elitist father thinks so or not."

I tensed up to defend him, but she had a point. Father would only allow noble women at the ball - believing only the highest of society to be trusted around me. But what she had said suggested that perhaps that roster wasn't all that it seemed.

I curled an eyebrow.

"So you are saying you helped a commoner?"

I anticipated the answer. If the woman I was looking for was a commoner, that brought its own array of issues that both my parents would outright forbid.

The faerie froze in thought for a moment, regretting her words. But in a way that could not be seen as anything but honest, she answered.

"Depends on perspective."

"What does that mean? Who did you help?"

"Many women," she said, "I am a godmother to one hundred and forty seven people - I am a very busy woman, especially on that night."

"Busy how?"

"You ask many questions, dear," she flicked through the shelf of bottles, each one threatening to fall at her touch. Eventually, she grabbed a small yellow one at the back, "lemon juice?"

I shook my head.

"No thank you."

"Suit yourself, dear." She threw her head back and gulped down the whole thing before grimacing. "Oh dear."

"What?"

She eyed the bottle more closely.

"I might have taken a fire breathing potion instead."

She coughed. And then coughed again, banging her chest. With a third cough, a flame escaped her lips. As she spoke, smoke erupted from her lips.

"Where is that blasted antidote?"

She shuffled around, rushing to and from the fabric curtains and ignoring everything I tried to say to get her attention. She flicked through the shelf of bottles again, then rummaged desperately through her desk drawers, raking out every random object she had squashed in them.

"Oh dear, dear. My mouth is burning!"

I searched around, hoping that it would get her to finally focus on our conversation again. As she whipped up the carpet, spraying dust all over the room, I looked up to avoid sneezing. That is when I found it - a purple bottle, entangled in vines on the ceiling, labelled "ANTIDOTE" in thick handwriting. I looked to Anise again, who was climbing up a nearly-sparse bookshelf muttering to herself, and I opened my mouth to speak.

But then, I had an idea.

I reached up and pulled the bottle down from the vines' grasp. I held it in the air.

"Anise!"

She turned, hands and feet gripped on the bookshelf like a spider.

"Oh, bless you, my de-"

"-Tell me what I need to know. Or I will break it."

I was chilled by my own words, turning pale with guilt, but desperation had already taken hold, and it may have been my only opportunity to get answers from her.

She coughed again, a blast knocking her from the shelf and onto the floor with a mighty thud. She crawled towards me.

"Anything, your highness."

"Who did you help attend the ball? I need names."

"I would give you names if I remembered them," she wheezed, lifting herself up, "truth be told, my memory is not quite what it used to be in my old age. And I am such a busy woman! I helped so many the night of the ball!"

"Any that had glass slippers?"

She hummed a disjointed melody as more steam escaped her nostrils.

"This is about that mystery girl, isn't it?"

"Answer the question," I said, holding the bottle higher, "... please."

"Yes. One girl..." She tapped her chin a spluttered again, "...she goes by the name Cinderella."

"Cinderella?" I said, loosening my grip. "Surely that's not a real name?"

"That's all I know. Now, please!"

My gut told me not to believe her. As a faerie, she had every right to keep herself away from my personal ambitions. The Fae weren't ones to follow any sort of authority, even in a moment of desperation, and so I hesitated. The bottle began to loosen, and for a moment, I believed I was going to let it fall.

But then I saw her face welling with tears from the internal heat. An elderly woman, confused and losing her mind a little, whether she was exaggerating the extent of it or not. She reached out her arms desperately with a look on her face that none had given me before... genuine fear.

No one had been afraid of me before; I never even thought I was capable of instilling it. I hated it. It made my heart fall to my stomach.

I took a deep breath. My hand lowered.

Once the bottle was in her hands, she gulped it down instantly.

"Thank you," she gasped.

"Thank you too," I said quietly, the pit in my stomach still sunk, "sorry, but I must go now."

I paced away, back into the darkness, not even sure of where I was headed. I needed to escape the feeling; escape the look of heavy relief in the faerie's face that I listened to her pleas. My mother and father and grandfather used to rule nations by creating such fear. I could never do that - never again. The very idea made my throat clench. And yet I knew that that would have to be my duty one day - to command people and control them by whatever means necessary. But I was not my father, nor was I anything resembling a monarch.

Eventually, I came to the tunnel's end, squinting at the light outside.