The night before we were wrongfully imprisoned, we had sliced our palms and fell asleep holding each other’s hands tight, promising to reunite at the tattoo parlor on the corner of 11th and 3rd street. Five years later, finally a free woman once again, there I stood.

On that crowded street, with its high buildings and the city’s signature scent of piss, memories flooded back to me. I welcomed their sweet caresses. On the first day I came across the tattoo shop, I met an artist whose work was just as enchanting and exquisite as she was. Her green eyes sparkled when she talked. Her laugh left me drunk by the end of the tattoo session. Somehow, between then and the night we made our blood pact, Luna and I became more than just an artist and a client. More than just friends.

The tattoo parlor looked nearly unrecognizable today, riddling my stomach with anxiety. Weeds snaked up its brick walls, and the paint on its sign had died a peeling death. Using the reflection of the windows as a mirror, I smoothed my mousy brown hair and adjusted my corduroy jacket. There wasn’t much I could do about the bags under my eyes.

The door was ajar, so I let myself in. 

“Luna?” I asked the darkness. 

The air hung heavy with a mix of sour and metallic smells. Only slivers of light shining through the boarded up windows illuminated my way. Broken glass from a wine bottle crunched under my sneakers. A rose laid trampled on the tile floor. In the center of the store, I found a ring of burnt out candles. A gurgled cry escaped my throat when I found Luna’s body lying in the middle. Blood had dried around her nose and mouth. Her skin had a greenish tinge. With my powers stolen, all I could do was take Luna’s cold hand in mine for the last time and press it to my heart. In an instant, those sweet, nostalgic memories turned into daggers. They stabbed me repeatedly as hot tears streamed down my face. I had to find a way to make the pain stop before it killed me.

~

The forest outside the city beckoned me closer. The other magical beings lucky enough to escape the former president’s regime called it home. I believed it was also home to the one thing that could ease my suffering: the Amnes River. Whispers had circulated in prison that it was located on the highest mountain in the forest. I never thought I’d be one to seek it out. Until now. For the past month, every time I blinked images of Luna’s angelic face marred by death flashed through my mind. I couldn’t take it anymore.

The back of my throat tightened with the threat of tears. Quickening my pace, I made my way through the forest, over fallen branches and ducking under spiderwebs. 

In my haste, I must have not been watching where I was going, for a small voice shouted, “Hey! I’m walking here!” 

I looked down to find a fairy, who had clearly picked up a phrase or two from the New York humans, glaring at me with her tiny hands on her tiny hips. She wore a dress made from purple alfalfa petals. Her arm was looped through a basket of mushrooms. But there was something wrong with her wings; they were bent in half, and no longer sparkling.

Guilt burned my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Did I just do that?” I asked, my voice shaking.

She looked over her shoulder at her wings. “That? No, these puppies have been broken for a while. Five years to be exact.”

I understood what she was saying. During Samuel Richard’s presidency, his men must have captured her and stripped her of her magic, too.

“What you did do, giant, was nearly make me drop my mushrooms. But no need for the waterworks.”

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. “Sorry, the tears are unrelated.”

Without another word, the fairy stormed off in the same direction I was headed. 

“Are you going North?” I asked.

“Obviously, yeah. Who's asking?”

God, fairies had gotten feisty since I’d last talked to them.

“I could give you a ride.” I crouched down and extended my hand.

“Alright, thanks, I guess. But if you cry on me, I’ll drown. So hold it together, giant.”

After an hour or so of walking, I dropped Nyx off at her home inside a tree hollow. She seemed to have hated me less by then. At least she had started calling me by my name, Rosalia, instead of just “giant”.

“I have to get something for you real quick,” she said, “Ignore my little brother.”

That was quite hard to do, since he kept buzzing around me and messing with my backpack. Too bad I hadn’t thought to pack a fly swatter. 

When Nyx returned, she held a necklace with a small glass bottle full of a golden powder as a pendant. 

“Here. Giving me a ride was really cool of you. When you need it the most, this bottle will burst on its own and grant you with a special power. Until then, it’s unbreakable.”

~

Not even a few hours later, I found myself trying to smash open the bottle with a rock. Attempting to make a shelter and a fire proved to be very difficult without my pocket knife. I was convinced Nyx’s damned little brother swiped it off of me. But no matter how hard I tried, not even a crack could be found on the vial. 

I threw the rock, and it hit my lame attempt at a shelter, making the whole structure crumble to a pile of sticks. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—” I was about to continue my swearing rampage, until I noticed an old man floating cross-legged beside the clearing I had found. 

His beard was nearly as long as his black robe. He didn’t open his eyes when he spoke. 

“I will help you build the shelter you seek, but only if from your mouth I do not hear another peep. Your obscenities are interrupting my meditation time, and that is certainly a crime.”

I went back to rebuilding my roof. “Thank you, but I don’t need any help. And I'll keep the noise down, I didn't mean to disturb you.”

“A stubborn one, I see. That may be a problem for thee. Sticking to your rash guns, can leave you with bullets in your own lungs.”

“I’m not really sure what you’re talking about. I’ve got everything totally under control.” Just as I finished my sentence, the shelter came crashing down again.

He opened his left eye ever so slightly. “Really?”

“Okay. Actually, I would really appreciate it if you could help me—”

He held his pointer finger to his lips. “Shhh. Not a peep.”

I rolled my eyes and started gathering kindling for the fire while the wizard worked his magic.

My tongue was covered in bite marks by the time we were done. 

“Thank you so much, Mr…” I trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the gap.

“Buch.”

“Is that your real name, or did you just say that because it rhymes?”

He smiled. “My name and identity know no confines.”

~

I was a day away from making it to the Amnes River, and food rations were running low. The bushes of red berries I kept coming across as I trekked up the mountain became more tempting with every step. They looked so ripe and plump. Eventually, I succumbed to their pleading calls and picked one. Just as I was about to pop the berry into my mouth, a rough hand smacked my arm.

“Have you lost your mind? Honey, you’ll die if you eat one of those.”

A troll had appeared by my side. It was a strange sight to see one of those creatures, jaundiced fingernails, rotting teeth, boils and all, wearing a frilly pink apron.

I let the berry slip from my hand. “Really?”

“Oh yes. You’d be on the ground, choking on your own blood, in seconds.”

“You-you just saved my life. I can’t thank you enough.”

The troll shrugged. “Don’t sweat it, I just did what was right. Plus, between you and me, it would be bad for business to have a dead body lying around.”

He pointed to the left. “I own a bakery right around there by the oak trees. Doyle’s Delights.”

I nodded; that explained the apron.

He rooted around in the front pocket and retrieved a tantalizing muffin.

“If you’re hungry, eat this instead.”

“That’s so nice of you. But I don’t have any money.”

My stomach grumbled in defiance.

“None needed,” Doyle said. “I’m testing out a new recipe. How ‘bout you be my guinea pig? I insist.”

I gratefully took the muffin and devoured it in one bite. The taste of lemon and blueberries exploded on my pallet. Other flavors I had never experienced before delighted my taste buds.

“That’s the best fucking muffin I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

He clapped his hands together and grinned. “So you’ll stop by the bakery sometime?”

“Hell yes. I promise.”

~

I pushed aside a branch, and the Amnes River came into view. Sunlight made its reddish surface glitter. In the distance, a few beings gathered around the edge. Some drank from the river, others already lied on the grass, no doubt feeling the effects of its memory-erasing powers. I had finally found what I’d been searching for, but something held me back.

The memories of my time with Luna no longer felt like daggers. Only a dull ache throbbed in my heart—something bittersweet and nostalgic. I traced the scar on the palm of my hand, wondering if Mr. Buch’s rhyming nonsense had some truth to it.

“What if this is a rash decision?” I whispered to myself.

Erasing my memory would mean losing Luna completely. Never being able to replay the sound of her voice or her laugh in my head. 

I fidgeted with the bottle of pixie dust around my neck. “And what about Nyx and Doyle?”

The lessons I had learned from them, the kindness they had (eventually) shown (in the fairy’s case). Gone. I couldn’t let those memories go, could I?

My legs carried me closer to the river as I took in my surroundings. One man stuck out among the rest. A human, for certain. He stood perfectly still with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, looking out at the grieving beings who sought the comfort of the Amnes River.

A feeling of familiarity drew me closer to him. It was Samuel Richard. 

“Motherfucker. What the hell do you think you’re doing here? You’ve been banished from the country,” I spat.

The former president glared at me with hateful eyes. “Nothing will stop me from eradicating your kind.”

He gestured to the beings surrounding the river. It was then that I noticed their discolored skin and the blood oozing from their mouths and noses. 

My knees felt weak. “What did you do to them?” 

“Same as what I have done to all the others. Only exponentially more efficient this time. I got tired of poisoning you verminous monsters individually.”

He looked down at his shoes, the right one was blackened. “I mean, look at what one of you did to my Italian leather loafers. Bloody scorched it with a candle.”

It hit me. He must have done it. He killed Luna. “You’re going to regret what you’ve done.”

Samuel pulled out a Smith and Wesson from his pocket. “Really? Because I have a gun, and you have no powers.”

I charged at him regardless. The vial around my neck burst open, giving me the strength and the speed to push Samuel into the river before he could even pull the trigger.