The mirror whirled with black mist. Tatia ran, disappearing into the last of the clear air. As Gaia drew a deep breath, the ebony fog sucked back, and the mercurial surface in front of her reflected her room.

"Did we really see her?" Gaia asked.

"That was my father's sister. She vanished many years ago, and the children she taught are stuck. Some have their basic magic barely unlocked; the rest are like you. Holding the energy as it beats within, wondering if they will every be a proper fairy, just like you are trying to understand what is missing." Oberon faced her and touched her chest where her ribs met her ribs above her abdomen.

Gaia slapped his hand away, before she began to pace.

"How do you know?" She glared at him as she whirled to turn back toward the mirror.

"Your line is strong. There have been many before you, and power gives you a glimmering aura. You glow with a lavender sheen."

"Balderdash!" Gaia shouted.

Oberon sighed. "You have so much to learn. But we need to find Tatia and how she was abducted. Did you hear anything from her? Even one word, would give us a clue."

"Earthquake." Gaia stopped. "Do you have them here?"

"Not as a rule. Only one. And recently at that," Oberon admitted.

"Tatia wasn't even missed for almost three days as we put things back to right once more. Only the passage from her rooms to the Garden of Musing remains stubbornly blocked," Oberon said.

"Why didn't I meet her?" Aumia said.

"Because you haven't been blessed with a child. Fairy and human are unlikely to have any. I haven't heard of a single halfling born anywhere in the fairy realm," Oberon explained. "She kept to herself. Not a sociable woman at all. Sour really."

"Wasn't she happy? Why?" Gaia asked.

"Father would never say. They're twins you see, and she was always kind with the children as she helped them unlock their magic."

"I suppose it doesn't matter really. What we need to do is get the rubble cleared. I think we need to see what is under it. Why she disappeared is connected to her discontent. She hasn't passed over. She's alive and trapped." Gaia pressed her fist to the spot Oberon had touched moments before. "I can feel it here, she wants to come home."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"By all that's holy, magic or not, this is an impossible task."

King Ollen surveyed the fallen walls and the wilted flowers where they lay in broken pots between sandstone blocks tilted unnaturally. Water dripped between leaving muddy pools where soil littered the passage.

Oberon grunted as he put his back to a split block at the top of the pile and pushed his feet against the one behind it.

"Who did this. Or perhaps what is more the case." Ollen clapped his hands together, murmuring a strange set of syllables.

Pale yellow light shimmered over the debris, but nothing moved.

"Well now, that is unexpected." Oberon scrambled down. "Was that the cleansing spell?"

"There's magic at work here. And it is a dark as any I've ever felt." His father moved toward the rubble pile, touching the rock with the tips of his fingers.

Gaia nodded. "I feel it too. Much the same sensation as when the black mist appeared in the mirror. The same entity cast both spells. I am sure of it." She joined the fairy King where he stood studying the blockage.

"My sister always told us we need to study the black, if only to understand its ways. Otherwise how do we protect ourselves from the wicked? I wish I had listened to Tatia."

"Where is the the classroom?" Gaia asked.

"The door was dead center in this pile of broken wall. The passage was open to the skies. If you are nimble, like some of our youngsters, and willing to use your wings to manoeuvre, you can still get to it by flying over the castle's west wing," Aumia explained. 

"Let us study this pile of rock. Papa always said, when there is a pile of rubble, there is always a keystone. The one that you can remove when nothing else will budge. It will loosen everything so we can clear it," Gaia said.

"Look up there, how all the lighter yellow stones are leaned against the one darker brown in the middle." She pointed into the pile. "Concentrate on getting that one loose. But get your strongest fliers to do it from the air. Use ropes and pull it free."

"She's right. The magic that created this, isn't holding it. It's just the cause of the collapse. Bring Jasta and his crew. They build our walls. I want this rubble cleared and saved. We will build a new section to the Garden of Musing with it. To remind us to beware of the black," King Ollen declared.

"How long has this passage been closed off?" Gaia was curious.

"As long as I can remember," Oberon answered.

"That would be fifty of your years, so since just before Aumia arrived," King Ollen added.

"So, Tatia disappeared just before I came." Aumia's face fell, and she sat suddenly on the nearest slap of sandstone. "Where is Pippin?"

"Pippin?" Gaia wondered what occurred to Aumia.

"My lover, the one I left everything behind for." Her great aunt's face hardened into a stoic mask.

"He should be in the kitchens. He's usually there until our evening meal is served. He runs it. Makes the most delicious food," Jasta answered as he arrived. "What's my brother done now?"

"Would you please fetch him here. Drag him if you have to," Aumia insisted.

Jasta looked at King Ollen, and when he nodded, disappeared running back the way he came.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Harry nursed his whiskey for an hour, listening to the fiddler play and watching as the village folk danced between the tables. Setting the empty glass down on the glossy oaken bar, he stretched his arms above his head and arched his back.

"Tommy, I'm for a walk. Down to the oak grove. To the fairy circle below the lone tree. Until I see for myself, I'll be as twitchy as the barn cat's whiskers."

"Then go. I have no doubt there's a reason you're so anxious. Go. It's still light and will be for a while yet. Remember the little winged mites are wily. Don't get yourself trapped."

"Aye, I know the lore." He slipped down off the tall stool and bowed toward the musician's table. "Thank you for the lovely songs and dances, but I must be on my way."

He pushed through to the kitchen and out the back door toward the wall which divided the tavern from the house behind it. Vaulting up, he began to run, his feet light and sure as he raced toward the stones and the oak grove behind them.

The night was warm, the sky the palest of blue as the sun sank toward the west. In the east, the moon was already rising, catching the last rays of light. The beauty of his surroundings escaped Harry as he continued to run. His breath catching and the stitch in his side begged him to slow and take a moment, but he ignored it.

As he passed the stones, he turned toward the coast and the breeze whispering through the meadow where his father's sheep grazed, cooled his face. Jumping down, he followed a well worn path. The spot was popular with young couples who wanted a bit of privacy. No one sat on the bench at the fork between the fairy tree, and the grove with the impenetrable center.

Taking the left fork, he slowed to walk. His eyes alert, he scanned the brown packed dirt. He spotted the footprints when a ray of sunshine slipped between the trees around him. A boot print. He knew this one well. Gaia wore boots made for her by the village cobbler. Her feet, long and slender, were not easy to fit. Liam made sure she could walk easily. He knew his daughter well, and her restless nature was always on his mind.

"I knew it. I wonder what's amiss. The air here fairly shimmers with it," Harry whispered softly.

"Me!"

The voice came from a snarl of ivy vines wound around an oak sapling.

Harry peered between the triple triangle leaves and discovered a fairy man hiding there.

"Why?" His one word question was answered with a guilty shrug.

"Everything has caught up with me now, I need to run or the punishment will be dire." His voice trembled and his wings quivered.

"Better to face it man. It will only get worse if you run. What's your name? I'll help you if I can." The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood as shivers ran down his arms. Tommy's warning forgotten; he knew he was in the right place now.

"Pippin."