Everett Royale and the Moonstruck Circle

Hello Internet!

As promised, here is an excerpt from one of my stories for Writing for Children. I hope you enjoy it!

The forest was singing again, and Everett Royale couldn’t sleep.

This, unfortunately, was nothing new. The forest behind the Royale’s house had sung on every full moon night for as long as Everett could remember. He still had no idea what caused it. It couldn’t be the birds--birds sang in the morning, not under the midnight stars. It couldn’t be people, because Everett’s family were the only ones who lived close to the woods, and they were all in bed. Obviously, it couldn’t be the trees themselves.  And no matter what Everett’s parents insisted, it wasn’t the cicadas. His parents couldn’t hear the singing, couldn’t recognize the lilting melodies that were obviously not caused by bugs. But Everett could.

He was bundled up in his blankets, listening to these melodies and staring out his window at the gleaming moon, when an idea struck him: he should go investigate. He was old enough now, after all. He had finally turned 12 last week, and his parents had told him that they were fine with him being out after dark. Granted, by “after dark” they probably didn’t mean at midnight, but they’d never specifically said he couldn’t go out that late.

That was a loophole, and Everett loved loopholes. So, a small grin on his face, he rolled out of bed and slipped on his shoes.

After a few minutes of awkward shuffling in the dark, he found his favorite sweatshirt and pulled it on over his pajamas. He snagged his flashlight off his cluttered desk and slipped it into his pocket. His night vision wasn’t terrible, but he’d much rather be safe than sorry. His mom and dad had always impressed on him the importance of being prepared.

Very slowly, Everett opened his door. He edged past his parents’ closed bedroom door and snuck down the stairs, careful to skip the squeaky step in the middle. He tiptoed across the living room, opened the front door, and stepped out into the crisp night air.

The sky was dark and bottomless, and the scent of something wild was in the air. The song had grown slightly louder, its melodies full and ferocious. Everett’s heart pounded double-time as he took a deep breath. His excitement rose in his throat, almost choking him, until he couldn’t stay still anymore. He leaped off the front step and ran.

The wet grass trailed against Everett’s ankles as he raced around the back of the house. As he approached the border of the woods, the music grew louder and louder, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. A low drumbeat that Everett had never heard before had joined the melody. It was ominous and slightly unsettling, and as Everett drew closer to the tree line, he slowed from a run, to a walk, to a halt. If anyone had asked him, he would’ve insisted he wasn’t scared. He was just…planning. Deciding the best way to attack the problem at hand. And he was definitely shivering from the crisp night air, nothing else.

After a moment, Everett headed for the trail on the far corner of the woods. He didn’t particularly want to use his flashlight and risk scaring off the source of the song, but he also didn’t want to trip over a branch or get stuck in a bramble bush.

He set off along the trail at a brisk walk. Tree branches loomed over his head, blocking out almost all the moonlight. The song had sounded loud from his lawn, but now it was almost overwhelming. The melody practically made the trees sway, the drumbeat hummed in his bones, and a shrill counter-melody made him want to cover his ears.

The music seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Still, Everett had set out on a mission, and he was determined to find the song’s source. He edged along the trail, listening hard and staring intently into the dark woods.

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the shadow until it was right on top of him.

Without warning, Everett was knocked clear off his feet. He rolled off the path, tumbled down a small incline, and landed in a patch of prickers. A dark form was on him a heartbeat later. Before he could even think to move, his arms were pinned and his mouth was covered.

He thrashed and screamed, but his shouts were muffled by flesh and his kicks didn’t land. The song was sickeningly loud now, like it was trying to explode his eardrums.

“Stop, stop, will you please just stop!” the person pinning Everett down hissed. To Everett’s surprise, it sounded like a girl, and her voice cut clearly through the clamoring music. “Stop fighting or they’re going to find us!”

His confusion overcoming his fear, Everett froze. “Who’s going to find us?” he asked. Or tried to ask. It was pretty much impossible to speak with the girl’s arm pressed into his mouth.

She ignored him, instead shifting her grip on his wrists. From what Everett could tell, she seemed to be trying to glance over her shoulder.

The next thing he knew, the girl was hauling him to his feet and shoving him back towards the trail. “Hide me,” she mumbled frantically. “Hide me, get me out of here, please.”

Everett found that he had had quite enough. He planted his feet, turned, pulled his flashlight out of his pocket, and shone it at the girl’s face. “Who are you?” he blurted.

She ducked out of the light before Everett could catch more than a glimpse of brown hair and wide, scared eyes. “I can’t give you my name,” she hissed. “Now turn that off and get us out of here. If you don’t, the Hunt will catch us, and we’ll be dead.”

At the word “dead,” Everett’s thumb jerked against the flashlight button and the light blinked out. Still, he didn’t move. “What hunt?” he asked. “Why should I believe you? Look, this is my family’s woods. What are you doing here?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a chilling howl split the air. For the second time that night, Everett froze. Around them, the music faltered for half a second, then resumed at a frantic pace.

Then the girl clutched his arm so hard it hurt. “Please,” she whispered, so close that her breath billowed over his face.  “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll give you my name, whatever you want. Just please, please, please get me out of this woods.”

There was real terror in her voice. Without another word, Everett grabbed her hand and ran.

They tore up the incline and onto the trail, Everett moving as fast as his feet would let him. The girl kept pace with him, tugging him forward when he slowed for even a moment. The music swelled around them, a bubble of sound, pushing them from all sides.

Then, three things happened simultaneously. Everett burst out of the woods. The music dropped drastically in volume, And the girl’s hand was torn out of his grip.

When Everett whirled around to see what had happened, the girl was hovering right at the edge of the tree line. She took a step forward, then winced and hopped back.

“What are you doing?” Everett hissed, thoroughly confused. “You want to get out of the woods? Then come on!”

“I can’t” the girl nearly wailed. She looked frantically over her shoulder, then back at Everett “You have to give me permission first. You have to say ‘I, your name, give you permission to leave the Moonstruck grounds.”

“Fine! I, your name, give you permission to leave the…the Moonstruck grounds!”

“No,” the girl spat at Everett. “You have to say your actual name, idiot! And whisper it, for the love of stardust!”

Baffled, terrified, and just a touch angry, Everett stormed over to the end of the trail. He reached out to the girl and she clasped his hand. Very, very quietly, he mumbled “I, Everett Royale, give you permission to leave the Moonstruck grounds.” Then, in one swift motion, he yanked the girl out of the forest.

As she stepped onto the lawn, the girl let out a huge, gasping sigh. “Thank you,” she said, letting go of Everett’s hand and dropping shakily to her knees. “Thank you. I…I cannot thank you enough.”

Everett shuffled awkwardly and glanced away. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go to the barn. We’ll be able to talk there, and you can tell me who you are and what you were doing in my woods.”

The girl climbed to her feet but, to Everett’s surprise, shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. Now that her fear was evidently gone, her voice was cool and confident. “Just wait a moment.”

Everett was feeling very fed up at this point, and he had just made up his mind to go wake his parents when the forest stopped singing. He stared at the dark trees, dumbfounded. That didn’t make any sense-- the song always continued until the break of dawn. Always. But the music had completely vanished, leaving only cricket chirps in its place.

“Wha..?” Everett started to ask.

“Shh,” the girl cut him off.

Then there was movement at the edge of the forest. As Everett and the girl watched from a few feet away, a dozen men and women emerged from the undergrowth, stopping just where the tree line met the lawn. They looked like humans, but they were tall and impossibly thin. In the bright moonlight, it was easy to see that most of them were carrying strange instruments: long, curled horns, elaborate flutes, and even a giant drum. With a burst of astonishment, Everett realized that they must’ve been the source of the music.

But even more shocking was the fact that every last one of them had wings.

Before Everett could even think about what that might mean, one of the men called out. He was the tallest of the group and was clad entirely in dark robes. He didn’t carry an instrument, and his wings shimmered an iridescent green behind him.

“Hostia Yew,” the man was glaring at the girl next to Everett. “You have disgraced yourself and your family. What is more, you have broken every rule of the sacred Full Moon Hunt. You will return to the Moonstruck grounds at once.”

The girl, Hostia, spat in the man’s direction. “I have left the grounds fairly, with permission from one who is qualified to give it. My wings are free, and my path is my own. I’m not your captive anymore, Venandi. You and your Hunt can go take a swim in the sun.”

Then, as Everett watched in stunned silence, wings unfurled from Hostia’s back. They were ethereal and brilliantly blue, and Hostia flapped them twice with solemn purpose. It seemed like she was daring Venandi to come and get her, but the man didn’t move. Instead, he turned his sneer on Everett.

“So, young master, you’ve captured yourself a fairy. Well done. But, in case you haven’t noticed, she already belongs to someone else. Bring her to the Moonstruck Circle within three days, or I will claim my rights and start a war that the human race is not prepared for.” Venandi flared his poison-green wings once, then stepped back, melting into the shadows. His entourage disappeared with him, leaving Everett and Hostia alone under the full moon.

Very slowly, Everett turned to Hostia. She was staring into the silent woods, her luminescent wings lighting her face just enough to show Everett that she was scowling. “What…what just happened?” he asked softly.

“We were given an ultimatum,” she snapped, not looking at him. “Three days. Three days to kill Venandi and save the world or die trying.”

“Kill him!” Everett yelped. “We can’t…why would we kill him?!”

Hostia turned on him then, looking positively enraged. She started to speak, then abruptly froze, her expression shifting from anger to surprise. Quickly, she raised her left hand and snapped once.

Thunk. Everett whirled to see a window opening on the second floor of the house. It was the one attached to his parent’s bedroom. “We’re dead, we’re dead, we’re so dead,” he whispered. He just had time to shut his eyes before a flashlight beam was dancing across his face.

But to Everett’s complete and utter astonishment, no alarm was raised. Very cautiously, he cracked one eye open. From up in the window, his parent—from this angle, he couldn’t tell if it was his mom or dad—turned the flashlight, sending its beam out across the lawn. The light swept over the trees, flashed against Hostia’s wings, and landed on Everett once more before disappearing.  A few seconds later, another quiet thunk signaled that the window had been shut.

“Wha…what?” Everett spluttered. He didn’t understand. Why hadn’t his parents yelled at him? Were they really ok with him being out at midnight? Even with a girl with wings? “What just happened?”

“Magic,” Hostia answered. She was looming next to him, her arms crossed and her wings fluttering triumphantly. “A short-term shadow spell. My first, actually, so it won’t last too long. We should get to cover.”

“Did…did you…did you just make us invisible?”

Hostia rolled her eyes at him. “Of course not, don’t be stupid. I just covered us with shadows, made us very difficult to see. Now come on, we need to come up with a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Yes, to kill Venandi. Let’s go. We don’t have much time, remember?”

Everett could practically feel his brain short-circuiting. None of it made any sense at all, and he was starting to wish that he’d never left his bed. Still, he supposed he did owe Hostia for saving him from the potential scolding of a lifetime. And she definitely owed him an explanation. So he shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it, then led the way to his family’s barn.

Everett’s parents had never given in to his pleas for a pet cow, so the barn was empty except for a couple of haybales under the back window. Everett flopped down heavily on one of the bales and Hostia sat across from him.

“So,” Hostia began. She was perched very primly on her bale, her wings shifting back and forth to help her balance. The bright moonlight shining through the window made her face look eerily pale. “I think we should try to contact with my family first. My dad might have some ideas, he’s always talking about a revolution. And we’ll need all the help we can get out here, of course, Venandi won’t…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Everett interjected. “Hold on.  Who are you?”

Hostia sighed impatiently. “Well, since Venandi already gave you my name, I guess there’s no harm in repeating it. I’m Hostia Yew, of the Faded Caste.” She bowed at the waist, spreading her arms with a flourish.

“Ok.” Everett said, even though that answer hadn’t told him much at all. “And, um…why do you have wings?”

Hostia straightened and wrinkled her nose at him. “Didn’t you hear Venandi? I’m a fairy, stupid. Now, can I have your name? I gave you mine, and besides, if we’re going to save the world together, I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘Scrawny Blond Boy.” It’s confusing and weird.”

At the word “fairy,” a dozen half-remembered bedtime stories tumbled into Everett’s mind. He recalled very little from the fairy tales his mother had read him as a child, but one point had stuck through the years: never give the fae your name.

Everett quickly shook his head. “You can’t have my name, it’s mine,” he blurted.

Hostia frowned at him. “Ok, maybe you aren’t quite as stupid as I thought. Fine. But what can I call you, then?”

“Battle,” he said after a moment. He wasn’t sure why his goofy childhood nickname was the first idea that popped into his head, but it was as good as anything. “You can call me Battle.”

“Battle,” Hostia echoed. “Alright. So, Battle, any more questions? Or can we get back to figuring out how we’re going to kill the most powerful fairy I know in only three days?”

Everett had lots more questions. So many, in fact, that he felt like his brain might explode if he didn’t ask them. But oddly enough, his mouth refused to open. He had just enough time to realize that his body wasn’t obeying him before shadows swarmed over his vision, drowning him in darkness. He heard a mumbled “oh that’s not good” from Hostia, and then he was falling, falling, falling…