Diamond Marked: The Tale of El'Anret: The Tale of El'Anret

Queen of Diamonds

◊ A Tale of El'Anret ◊

There’s a long dark road

With a deep dark hole

That the hazel-eyed girl crawled in

It twisted and turned

And the flames bright burned

That singed right to her skin

One

THE SUNLIGHT SHONE between black oak boughs, sprinkling nodes of light onto Hazel Leigh Mac Tíre’s stark white paper, illuminating the words that described last night’s dream.

Glittering eyes. Lavender. Darkness.

She never knew why dreams didn’t come to her. Ever since she was a little girl, she had been envious of her friends, who dreamed with such fervor that they thought their visions would come true. As far as Leigh knew, none of them had; they lived in a small Mississippi town, and it wasn’t exactly the City of Dreams. Most people who were born here, died here, mulling away at their father’s profession, who also worked for his father, just like his father before him.

And Leigh was just fine with that. She spent her weekends working on her father’s farm, knowing that someday, she would take over. With her high school graduation just months away, it wouldn’t be long before the farm life became her full-time life. 

She shaded in a simple drawing of herself in the margins: shoulder-length chestnut brown hair, a wide nose that still came to a sloping point, smiling lips, and hazel eyes, all drawn about a heart-shaped face. Beside that, she drew a stray line, then another, straining to remember the beast in the darkness.

Frustrated, she whipped up a massive question mark.

Leigh! A tiny voice called in singsong from across the backyard, breaking her daze, come play Monsters and Kings with me!

A little boy toddled up to where she was perched on the two-seater rocking chair, and in his chubby fingers he held a crown and paper mask. The mask had green skin, big, yellow eyes, and a roaring mouth full of crooked teeth with two long tusks at either side. The crown was silver, with large plastic sapphires adorning each of three points.

A smile chased away her furrowed brows and frown. Sure, Ade, but this time, I get to be the Queen!

Leigh donned the crown and chased her masked brother into the setting sun. Around and around they went, the Queen barely keeping up with the monster. As she closed in on him, snatching him high into the air, a rumble shook the earth so fiercely that they both toppled to the ground.

The doors to their shed clattered open. Each window along the back of their house wobbled, threatening to break under the pressure. Doors all about the house creaked and sighed, forced from their locks. Leigh held her brother close, pressing him against her chest as the world shuddered.

And in another moment, it was done, leaving everything ajar and askew but nothing changed.

Ade clung to his sister as she strove to stand. His mask fell to the ground, warped and torn. Leigh’s crown stayed atop her head, untouched.

It’s okay, bub, she cooed to him, wiping away stray tears that ran through dirt tracks along his face, it’s all right now. She couldn’t explain to her little brother what had just happened when he looked to her with searching blue eyes.

But she had a hunch.

THE NEWSCAST HAD INTERRUPTED the twangy voice of Randy Travis to recount the strangest story of the morning: And he simply disappeared, the newscaster repeated incredulously.

That’s right, Tina, and no one has seen Jonathan Hines since yesterday evening. Police are still searching the area of the supposed cave-in, where two eye-witnesses— female classmates of his, Jennifer Weiss and Courtney Jones— say the ground just opened up and swallowed him, before closing again. Officers on the case doubt these claims—

Leigh flipped the radio off, focusing on navigating the narrow road that led to her high school. Jonathan. She had known him since the sixth grade, when he and his family moved into town and started a farm that rivaled Mac Tíre’s. Over market meetings and deliveries, their dads became friends, her father eventually becoming business partners with Mr. Hines. Now, they worked in tandem, and Leigh had spent many Saturdays prepping eggs for sale and milking cows with the boy.

The news reporters apparently hadn’t believed in the folklore of the Sidhe, or the creatures that lived within. Every person in the South was superstitious, though. Even if they vehemently denied it in conversation, they’d still sneak black eyed peas, greens and ham on New Year’s Day, knock on wood, and avoid splitting poles with people they loved. They’d whisper rhymes about Faeries and rain and lucky pennies under their breath. They didn’t have to believe it out loud to be wary of it.

And cave-ins were not unheard of. Then again, they never closed on their own. History was speckled with tales of open mounds, luring curious victims to the land of the Faerie—to their deaths.

The Fair Folk aren’t always fair, Leigh thought idly. She knew that truth from the stories that had followed her ancestors across the ocean. Rhymes and bedtime stories relied on the truth behind fairytales.

Not all mounds are Fae barrows, like not all crows are ravens.

But all ravens are crows, and sometimes, things don’t belie their natures.

Leigh pulled into the student parking lot, letting the engine idle as glittering eyes ran through her consciousness once again, chasing away thoughts of Jonathan and the mound.

It was going to be a long day.

LEIGH HAD JUST PULLED into the long driveway leading to her house when it began. The earth shook under her tires, rattling everything not firmly rooted to the ground. Grabbing her backpack, she raced for the backyard, where the loudest noises originated.

That’s when she saw it.

It began as small as a mole’s hill, growing and growing as the seconds ticked by, until a hole that spanned three feet wide sat against an open mouth of dirt.

She had heard the rhyme all her life: If a mole’s hill grows, stay away; for it is a gateway to the land of Fae. Magic and revelry may beckon, but fire awaits without resurrection.

Fire. She had seen no flames—just the mound, its cavernous maw dark and silent. One peek in. For safety’s sake, she told herself. For Ade’s sake, in case it was something else entirely.

Something more dangerous.

On her knees, she crawled forth, peering into the darkness below the lip of earth. The setting sun did not reach the bottom of the hole, its hazy beams of light only streaking across part of the far wall, losing itself to darkness a few feet down.

One breath, then another. Suddenly, the smell of sweet and exotic spices assaulted her, lingering all about her as though she were in the kitchen of royalty. Music crept up the walls of the hole— flutes and bagpipes, drums upon drums upon drums, layers of music so beautiful that newly-sprung tears fell to their deaths at the mercy of the mound. Alarms sounded in her ears—every warning she had ever heard about the Fae and other creatures of the magical persuasion.

Run! She yelled aloud to herself, once and again. Before she could pull back, it was too late. Down, down, down she fell. 

Darkness on Earth knew nothing of its cousin here. The pitch black about her seemed to move, writhing along with her flailing movements, filling the spaces between her body and the dirt walls. Her screams did nothing to interrupt the music that played, its volume steadily raising as she plummeted.

Orange light raced towards her, flickering and moving as if it were fire.

Leigh’s eyes widened. Fire.

Beneath her, massive rings of fire surged, the flames licking over every inch of the hole’s width. Each of the rings spun around, hooping about one another as they covered the opening, waiting to swallow anyone—or anything—foolhardy enough to tempt them.

This is it, she thought to herself, this is the end of the poem...

This is where mortals die.

As the flames met her body, the pain was like nothing she had ever felt before. Each ring of fire claimed her skin for its own. She could feel lines of seared skin welt up along her arms, the skin itching and burning and blistering. She screamed, her breath making the flames rise even higher. Waiting for her hair to catch fire, waiting for the inevitable, she pinched her eyes shut against the smoke that wafted from her body.

And then it was over.

The pain that had overthrown her senses was dying down. Her hair and clothing were intact—not even singed, though they were covered in soot and ash. She ran her fingers along her entire body the best she could while tumbling, feeling only welted, scarred skin on the back of each arm. Four lines met together on each tricep, creating two square shapes.

She was alive. Alive. Mortals weren’t supposed to live through the fire. What did it mean? 

The music continued through her thoughts, her questions, her panic. But as she got closer to the source of the sound, it changed.

A steady thump thump kept time as a smooth, electronic buzz came through, like music made on a Tesla coil. Another faint line of notes overlapped the two, creating a melody that was so enchanting, Leigh couldn’t resist. Her head dipped, bobbing in time to the trance music, her eyes closed and heart racing. As her descent slowed, lights began to shine upwards through the dirt tunnel, and the murmurs of a hundred voices followed.

She landed on her feet, delicately as a petal on the wind, and opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings.

Without a pause, the music blaring from an unknown source changed, a quick House beat erasing the memories of anything before her arrival. The music of the soiree throbbed in her veins, ethereal beats layered like techno magic. Throngs of bodies bounced to the beat—boys with horns, girls covered in pearls and glittering scales, buffalo men and winged pixies that hid sharpened fangs behind gorgeously painted lips, surprising Hazel when they grinned at her from across the dirt dance floor.

Ahead sat a massive crystalline throne. Red, green, blue—all colors pulsed through the quartz, the sharpened edges refracting the lights like a disco ball. A girl draped across the seat, her shoulders on one arm, her legs dangling over the other. Clad all in black against pale skin, she was striking: a Triquetra was buzzed into one side of shaved hair while a long tuft of lavender hair hung down her face on the opposite side. Rings ran the length of her slender, pointed ears, matching the silver hoop that circled her left nostril. When she smiled, severely pointed canines flashed, their lengths glimmering in the light. Golden eyes met Leigh’s like a tiger eyeing prey.

The purple-haired Fae grinned, her slitted eyes following the sway of the crowd. Finding an unfamiliar target, she nodded, and a boy stepped over, blocking Leigh’s view.

He was tall and lean, hints of muscle peeking out from the open buttons of a white tunic-style shirt that looked like it had been splashed with black paint. Choppy lavender hair lay across his brow, barely dipping down into his vision. He was familiar to Leigh in a way she didn’t understand.

His golden eyes called come a little bit closer.

She moved towards him, magnetized and not entirely able to control herself, the crowd parting like broken waves around her. As he met her, his hands moved up each arm, rubbing over the scars that crested along her triceps once and again.

Then he kissed her, full and deep.

Leigh’s mind spiraled into his touch, losing herself to the taste and the beat. She could feel jagged teeth along the edge of her tongue.

As the music swelled to a crest, he let her go. She fell back into herself, shocked and embarrassed by the brashness of the moment. The boy smiled, looking identical to the Fae atop the throne as he backed away, leaving Leigh to writhe under his broken spell. The boy moved to the crystal seat, nodding and whispering to the purple-haired girl. Her face changed, contorting into a portrait of fury.

Her voice shrilled over the crowd. Well, well, well. We have an uninvited guest here in our Twilight Court. And what might your name be?

Leigh hesitated; she knew that Fae did not give their names so easily, but she wasn’t so sure about humans. Swallowing, she mumbled it out. Hazel Leigh Mac Tíre.

"Ooh, Mac Tíre! Hazel Leigh the Wolf. The Fae girl smiled. Tell me girl, are you the Big Bad Wolf? Who is afraid of you?"

Just Leigh. And... n—no, I— 

Shall we eat her, your majesty? A squat, bloated, grayish-green creature chortled.

Chop her up into stew? Another, higher-pitched voice called.

"Now now, lassies and gents. No eating Just Leigh, the supposed Queen of Diamonds."

A hundred gasps sucked the air from the room. Hushed whispers started slowly enough, spreading around rapidly. Leigh could see the confusion spreading like wildfire, too.

"She, the Queen of Diamonds?" The creature no longer seemed interested in eating her.

The purple-haired boy approached her, spinning her to the crowd. Twin diamonds, forged in fire, lay across her triceps.

It is as the prophecy foretold, shrilled a tiny pixie, flittering up to Leigh’s skin and touching the burns for herself. They are real.

Queen? I—I’m no Queen. I fell through the barrow—

Do you not know the stories? Tsk-tsk, stupid girl, added a woman sitting in a frothy green tub, the bottom portion of her body smooth and gray like a seal. The one who is marked by the Searing Eyes becomes the Queen of El’anret.

El— Leigh started, her voice quickly drowned out.

Hah! That was the way of old, the girl atop the throne shouted, "but we are in a new age, and I am your Queen. And I will not bow to some stinking mortal, markings or no."

Alexandria— the lavender-haired boy started.

"Lex. Lex! For the love of the Wyldwood. Friends, lovers, comrades—they all call me Lex, Gideon. And I don’t want to hear it. As for you, she turned on Leigh once more, you may call me nothing at all. I rule this kingdom. End of story."

A bald, hobbled humanoid shuffled forward. Tiny spectacles hung from his elongated nose, and as his coat barely fluttered open with each movement, Leigh could see straight through his translucent skin.  He tilted his head upward, magnifying the rogue queen through the lenses. But, if the markings are the work of the Searing Eyes, we cannot disobey. She must be instated and given her throne as rightful Queen.

You’re disobeying your Queen as we speak, said Lex, a feral smirk matching her livid eyes. Gideon. Now.

That isn’t necess—

"I didn’t ask you for reply. Do as your sister bids."

The purple-haired boy approached the Halfling. Struggle as he did, Gideon snatched him up, snapping his neck in a gruesome series of pops.

He held out the limp form, dropping it carelessly to the ground at Leigh’s feet. The Halfling’s tongue lolled from his gaping mouth, touching her shoe.

Leigh thought she might vomit, covering her mouth and stumbling back from the body. She finally understood a skosh of what— or who—she was dealing with.

That is but a taste of power, Leigh Mac Tíre, Lex growled, venom dripping from her words. Should you ever question my court again, I’ll have infinitely worse torture for you. Death will not heed you quickly, though you will certainly beg for His aid.

Tears formed at the crests of Leigh’s eyes. Words did not come, even as an entire court of monsters stared her down, waiting. Just as she gathered her thoughts to speak, an arm wrapped around hers, pulling her from the center of the dance floor. She didn't have time to hesitate.

Yes! Lex laughed, a wild, screeching laugh, Run back to your world, little wolf, if you can.

In darkness, the creature led her through a series of tunnels, eventually meeting the even ground outside. The sky above them shined purple, casting a faint glow across the flowers and trees that surrounded them. 

Please, stop! Tell me, where are you taking me?! Don’t hurt me, and I won’t hurt— In the twilight, Leigh could now see its features: green, buggy eyes protruded from a face of tree bark. A wide, flat strip of bark stuck out at an angle, forming a ridged nose over a hole of a mouth. The creature’s body, while shaped human enough, was covered in bark and tiny green fronds, its arms and legs formed from narrow branches, as if it were in its budding youth. To her, the eyes looked so familiar...

Leigh.

The voice sounded like wood being sawed in half. She studied the face a moment more before realization hit her.

Jonathan?

The tree smiled, forcing flakes of bark to fall from his wooden cheeks. Leigh, you shouldn’t be here. You should have never gone down the mound—

Jonathan! The whole town thinks you’re dead! No one believes the girls who saw you vanish... what happened to you?

He looked away, absently studying the flora about them. Death doesn’t always wait at the bottom. Sometimes, he lifted an arm, wafting his other hand through the greenery that hung down, they take you for their own.

Leigh’s head was spinning. She had fallen under that Fae— Gideon’s?— spell so easily, without even the slightest hesitation. What if this was another trick? What could she believe? And what was wrong with her? 

There were no paths to follow from the clearing that surrounded the tunnel’s end. Leigh looked around, searching for footprints, searching for anything that could lead her home.

"Listen, Jonathan, Leigh was careful about putting emphasis on his name, fearful of a lashing out, but just brave enough to question it, I need to find my way back home. She hesitated to say more; then again, the Faerie already knew her name. People will be waiting for me. Furious and worried, I’m sure."

Jonathan smiled once more. "Your parents. And Ade, I know. I’ll help you get back. There’s an opening not far from here—a tear between existences. They say that it’s a fast track to the human side of the world."

Leigh’s features softened at her little brother’s name. It really is you. Oh, Jonathan, she paused a moment, you’ll come with me, right?

As his green eyes met hers, he frowned, shaking his head until stray leaves fell from his head. "The Rite of Fae. I’m a Woodskeeper now, so there aren’t any secrets left in these territories. Lex said that the opening should be destroyed.

And the tear only works for those who are part of the Diamond Court of the Searing Eyes... I’m just a part of the scenery now.

Don’t say that—

I tried, Leigh. His voice raised to a sawing frenzy. He spat splinters as he yelled. Tried to find a way back. The fire—my God, the fire—it burned me up so badly. I fell into this world barely alive. They said they could save me. I didn’t question how.

Leigh furrowed her brows. This is how...?

"They stole my mortality from me, and gave me a life that they could control. I can’t ever go back, Leigh.

But I can save you, my Queen.

He pointed through a mass of bushes, willing them to part. As each one bent to the ground, he took Leigh’s hand once more, leading her through. Each flower in their path bowed to her. Every flittering hummingbird with their gilded beaks and silvery wings paused in her presence, dipping their heads ever so slightly.

You’ve got to know that I’m not really their Queen.

A jigsaw of a laugh. There are things in this world that your mind can’t even handle imagining. But one thing you can rely on, is a hummingbird telling the truth. That flowers only bow to the righteous. It’s terrifying, I get it. You may not believe it now, but you are the rightful Queen of El’anret, the Land of Twilight.

The tear he spoke of was just ahead of them now; it looked like a literal tear, a gash in the backdrop of the forest, its edges jagged and hanging open. Blackness waited on the other side, between the two halves of the woodland.

Go, he said, his voice a whisper, and take this with you. With that, he plucked one of the budding stems from his knee, holding it out to her.

Horrified, Leigh reached out for the tiny branch, knowing that it was really a part of his body. I don’t want to leave you here!

There was a sadness in his eyes. I’m sure I’ll see you again.

With that, he pushed Leigh through the tear. Holding the two jagged edges of reality together, he waited, scrunching his eyes closed.

When he opened them again, Leigh was gone.

WITH A HARD THRUST that rattled her to the bone, Leigh was suddenly in her own front yard again, her face pressed against the dewy green grass. It was dawn all over again.

How long have I been gone?

She hurriedly pulled herself to a sitting position, rubbing each hand along the backs of her arms. The diamond marks remained, the burns now feeling like thousands of tiny scraps of metal stuck to her skin. Scraping against them made a terrible sound, like dragging fingers across the surface of a balloon. Pulling her hands back revealed handfuls of shavings, each one shining silver on black. Leigh shuddered.

It was real.

What would she do now? She defnitely couldn’t tell her parents what had happened—they would freak, and their worrying would do nothing to change it. Pulling her sleeves down, covering the diamonds while revealing her freckled shoulders above, she looked to the house.

From the looks of it, no one was awake yet. Without her keys, she would have to sneak through the garden and into the shed attached to the back of the house. Muffling each footfall, she made her way around back, watching for lights in each window as she passed.

The garden was quiet, save the gentle sloshing from the nearby pond’s pump. With a creeaak, she opened the door to the shed, stepping over and around the varied tools and budding plants that dotted the floor. At last, she opened the back door and quietly stepped inside.

A single lamp shined from the living room table. Leigh froze, listening, waiting for sound or movement. When none came, she rounded the island in the kitchen, barely peeking into the open room.

Leigh’s mother was asleep in her recliner. Guilt and anger rushed through her veins. She knew how her mom would worry, and thanks to the mound, she would be Marked and in trouble.

Damned Fae, she mumbled under her breath.

She tiptoed through the living room, making her way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and her comfy, waiting bed. Halfway through the hall, she stole a glance at the calendar hanging from the pantry door. FRIDAY was marked through with a big green X.

Good. Only one day gone, Leigh told herself. Tomorrow was farm day, and... Jonathan wouldn’t be there. She wondered if the Hines would be there at all, and if she had the heart to tell them his fate.

Jonathan.

Shuffling through her pockets, she found the branch—the tiny sliver of himself—that he had given her. Looking to her desk, she snatched an old bouquet of roses and snapdragons from their vase, dipping the end of the little twig into the water. It sagged gently against the glass, but it did stay afloat.

Leigh couldn’t help but think of what all Jonathan had said. Could she really be Queen of the Land of Twilight? Her mind was filled to the brim, wondering, questioning, reeling. She felt silly entertaining the notion, but a wildness in her felt giddy at the prospect.

No sooner than she laid her head down, did she fall into the sweet darkness of sleep. 

And in that sweet darkness, golden eyes watched her.

Two

DEEPEST SLEEP HAD BARELY come to Leigh before she heard quick little footsteps bouncing down the