The car ride was silent, filled with the kind of heavy anticipation that made every familiar landmark seem somehow significant. Ali watched through the window as their small town gave way to winding country roads, her mother navigating turns with the kind of automatic precision that spoke of a journey made many times before.
They passed the old Miller farm, its weathered barn a stark silhouette against the morning sky. Past the covered bridge where Ali and her friends had spent countless summer afternoons swimming in the creek below. Past the abandoned apple orchard where local legends said strange lights sometimes danced between the gnarled trees after midnight. Had those stories, Ali wondered, been about the fae all along? Had she grown up surrounded by signs of their presence without ever recognizing them for what they were?
The silver bracelet felt warm against her wrist, and Ali found herself tracing its patterns again, trying to decipher meaning from the intricate swirls and lines. The velvet pouch of tokens sat heavy in her lap, removed from her bag at her mother's insistence before they left the house. "Keep them close," Danae had said. "Always within reach."
They turned onto a narrow dirt road Ali had never noticed before, though they must have driven past this spot hundreds of times. The trees grew closer here, their branches forming a canopy that filtered the sunlight into dappled patterns across the car's hood. The air felt different too—heavier somehow, charged with something that made the hair on Ali's arms stand up.
"Almost there," Danae said softly, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. It was the first either of them had spoken since leaving home.
The dirt road ended abruptly at what looked like an old stone wall, half-crumbled and covered in ivy. Beyond it, a meadow stretched into the distance, the grass rippling in patterns that didn't quite match the direction of the wind. Ali could see wildflowers dotting the field—Queen Anne's lace and black-eyed susans and others she couldn't name, all blooming out of season.
Danae parked the car and turned off the engine, but made no move to get out. "This is the crossing point," she said, staring straight ahead through the windshield. "One of them, anyway. It's... it's where I always crossed, during my summers."
Ali studied the seemingly ordinary wall and meadow. "I don't see anything special about it."
"You will," her mother said. "Once we cross the threshold, you'll see it differently. Everything will be different." She turned to Ali then, her expression intense. "Last chance to ask questions. Once we step through, I won't be able to tell you certain things. The knowledge will be... restricted."
A thousand questions crowded Ali's mind, but they all seemed inadequate in the face of what was about to happen. Finally, she asked, "Will you be able to stay with me? Even for a little while?"
Danae's face softened. "I can escort you to the outer boundaries of the Summer Court. After that..." She shook her head. "Those who have aged out of the agreement can't enter the inner court. It's part of the rules."
"How will I know what to do? Where to go?"
"There will be others," Danae said. "Other human tributes arriving today. And there will be... guides, of sorts. Fae assigned to help the tributes adjust." Her expression clouded slightly. "Be polite to them, but don't accept any personal favors. Don't let yourself become indebted. And remember—"
"Never give my full name, never make promises lightly, never accept food or drink without seeing others partake first," Ali recited. "I remember."
Her mother nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Then... I suppose it's time."
They got out of the car, the summer air warm and heavy around them. Ali clutched her bag in one hand and the velvet pouch of tokens in the other, following her mother along a narrow path that led to a gap in the old stone wall. Up close, Ali could see that some of the stones had patterns carved into them—spirals and curves that reminded her of the designs on her bracelet.
Danae stopped at the gap in the wall. "Once we step through, things will change. The path we take won't be... strictly physical. Don't be frightened by what you see or feel. Just keep hold of my hand and keep walking forward. No matter what happens, don't let go until I say it's safe. Understand?"
Ali nodded, her throat too tight for words. Her mother took her free hand, lacing their fingers together firmly.
"Ready?"
Another nod.
They stepped through the gap in the wall together.
The world... shifted. There was no other way to describe it. Colors became both brighter and somehow less substantial, like watercolors bleeding into each other. The air took on a shimmering quality, and Ali could suddenly see patterns in it—swirling designs that seemed to dance just at the edge of her vision. The meadow stretched out before them, but it was different now. The flowers moved in ways flowers shouldn't move, turning their faces toward them like curious onlookers. The grass rippled in elaborate patterns that spelled out words in a language Ali didn't know but somehow felt she should understand.
"Keep walking," Danae murmured. "Don't stop to look too closely at anything yet. There will be time for that later."
They followed a path that hadn't been visible from the other side of the wall—a ribbon of silver-white grass that wound through the meadow like a stream of moonlight. Ali's feet felt strange, as if they weren't quite touching the ground with each step. The air tasted like honey and starlight and something else she couldn't name—something wild and ancient that made her pulse quicken.
Time seemed to stretch and compress in odd ways. Ali couldn't tell if they'd been walking for minutes or hours. The meadow gave way to a forest, but it was like no forest she'd ever seen. The trees were impossibly tall, their trunks spiraling up into a canopy that seemed to catch and hold pieces of sky like stained glass. Flowers bloomed and withered and bloomed again as they passed, and somewhere in the distance, something that might have been music wove through the air like ribbons of sound.
"Almost there," Danae said, though her voice sounded strange—both closer and farther away than it should have been. "The outer boundary is just ahead. Do you see it?"
At first Ali didn't, but then... yes. There was something in the air ahead of them, like heat waves rising from hot pavement, but vertical instead of horizontal. As they got closer, she could see that it was actually a curtain of light, so thin as to be almost invisible, but definitely there.
They stopped a few feet from the boundary. Ali could see other figures in the distance now—shadowy shapes that might have been other tributes and their escorts, all converging on this point from different directions.
"This is where I leave you," Danae said softly. "Once you cross that boundary, you'll be officially in fae territory. The inner court is still some distance away, but there will be guides waiting on the other side to show you the way." She squeezed Ali's hand one last time before letting go. "Remember everything I told you. Remember who you are. And remember—I love you, no matter what happens."
Ali turned to her mother, suddenly desperate to memorize every detail of her face. "I love you too," she whispered.
"Go on," Danae said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Don't look back once you cross. Just keep moving forward until you reach the guides."
Ali took a deep breath, clutching her bag and the velvet pouch tightly. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she stepped through the curtain of light and into the realm of the fae.