FOR A MOMENT, I was a god.

For a moment, I held the balance of life and death within my palms; within my magic. Everyone seemed to realise that if I wished, I could render this building to ashes. Or shatter it in ice. To dictate someone's fate so easily —was this how deities felt?

What dangerous, fragile power.

As bloodthirsty as the coven of Wytches had seemed initially, they then fell back in reverence at their leader's words. At the word Eve.

Respect was abruptly laid before me —and it was such a jarring turn to the prior sequence of events that it took me a minute to readjust. The very ground I stepped on was promptly swept by sentient brooms; as was the path before me which I was meant to take.

I was half expecting a golden carpet to be rolled out.

It was no longer an ambush, but rather, a welcoming party. Given the unforeseen change of mood, I made sure to keep my wits about me.

The humans were released —though very reluctantly —upon my repeated request, before the Wytches sheathed their arrows and slung their bows over their shoulders. Every Wytch then filed through a doorway opposite the entrance which we had used.

The room that opened up beyond that was a palace fit for Faerie royalty —though the loungers and armchairs of black velvet contrasted aggressively with the ruined pale walls. In three corners for all to see, sat statues of Hekate, Vesta and Diana; their goddesses of wytchcraft, fire, hunting and the moon.

The excess of the cracks and exposed framing was draped with long, thick curtains of gold.

"Looks as though someone has been inspired by your decorating talents, Adam," I whispered to him.

He frowned in offence but evidently avoided my gaze in a way which told me that I had gotten to him.

"Welcome to our humble abode," the coven leader addressed us. "I am Hart; leader of the Flame Lily Coven. We apologise for the unsightly mess —we did not know beforehand of your arrival."

"It is beautiful, regardless," I offered truthfully.

"Your generous compliment is graciously accepted," she beamed, going so far as to bow slightly.

She led us to an obsidian dais located a little way from the cluster of the now occupied velvet seating area against the back wall. The other Wytches ( only eleven in total ) sprawled there behind us and chatted incessantly —I only managed to pick out a few words like Dreamcatcher and unworthy and again, Eve.

"They're talking about you," Georgia murmured to me.

"So I can hear," I hissed as I sunk down on the ottoman placed in front of the coven leader's iron throne, sculpted like a trunk of winding ivy. The teenager and soldier took their seats either side of me.

Above the dais, the ceiling was carved into a pocket and archway. That open part of it was shaped like a hollow and bottomless triangular prism. And painted on the pale white surface, were the phases of the moon; stars; goddesses; and a multitude of runes.

Hart waltzed in after us and took her place on the throne; her fiery gown flickering as it swished and settled. The angle at which she now was poised —it felt like being judged by an almighty queen.

"I apologise for my girls," she sighed, mainly addressing the humans, "it has been a while since we found the Gate again and stumbled across intruders."

"So it was sieged?" Georgia piped up.

"Indeed," Hart confirmed gravely. "Our numbers were dwindling. I had no choice but to use the Gate one last time during battle to save my coven. Death before dishonour —that is what creatures of magic live by. And while I lost many sisters to that philosophy, I saved as many as I could. Because this Gate would still need guardians —and that was the highest priority to me."

She made logical sense. Guarding the Gate was certainly of more consequence than upholding a motto.

"If you reclaimed the Gate, why is a human flag flying atop the building?" I then inquired.

She smiled softly. "We have been meaning to set it alight and fully celebrate at the winter solstice," she explained. "Unfortunately that is still quite some time away. In the meantime, while our magic is replenishing, we have left it to rot and deteriorate as it is exposed to the elements." She then glanced at my travelling companions. "...No offence," she offered.

They mumbled and shook their heads —feeling sheepish on behalf of their kind, if anything.

"Now," I gained Hart's attention again, "I have some questions that need answers. We cannot stay long."

"I understand," said Hart. "Go ahead."

"What is an Eve? And what makes me one of them?" I frowned. "I certainly hope it has nothing to do with some kind of prophecy. I hate that sort of thing."

"No, it is nothing quite so pretentious as a prophecy," the coven leader assured me with a soft laugh. "Being an Eve is not limited to one person —nor is it valued by destiny. It is random, for the most part. There are however, a select few who are more gifted."

"Where am I on the scale?" I could not resist asking.

"We cannot be sure from just what you have shown us," she admitted, eyeing me carefully. "But I would guess that you are quite average."

Adam and Georgia winced —but I was rather pleased. If I posed a less than serious threat, then there was no need for anyone to worry about my potential.

"What exactly does Eve mean?" Georgia said a little impatiently. I had to remind myself that she had never heard of the term until today.

"In the simplest form," said Hart, "it is a classification of a being acquiring any type of magic of their own, when they had had none before."

"I heard that it is to do with pain," I quipped, leaning forward. "Where does that aspect fit in?"

"Well, the moment the magic sets in has been described in varying degrees of pain," the Wytch mused. "What was your pain, Dreamcatcher?"

I paused, considering the presence of Adam beside me. "...I was burned by mortal flamethrowers," I meekly admitted. "It was a...misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Georgia spluttered, her eyes widening. "They tried to kill us. You had bandages on both of your arms for a week!"

There was an awkward silence as the coven leader sucked on her teeth thoughtfully.

Adam looked in any direction but mine; very obviously realising to what I was referring. I did not tell it quite as it had happened, because of the behaviour of the soldiers. Soldiers who were likely nothing like him, but still painted him in an awful light.

I pressed my lips into a line and tried not to be as uncomfortable outwardly as I was on the inside. But I had already thought that my magic had manifested as a defence, so I felt no guilt.

Even though my powers were nothing spectacular, I wondered why they had been bestowed upon me. I was sure that there were worthier subjects —even Dreamcatchers, than myself. It felt as though the magic would be wasted.

Utterly wasted on me.

"You survived being burned alive?" Adam then questioned, still not looking at me. After the initial surprise, I nodded. "...Can all of you do that?" he added.

"Yes."

"And none of you fought in the war?" he continued, his brows furrowing further.

I frowned at what he was insinuating. Was he seriously suggesting that my people had fled from and had not fought in the war out of complete selfishness?

"Dreamcatchers are not creatures of battle," I clipped. "Even with our indestructibility, we would have been quite useless in actual combat."

"That sounds like an excuse," Adam scoffed.

That hit me differently. No one had ever spoken about the war in this way as I now heard. Did Adam love war so much that he thought it a badge of honour —to have killed the numerous people he had?

I had to remind myself of that fact; that he had killed.

"Every species has its weakness," I murmured.

He slouched a bit, dissatisfied with my answer.

Hart then came to my rescue with, "I just remembered that I did not fully elaborate on what an Eve is."

A welcome mercy.

"Please, go on," I grimaced.

"The humans have two meanings for Eve," she explained. "The first is that ditsy mortal woman in a garden. The second, is the period before a certain event. We creatures of magic take on the second meaning: Eves appear to foretell events —they are a beginning."

A shiver travelled up my spine, and Adam sat up to attention; every muscle in his body pulling taut.

"What is it?" Hart asked, sensing the tension. Georgia then gave us a sidelong glance.

The soldier and I turned to look at each other in unnerving sync. I mirrored his unreadable look —but we were both thinking the same thing.

"I...have dreams," I told Hart, turning to face her halfway through the sentence.

She did not react. "You mean, aspirations?"

"No," I said seriously. "I dream. I have nightmares. Like everyone who sleeps —except I...am awake."

The coven leader shifted on her throne as her eyes narrowed and her brows knitted together in bewilderment. I bit my lip anxiously, unsure of what to expect. Was I now a freak of nature?

Then Hart spoke, "It has been many centuries since the last Eve. Selected covens like this one are used to discover and train them so they can control their magic. In my lifetime, there have been five humans and one half-Elf. The humans went on to become Wyzards, and the half-Elf blended in with its people. To my knowledge, no Dreamcatcher has ever been an Eve."

"Not one?" I murmured.

"Not one," Hart returned.

I supposed I was a beginning in that way as well.

"So, her dreams," Adam spoke up, "Are they to do with all of this or is there something else at play?"

"I cannot explain the dreaming," sighed the Wytch. "That is something which the Dreamcatcher Authority must examine for itself."

I sucked in an involuntary breath at the mention of that organisation —and it gained both of the humans' attention. I feigned innocence by lightly clearing my throat.

The issue was not that Hart knew about the Dreamcatcher Authority —all creatures of magic knew. I just questioned the nature of her connection to them. Of course, she was happy to host me; but would she too, sell me out if the opportunity presented itself?

"Purple," Georgia's voice then said softly.

I started —before following her gaze and glancing downwards at frosted hands. My jaw slackened. Intricate and delicate gloves of snow coated my skin; and I understood that it reflected my anxiety. Near instantly, I burned it away.

But she had noticed. I knew that she had seen.

My gaze lifted to meet Hart's —and the luminescent silver appeared to pull me into a feeling of severe peril. My consciousness vacated its vessel and plunged into hers, drowned in it —and she watched me sink. I was incapable of thrashing. I simply sat and let her hold me. Control me. Completely pin me —

Then Adam placed a hand on my arm. Electricity shot through me where his skin touched mine, and I seemed to regain my will. Myself.

I drew a breath. I dared not even regard the Wytch. What on Earth had that just been? Feeling violated, I crossed my legs and shifted inwards.

I had only ever heard of compelling in passing. Of locking eyes with a stranger and removing their very soul from themselves, in order to do one's bidding.

If Hart possessed that ability then we were at an unfathomable disadvantage. What in the gods' names were we still doing here, when the coven could have taken so many steps ahead of us already?

It was not so much that I could be caught —it was about the amount of time I would have to aid Adam on his quest. I had to devote as much time as possible.

I abruptly stood to my feet, startling those around me; while I felt nervously uneasy and keen on leaving. The longer we remained the more of a chance the Wytches had of relaying the message to have me captured.

I plastered a simpering smile for Hart. "Thank you for your hospitality and cooperation; you have been very welcoming. And your answers were most insightful," I rambled through.

She blinked, pausing to process what I had said. "...It was my honour," she then replied earnestly. It was as though she had lost track of the past few seconds as well. As if they had not happened.

If she could compel, she certainly had not mastered it.

I impatiently tugged my travelling companions to their feet, emphasising the urgency. "If you do not mind, we should be on our way. We need to use the Gate."

Hart obliged us right away, without a second thought. I willed my muscles to loosen, to ease. She worshiped me again. In fact it actually inflated my pride just a bit, letting my wonder what else I could accomplish simply by throwing around the word Eve.

What a terrible, wicked power.

The coven leader led us down the passageway which was concealed by her throne. It opened up to a significantly smaller room, occupied solely by the Gate: it was ring of steel similar to Adam's DIY project, but twice as large. The Gate structure was also hollow —switched off. It needed magic to operate.

"Backwards or forwards, Dreamcatcher?" Hart asked, her hands poised for the spell.

"Backwards," I answered.

The Wytch then rotated her arms in a circle anti-clockwise; as though she were loosening a giant valve. Red fire then ignited along the twisting concentric path, before trailing off towards the Gate. The fire filled the hole, then turned into a solid surface of magic.

It swirled hypnotically, begging for us to enter.

"Please exercise caution," Hart pleaded. "The Beta Plane especially —they will not take kindly to humans. No matter your abilities."

I swallowed nervously but nodded. I was fully aware of the dangers. The Beta was definitely the worst.

"May Hekate show you favour," she then bid farewell, before turning to take her leave and causing the flames of her gown to lick the walls.

Adam, Georgia and I then stepped up to the Gate. The magic raged, blowing back my hair. I clenched my fists, knowing to brace myself. I glanced at Adam —and he seemed to know that much.

I still felt uncomfortable about him —and my body almost recoiled from his where we stood. That question as to why my kind had not fought...it was not even his call. It was not any of his business.

But I had to swallow that. I had to park the issue and focus the one that was now ahead of me.

"There is no turning back now," I breathed.

Both humans inhaled sharply. Georgia glanced behind us, at the familiar. She had never been anywhere else. Maybe she was not ready to leave her world.

Adam noticed her dithering.

"Last chance to stay, pipsqueak," he warned the girl; and his eyes glinted while his lips curved upwards in what resembled a smirk.

The teenager's expression turned sour and determined at the sound of his voice; at the belittling. She hefted her backpack, and rolled her eyes.

"Fuck off," she scoffed —and walked in ahead of us. She slipped through the fire as easily as water.

My feet moved on their own. I knew that we could not leave too much time after her departure, lest we wanted to find what new and despicable ways in which the Fae Folk could torture a human.

Adam then turned to me.

I wanted to —I really wanted to ignore his questions and see him as I had this morning. Yet something within me would not give.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked; his tone almost taunting. He had not noticed my unease.

Inhaling sharply, I then glanced ahead at the fire.

I subtly shook my head. "This place was no home."