All at once Eibhlin’s dreams came back to her. That woman, the one upon whose lap she had sat, the one had who smiled so kindly to her, the one who had danced happily with her father, the one who had suddenly disappeared one day, leaving tears and loneliness in her place. Now that face had a name.

“Kyra. Mother.”

Arianrhod smiled sadly. “Yes, ‘Mother.’ How your forgetfulness must make her grieve beyond the Gates, but your father never forgot. Even if he had tried, he couldn’t, not when his daughter so resembles her. Every day he grieved. Poor, pitiful man. No wonder he abandoned you. To see his dead wife every time he looks upon his daughter, what else could he do?”

Eibhlin felt sorrow and anger churn in her heart. She said, “My father didn’t abandon me. He just loves to help people.”

“Does he now? Well surely he doesn’t have to forget his daughter to remember others, does he?”

“Well… no….”

“The chicken coop. The window shutters. The leaky roof. The broken chair good only for the fire. Surely he did not need to neglect those repairs to address his neighbors’.”

“No.”

“Surely he didn’t need to leave you alone, give all his kindness and care to others and leave you alone at night, waiting for a father who breaks his promises. Waiting for someone who doesn’t come home.”

“No. He didn't.”

“There, you see?” said the Witch. “He abandoned you, abandoned his own flesh and blood in preference for strangers. But I can change that.”

Tears slid down Eibhlin’s cheeks, but she could not raise a hand to wipe them. “You can?”

The fairy witch smiled wider. “Well, not really ‘me’ in an exact sense, but you, Eibhlin. I can give you the chance to change it all. I can send you back, back to when your mother became sick, and you can save her, buy her the medicine and save her.”

“But how can I? Where would I get the money?”

“Why, you have the means with you now, a certain purse with access to infinite wealth.”

Eibhlin’s fingers twitched, and a sensation tingled up her arms and pricked her mind, like a spark, a lingering thought. “I can’t,” she said, though to speak it was a struggle. “I can’t use it. I mustn’t use that purse. It’s too risky.”

“Risky? Surely not! Why, do you think you shall get in trouble? In trouble with whom? Is it not yours to use?”

With the fairy’s words, the spark began to fade.

“And besides, even if it were not your own, surely no one would blame you for taking just a few gold coins to save a loved one’s life. Such a person would be cruel, heartless.”

The Witch’s words wrapped around Eibhlin. She knew something was not quite right with what the fairy said… or was there? Perhaps she was right. After all, it would be cruel, would it not, to hold back when you can help another person live. Do not people deserve to live? How is it fair that some people should die just because they lack money? Why should she not just take it? Besides, it would only be a little.

“That’s right. It’s not fair. Only a little, just enough to make it fair. It would only be a little, and then you can live again just like before. A lifetime of happiness. A second chance. I can send you back, right here, right now. It’ll only cost a little. I’ll only take a little.”

“A little what?” Eibhlin asked.

“Why, a little of your time, of course,” said the Witch. “Time travel is not without cost. Nothing is. But don’t worry. You’re young, and if you succeed, why, then it won’t even matter. You’ll have your whole life ahead of you. It’ll be like it didn’t cost a thing. So? Do we have a deal? Shall I send you back? Don’t you want to reclaim happiness?”

“I… I….”

Eibhlin couldn’t think. The spark from before had returned and grown steadily warmer. Now it felt like a fire in her head and hands. Something also pounded in her chest, almost like some creature trying to break out from a cage too small for it. Her head buzzed. A twinge of pain jolted from her hand up her arm. Reflexively, she brought her hand to her chest, and there she felt something that seemed to hum against her pulsing hand. A flash of curiosity moved her, and she pulled out a golden chain woven from strands of hair, and on it was strung a bronze com-pass and a pair of keys shining like crystallized starlight.

Keys? Why did she have keys? Not ordinary, either. Magic. Magical keys… and doors… and something about the purse… and a hammer… and… and….

Lochlann’s face floated into her thoughts. His smiling eyes and hearty laugh, the way he made every room warmer. Then, the expression faded. Fear, confusion, anger, grief, they were all there, though Eibhlin couldn’t tell which was strongest. He was searching for something, something important he could not find. What… the hammer… yes, he was searching for the hammer. Why? What had happened to it? And why keys—

All at once, the memories spilled forth, drowning the enchantments. And all at once the drowsiness shattered like ice, and Eibhlin finally saw. Everything looked the same, the moonlight, the room, the fairy, but its wonder and beauty melted away, and deep fear and dread crashed in. She remembered the dark elf attack, the realization of evil unmasked. That sensation returned, only stronger for the mask it had worn. It was craftier, older, an ancient chaos wise in its work, and for the first time, Eibhlin saw it clearly, like a void or chasm waiting to swallow her. But only for a moment. The instant she realized it, the mask invaded her awareness once more. The glow returned, as did the sweetness of the air, and she felt her mind drifting back to sleep. But she clung to that dread as she gripped Mealla’s keys. She spoke with a convic-tion she hung to with all her feeble strength. “No.”