The last hope

You lift the small box with some difficulty. Inside is a single gold coin and a note with only your name in its handwriting. You frown as the note is different than anything you know your father to write to you. The note reads, "Don't open this, but open this." You have no idea what your father could be trying to tell you.

Without reading more, you return the note to its place on the floor and carefully put the box back onto the floorboard. You read more of your father's letter, and your brow furrows. The rest of the letter is a series of numbers in a strange sequence.

You shrug and go downstairs to pour boiling water on the fruit of the morning. No one likes cold fruit. You pass by a doorway and notice the front door is slightly open. You have never seen it this way before. You remind yourself that even when it is open, your mistress Ayla still locks it when she leaves. You have only watched her do this twice, and you have seen that it demands all of her attention. As you strike the embers in the fireplace to start the fire, you hear the sound of the door closing. You turn to see Ayla entering the room with an air of detachment, her face painted a blank, emotionless black. She walks to the fireplace, not looking at you, and lights a single fireplace torch with a match from a small box. As the fire flames, she lights more torches and places them around the living room. She steps towards you. "Oh, my dear little one," she says. "I have made a mistake. There is a strange, new smell to everything here. I must go back to the farm. I must prepare for the day. I must leave."

She approaches the front door, and you are frozen in the act of filling your bowl with fruit. She reaches for the door handle and it swings open. A different smell welcomes her this time. It is of lemon balm, and it washes over you from the doorway. As she goes out and the door closes, it seems as though the door were closing on a different smell. When you enter the kitchen, a single flower blooms as you walk by it. The flower runs its five petals noiselessly across your arm, eating its way up your arm, wrapped around your neck. You follow the flower to the kitchen, where your bowl is growing hot, putting out a heat wave. The flower stops and reveals itself. It is a rosebud. It takes a small, deliberate bite of the fruit from your bowl. The fruit turns red as the petals are licked clean. The rose petals form themselves into a single heart on your bowl. You shudder, but keep the fruit.

Your mistress returns at midday, pushing you before her. Her eyes are not normal. They are the white of mold, and seem engorged with thick liquid. She speaks in a voice not her own, but more herself than any other sound she has ever made. "You must go to the woods. I must go back to the fields." Her task finished, she turns and leaves again.

You empty the remaining fruit from your breakfast into your bag. You take some bread and fruit for your lunch. You know you will be hungry by night. You exit through the front door without locking it. This is proper, as it has never been locked under your mistress' influence. As you pass the living room, you notice a change in the environment. The flowers are not behaving themselves. The rose is blooming a third time. You observe the rose as it consumes the last one of your apples. As it maintains its hold on the bowl, the flower doubles in size, taking over as a bowl. Slowly, you watch it grow from a small bowl to a large vase. When you finally notice it, allowing yourself to be drawn in by its cold, black nature, it is a large, beautiful vase shaped like a horse.

From the far reaches of the forest, you see something coming towards you. You can barely make out a shape moving under the canopy of the dying leaves. It is Ayla, and she is mad. She stops and speaks in her current voice. "You must leave. You cannot stay here." She begins to fade away as she speaks the last words, but you are able to make out her last word before she vanishes completely. "The house. The house is opening."

You begin to walk deeper into the forest, when you finally hear it. A strange sound, far away but drawn ever closer. The sound is a horse, the sound it makes when it is crying. You turn towards the sound and decide, much to your dismay, that you must investigate. You investigate, and discover that Ayla is correct: a house is being built exactly as she said it would. An old man works here, humming to himself as he shapes the wood. He is patient, and will not look up to interrupt his work. You approach him. "You need not be so careful," you say. He pauses and looks up from his work. "Who are you?" he asks. You are not sure you want to answer his question, but you do anyway. "I am Changeling," you reply. He smiles knowingly, and nods as he goes back to his work. You walk away, your eyes straight ahead.

Your feet are weary, and it is late in the day. As you walk, you look back towards the new house, and notice that it is already faring well. Already it stands at the brink of its completion.

A voice is heard behind you. "You have arrived, Changeling." It is a voice in the air. You feel yourself pulled backwards, and when you look down, you recognize the face from the first time you realized you were Changeling. It is your father, the same face you know but different. He is not just your father, but your father's father, and yours. You look upon the two of you, him young in his twenties, and you as a young girl. "You are a father," you say. He smiles, his face freezing in the same expression you knew from your childhood, one which you will never know again. "I am, and you are a father now," he says. He nods towards the new house. "Ayla will have to be other, but she will be joyful." Your father's hand extends to you. He stands you on your own feet while you gaze into the far woods.

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