Ivory and Glass

Holly seldom cried; her tears were crushed glass.

Tiny shards would skitter down her cheeks, tinkling to the ground. She imagined they relished slicing heels and collecting howls of pain. Holly hated their constant irritation; worse, she hated the fear they inspired in others.

Though her eyes were unnaturally sharp, her heart was too soft. It had taken one kiss and a tear of joy to end her dreams of true love. She was the girl who left jagged scars, if not careful.

Holly crouched in the grass, shuffling under the windows of the crumbling halfway house, the only home she'd ever known. She'd nearly passed the iron gate when a familiar voice boomed, “Stop right there.”

Holly gulped, eyeing the nearby path. The Madam strode toward her with fiery intent—there was no chance of escaping now.

“I heard ye leaving," she said, her lips pitched in stern rebuke.

"Yes, Madam.” Holly fidgeted with her woollen dress.

“Without a goodbye? I thought ye were better than that.”

Holly hung her head, scuffing the dirt with her shoe, cheeks hot with shame.

The Madam towered over her. “And where are ye off to?”

Holly shook her head; she dared not utter the cursed name aloud.

“Ah, look! A miracle.” She pinched Holly’s chin between her fingers. “You finally shut yer trap.”

Holly tugged free, rubbing away the hurt. A thousand retorts sat ready on her tongue. She was a woman now, undeserving of such scoldings.

“Madam, as I am sixteen, I am ready to make my way in the world.”

“Don’t take me for a fool, lass. I know yer off to the forbidden forest,” she cut in, rapping a knuckle against Holly’s head. “Had yer heart broken by the Betherton Boy. Now all yer sense is gone,” she tutted, “ye’re going to those heathens in the forest?”

Holly’s mouth hung open. “How did you know?”

The Madam showed her teeth, but no smile. “You’re not the first fool to go searching for a magic cure. Many have wandered that path…,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “but you’re the first who could make it back.”

That was the closest she’d ever gotten to a compliment.

“You’re not stopping me?”

The Madam leaned in, wiping a calloused thumb over Holly's scarred brow.

“No, lass, you’re a woman now. You make your own way; just don’t lose yourself in that forest. You hear?”

Holly nodded, her loose braid unravelling.

“Yes, Madam.”

She wondered if the Madam would object to a hug—her eyes itched and stung in warning. Instead, she curtsied, swung her bag over her shoulder, and left.

“Lass.” The Madam waved a book. “This arrived, addressed to ye.”

Holly ran through the silver sea of mist.

The title had faded with age, but inside, the fairy tales and forgotten myths remained vibrant, untouched by time.

“Thank you." Holly grinned, leaving before a tear could form.

Her sure-footed steps echoed throughout the abandoned field. The stone path, though hidden by head-high grass, remained untouched by the weather. Even weeds dared not sprout between the ashlar joints.

A cool breeze stretched from the forest, like hands, it wrapped around Holly’s rigid form—then pulled.

“No. No. No.” Her heart rattled against its ribcage.

She strained against its pull; the scent of floral earth flooded her nose and mouth. It tugged with such force; she had no choice but to yield. One step, then another. Otherwise, she would topple, the forest dragging her into the dark green abyss—on her back.

The Forbidden loomed, stark against the dry plains that blanketed the town's edge. Forest trees stood tall and lush with pillowy leaves. Delicate blue and red roses bloomed across the shrubs, their velvet petals carpeting the ground.

Its beauty did not deceive Holly; she had learned as a child to look down, not up. Branches, blackened with soot, had edges sharp like daggers. Flowers hid thorns and teeth; everything grew twisted and unnatural, just like her.

The forest breeze curled inside her ears, whispering a tune of death and fate. Leaves and twigs batted against her face, ushering her toward the opening of the Forbidden—that swallowed her whole.

The winds vanished. Holly stumbled, dizzy and unable to see through a curtain of wild hair.

She tucked it back, brushing off petals and mud stuck to her bronzed skin. She turned in a slow circle, taking in the sight: animal carcasses and human belongings strewn across branches like macabre décor. Still, the Forbidden didn't scare her—failing did.

A sharp tear welled at the corner of her eye. If she understood the language of tears, she imagined it would beg for freedom.

What harm could one drop do in such a cursed place? The tear scratched down her cheek and clinked onto the stone path, disappearing.

Focusing on one steady foot in front of the other, her lips trembled with memories. She had faltered from the path before and still bore the scar.

Giggling sliced through her thoughts. Holly jolted.

Glowing yellow eyes, unblinking, peered from the darkness. More pairs than she could count, all watching her. A choir of shrill cackles rippled through the forest. The sound wasn’t happy; it was hungry.

She ran, everything a blur, a boot flipping into the air, nearing the bend, she glanced back—numbness tingled through her body.

A rat-like creature stood hunched and cloaked. Its mouth opened wide, revealing jagged black teeth. A giggle of pure rage ripped from its throat, yellow eyes boring into hers. Holly swallowed a whimper, balling her fist and raising them.

No dagger. One shoe. But she would fight until her last tear fell.

“Be gone,” a commanding voice whipped through the chorus, silencing the giggles.

An old man stood in her way, his bare feet planted wide. Wearing the forest for clothing, he looked a little lost, and a little found.

“You’re safe.” The aged gravel in his voice crackled like fire on a cold night.

Who was this man the Forbidden obeyed?

“Thank you,” she managed between breaths. The man stepped forward, offering her shoe.

“Oh, thank you.” Holly hopped, easing her foot into the slipper.

“I’m one for manners. But do you know other words?” His mouth curved in crooked amusement.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never seen those things before. I ran, then my shoe…” She trailed off as he rolled his eyes and walked away.

What had she done?

“Sir?” She hurried after him. “Please tell me who—”

“I liked it better when you spoke two words,” he cut in.

Holly reeled. “Oh.” What was she to say to that?

He paused. “I know why you’re here, Holly. You speak louder with your eyes than your lips.”

“You know my name?”

The wild man sighed, shoulders sagging. “I wagered you’d be different; your fire was most vibrant. Alas, you insist on fixing what isn’t broken.”

Holly faltered, opening and closing her mouth. Madam would be miffed at her silence—a miracle she’d call it.

“Sorry.” The word popped out.

His shoulders sprang up. “What do you seek from them?” he asked, leaves rustling as he spun to face her.

She shrugged one shoulder. “True love, the kind in books.”

His head tilted in thought, eyes focused elsewhere.

“Like in that book, you say?” He pointed to the pack on her shoulders.

A million retorts rushed to her tongue, but the truth slipped out, “Yes.”

The man’s watery blue gaze held sadness.“There is hope for you yet.” With that, he leapt off the path.“Love is much like glass, don’t you think?” his echo carried from the darkness.

Holly pondered the strange old man. ‘There is hope left.’ She held those words against her chest; there is always hope.

The path narrowed as she continued; stones grew sparse, giving way to dirt and grass. Still, the way was clear. The forest bent around it, filtering out the remaining light, leaving only the dark—not the dark of the night; this was cold and cursed.

Ahead, an owl hooted. Holly tripped, catching herself; the damp earth soaked straight through her dress. She jumped up, searching the trees, clouds puffing from her mouth in the frigid air.

The second hoot chipped her resolve. On instinct, Holly touched her puckered scar. She'd been five when feathers had brushed against her skin, ivory talons slicing through her brow. The giant owl had marked her skin and cursed her eyes.

Branches above rustled. Then, bursting forth as radiant light, the giant owl swooped. Holly should run or fight, but she could only cry. Glass pelted to the ground as she braced. There was no outrunning this owl. At the last second, it pulled up, vanishing into the mist with a final hoot.

Holly rubbed the ridge of the scar; a creeping feeling settled in her gut—she was missing a piece she ought to hold.

“Well, that was... interesting.” A musical voice fluttered, stealing away her fear and breath. A man emerged from the shadows. A beautiful man. He bent, scooping a handful of tears. “And so are these.” His smile was so angelic, Holly imagined even the Madam might swoon.

“Sister, come meet this sweet thing,” he said to the quiet darkness.

She had found them.

The cursed twins.

A tall, willowy woman slithered out from the shadows, draped in flowing white. She did not smile—she had no mouth.

Holly stepped back, a branch snapping underfoot.

“Deary, you can’t leave yet,” the male crooned. “You haven’t told us your wish.” He sauntered over, his green gaze unmoving from her own. Holly crossed her arms and turned from his stare. The woman glided over, carried on air like a ghost.

“I can sssmel her fear,” hissed a voice. Holly squinted. Something glinted in the woman’s hair—scales. A silver snake slithered out and coiled around the woman’s neck, its red tongue flicking.

“I am not scared. I have come for my wish.” Holly sounded surer than she felt.

The man leaned into his sister and whispered, “She is cursed.” He withdrew a handful of glass from his pocket, rubbing it between his fingers. Holly’s breath hitched. Sickness burned in her throat as she watched him cast her tears onto the dirt—her pain discarded at his feet.

“Interesssting.” The woman’s eyes widened at the glass. Holly imagined a wicked sneer where her mouth should be.

“Dear Holly, with locks of honey, who went a-searching for a cursing,” he sang, a strange gleam in his eyes.

Why did everything in this forest look so hungry?

“Glasss tears are not ssso bad. Why do you wissh to be free?” asked the snake.

Holly stood straighter, unwrapping her arms, fear dimming as her wish slipped through her fingers.

The truth hummed in her mouth: She just wanted to be loved. But, before the cursed twins, her reason seemed childish, the whim of a silly girl who read too many books.

“Ahhh,” the man gasped, clutching his chest. “She’s heartbroken. Dear sister, we simply must help her.”

Without warning, he cupped her face with his warm hands, his green eyes searching hers. He trailed his fingers along her cheeks, moving higher, pausing at the scar.

Holly shook, unable to look away from the cursed man’s hypnotic gaze; she was prey.

“I will grant your wish, Holly, with locks of honey,” he said, tugging hard on a curl.

“No,” the snake snapped, “your wisssh, iss mine.”

The woman drew closer, halting, when a growl thundered through the forest. Holly froze, as the man’s lips pulled back, his eyes turning obsidian black.

Hissing and growling shook the trees; Holly was stuck between two powerful curses.

“Please,” she begged, trying to break free, but his grip tightened, drawing a cry.

The woman raised her pale arm, summoning Holly. “We will take your curssse—come child.”

“Sister,” he laughed, “what will you take as payment?”

“Her eyess,” the snake whispered, “sshe won’t feel a thing.”

Holly stiffened. Give up her eyes? That couldn’t be the answer. She would be free of the glass for the price of blindness.

A warm breath caressed her neck. “I will leave your eyes; they are far too sweet to take. But your heart—I will have. You will stay with me, Holly. I will love you tears and all.”

The woman pointed at her brother and stormed over. The snake around her neck coiled, ready to strike. He clicked his fingers, so loud the snake wavered and flopped.

“He returns," the man sneered, scanning the tree line. "Save your tantrum for later.”

In one quick motion, he swung Holly around until they were chest to chest. Pain lanced up her arm.

“Make a choice,” he demanded.

“Eyes.” He nodded at his sister. “Or heart.” He gestured to himself.

What? Just like that, she was supposed to choose? Stuck here forever or blind?

She looked into his perfect face; she was no one’s fool; he was more creature than man. But he would love her, keep her warm. Wasn’t that what Holly wanted most? To find love?

He shook her shoulder, fangs bared. “Hurry.”

She needed time. Everything was happening too fast.

He looked between Holly and his sister. “It’s either her or me. Trust me, kitten—choose her, and you'll regret it.”

A shriek tore through the trees. The owl had returned.

It was too much: The owl, the fangs, stolen eyes and hearts… She was just a girl, only sixteen, who wanted to kiss a boy and fall in love.

Light speared through the leaves, followed by the beating of giant wings. The man yanked her forward; she threw her weight back, digging her heels into the ground. He could easily drag her away, but large ivory talons slashed at the cursed man. Holly swore its golden eye winked at her.

Releasing his hold, he looped his fingers to form a spell. His twin mirrored his movements; their eyes glazed and black.

Holly bolted, ignoring the shouts, hisses, and hooting behind her. She longed for hard stone under her feet. Tears fell uncontrolled, glass crunching underfoot.

She ran to the frantic thumping of a breaking heart—faster, faster—round the bend, tripping as a chorus of shrill crackles erupted. Yellow eyes tracked her movement from the bushes.

But Holly didn’t stop. Not even when the hairs on her arms pricked, and the pounding of rat feet chased behind. Almost there. A few more steps.

Then came silence.

The last glass tear clinked against the stone.

Holly gasped and jumped back, her bag falling to the ground. Before her eyes, the tiny shard grew. A sharp grating ripped through the quiet—the sound coming from everywhere all at once.

She turned. Glass tears the size of horses jutted from the ground. Some were coated with blood, piercing through lifeless rat bodies.

Her tears had saved her?

For a moment, the Forbidden appeared tamed. Nothing cawed or clawed.

Everything was still.

Holly reached for the open book that had tumbled out of her bag, her spine tingling—an owl. Her owl. The world faded away as she ran her trembling hand over the forgotten myth.

“Old man Fate, called to distress, with ivory talons gifts a-bless. His eyes can pierce a soul asunder, searching for the pure of heart; he marks them proud, his works of art. Their tears he seeds, their eyes he makes, a gift of glass to heal or save,” she mumbled aloud.

A gift?

Holly had missed out on such a thing. She re-read, her finger tracing over every word. Hope reawakened; She had been lost, curled in a tight ball, when the owl had come—just like the tale said.

The old man’s words stabbed through her chest: “Love is much like glass."

Holly pondered the saying, running her tongue along her teeth. She'd never thought her tears were anything but a curse. But love could hurt and heal…could glass?

She huffed and threw her hands in the air. She was bone tired and filthy dirty. All she wanted was home. There'd be time to figure out the strange happenings later.

Holly stepped out of the Forbidden—this time, with a small but sure smile.

Her only thought: Boy, do I have a story to tell, Madam.