Black ink bled over purple onto the dusty white page. Etched detail faded in and out of watery splotches to portray the scene. The quickthorn tree stood in full bloom to one side. Mountains and forest blurred behind the tree, mostly set in the purple of the blooms. What took my breath away was the man under the tree.

My hair sat on the figure’s head. The village clothes I wore clung to the same frame. Blood the color of the petals dripped from my sword, held in an inked hand.

I had found the painting and others near the bed that Glyn slept in. The púca had almost tricked me. Moments ago I had held the cure in one hand, and my sword in the other.

Glyn couldn’t be an aes sídhe. He helped so many and asked for nothing in return. He pressed his hand against my amulet when treating my arm. I felt no curses lurking in the walls of his hut. The evidence was all in front of me. This healer was not evil, so he couldn’t be a fairy.

The fever broke an hour before, and his breathing returned to normal. I breathed a prayer of thanks that the herbs had worked. I would find that rabbit soon and end his cruel tricks once and for all.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I might start getting the wrong idea.” My vision refocused to see a mischievous smile. I did my best to ignore his comment and fetched some water for him to drink.

“You’re not even strong enough to sit up on your own yet,” I said, helping him up to drink. “How do you have the strength to torment me with your jokes?”

“It’s easy,” he chuckled. “Besides, laughter is the best medicine.” His face lost its smile as he paused. “How did you manage to make my medicine?”

“A rogue púca sat safely outside your window and told me how. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t take your soul as payment.” I assured him.

“And did this púca tell you what the potion was?”

“The lying pest told me it was a remedy for aes sídhe.” I turned my gaze away in shame as I continued. “I regret there was a moment I almost believed him. I almost turned my sword on you.” I whispered.

“I see.” His two word response left me even deeper in guilt. He looked so disappointed. I had threatened worse to people I knew more and not felt like this. Probably because I owed this man a great debt for saving my life, three times now.

“I…” he trailed off. “Under the table is my medical journal. Open to the first page.”

The binding was old. The journal must have been a hundred years old, passed down for a few generations. The first page opened up to an herbal recipe. The title read as a basic remedy to treat fairies who had depleted their life force. Realization paled my face as I read the ingredients to the brew. It was the same as what I had made at the rabbit’s instruction.

The book fell from my hands. Pandemonium erupted inside. Years of hatred and spite clashed against the evidence I had believed moments ago. The man lying before me was one of the aes sídhe. By oath I was the instrument of the goddesses to slay the minions of evil. I was jury, judge, and executioner.

My sword left its sheath. Tears streamed silently down the healer’s face as he looked into my eyes. He made no move to resist, but his gaze never left mine. Salty liquid blurred my vision, and my hands trembled.

“Mr. Glyn!” A voice called. Fists banged on the wooden door. “Mr. Glyn, please open up. It’s Bevin. Please be home. The Widow Byrne is real sick.”

I froze. The desperation in the boy’s voice joined the discord inside. Whatever was wrong, it was serious. The fairy at my feet could be the only way to save her. But the aes sídhe didn’t save people.

“If humans and gods alike can be both good and evil, why not the fairies? Would it not be possible for the aes sídhe to stray from their paths?”

The lady’s words mixed with images of a girl crying in fear before she was burned.

“I will never be blinded by hate or greed and will adhere to the cardinal virtues.”

The words of my oath mixed with the faces of the people he saved, and the image of his hand over my amulet.

“Please, let me save one more before I die,” Glyn whispered.

His quiet plea to do good mixed with memories of a warm hand clinging to mine, and the relief I felt when I saw his mischievous smile.

My sword slid back to its place at my side. I opened the banging door and Bevin rushed inside. “Oh, sir knight. I didn’t know you were here. Where is Glyn?”

“I’m over here. Tell me what happened.”

“We don’t know. She was fine this morning. She went shopping for some vegetables in the market and collapsed. Her skin is ice and it’s turning grey. Her hair is turning white, and she hasn’t moved since she was brought home.”

“Abhartach,” I whispered. One of the darkest kind of aes sídhe in recorded history. Wielders of blood magic, three dukes of the fae realm turned themselves into creatures of undeath. The Abhartach needed to drink blood to fuel their magic and sustain themselves.

When the war broke out between the gods, the three dukes used their magic to raise those they had feasted on. Their army of ghouls marched against the living. Two of the dukes were slain during the war. Only Duke Morfran escaped, and was never heard from again.

A nod from the bedridden aes sídhe confirmed my fears, and I bolted out the door. I didn’t know what I thought of Glyn, but I knew I had to reach the town before nightfall.