I would like to clarify one thing before I tell this tale: I love my grandmother. She raised my brother and I for as long as I can remember and she has done nothing but care for us. She’s dealt with the dangers of this land for decades. She knows the rules and taught them to us. I trust her more than anything in the world.

I trust her when she tells us not to walk through a circle of mushrooms or a ring of flowers and I trust her when she tells us to leave the forest before dusk. I trust her when she says to ignore any chiming bells or musical voices begging us to visit them near the old oak tree. I especially trust her when she makes us wear iron rings while walking through the forest. These are the rules of avoiding the fae. I trust grandmother.

My brother doesn’t believe her as much as I do. He has a tendency to take off his iron rings if he gets uncomfortable and tromp through the fairy rings without a care in the world. He ignores the warnings our grandmother gives us. She says he’ll be replaced by a changeling, a creature who would wear his skin to harm those he loves. He laughs, still refusing to believe her. 

I keep my rings on every time I leave our home. I walk around the fairy rings with plenty of space to show reverence. I am often rewarded for my respect. I’ll awaken with fresh and exotic fruit on my windowsill, or a deer will walk alongside me, gently nudging me towards the wood. I am careful to ignore these gifts. Any gift I accept means I am indebted to the fae. 

My brother does not mind being indebted, I suppose. He has eaten their fruit and followed the deer despite my warnings. He has done this many times before, claiming nothing will happen. Today is different. It is dark now and he has not returned. If he is not back before grandmother and I go to bed, I fear it will not be him who returns. 

……

My brother is gone. I have no doubt of it. The creature who takes his form speaks oddly and in ways my brother would not. He asks me to accompany him in the wood, to follow him and his deer, to eat the fruit he brings back. I do not trust him. I trust my grandmother. 

My grandmother does not acknowledge the change. She tells me this would be rude and enrage the changeling. She acts as though everything is as it should be, but she is not ignorant. She warns me not to insult him, to not accept any gifts from him, to not lie to him, and to not offer him anything. She tells me to follow these rules when interacting with the creature who is wearing my brother’s skin. These are the rules of interacting with the fae.

I follow these words to the letter. I follow these words as if they are law. My grandmother does not offer him food. She simply leaves the food out and he serves himself. If she refused him food, she would insult a fairy. If she offered him food, she would be submitting to a fairy and implying he owns her. She does not accept any offers from the changeling. She has everything she currently needs, she says. Dealing with fairies is a tightrope walk, but the alternative is much worse. 

This changeling is clever. Every so often, he’ll say something that reminds me perfectly of my brother. Every so often, he’ll make a face that feels entirely natural. He’s still not perfect. He glowers when my grandmother’s back is turned. He avoids touching her iron rings. He leaves for the wood for great lengths of time. Despite his horror and awful intentions, I need him. He knows where my brother is.

I think I have to follow him. 

……

I try after supper one night. He eats, then makes an excuse for why he must leave the cottage at such a late hour. I mention I would like a walk. I do not offer my company, but imply I would be heading out with him. He grins manically and leaves my grandmother’s home. I start to leave too. My grandmother scowls and halts the idea in its tracks. She loudly claims I have work -- loud enough for the changeling to hear -- and that I cannot go out tonight. I do not argue. 

I try again several dusks later. He claims he forgot something out in the woods and is going to get it. I say I should collect herbs for cooking. I do not make it far before my grandmother calls me back inside and chastises me for not doing it earlier. She knows as well as I do that we are plentiful with ingredients, but does not wish to contradict me within earshot of the creature.

I try again another evening, when the sky is lighter. Instead of accompanying the changeling, I tell grandmother I am going on a stroll. The changeling offers his company. I do not accept nor decline, out of fear of being indebted to him or offending him. I simply leave the cottage before supper, when the sky is still light. He follows. 

He urges us towards the wood. I comment on a flower I saw in that direction, turning towards it. He grins a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth that do not belong to my brother. We walk further into the forest. I do not stop when the sky grows dark. 

After a long time, I begin to grow to grow anxious. It is very late. Suddenly he stops and smiles his mouth of razors once more. 

“We are here. If you wish to see where your brother has gone, you must remove your iron rings. It disgusts us.” The creature has dropped all pretenses of being my brother. He knows that I am here to find where my real sibling has been kept. I comply with his request, slipping the rings off of my fingers and letting them fall to the forest floor.

He grips my arm painfully tightly and pulls me into a small clearing. It’s beautiful. Even though the sky is nearly pitch black at the late hour, the clearing in the forest is brightly lit with luminescent mushrooms and fireflies. 

The second I cross into the clearing, I feel disoriented. Instantly, my limbs feel heavy and sluggish. I try to ask why I feel this way, but my words are slurred and indecipherable. I am a prisoner in my own body. 

Slowly, I turn my head to peer around the clearing. The sight of the fae dancing and whooping in glee greets my eyes. In the center of the chaos and noise is a green figure, standing next to the old oak tree. I have never been near it past dusk, so it was almost unrecognizable. The trunk is a vibrant shade of violet, and its branches are covered in pink glowing fruit. I am not sure why, but I know that The Green Lady is the reason I have travelled this far. 

My steps towards her are deliberate and forced. The fae find amusement in my effort. The closer I get towards the green woman, the harder it is for me to keep my pace. She patiently waits for me.

As I make my way towards her, she pulls down one of the fruits from a branch. She breaks it open and a harsh pink light spills out onto the forest floor, forming the shape of a boy. When I reach her, my brother has reformed from the light. When he is able, he coughs violently gulps in the air as though he were drowning. The Green Lady speaks.

“This boy belongs to me. He has eaten my fruit, has followed my animals, and has disrespected my fae rings.” 

She smiles down at me apologetically. It is getting difficult for me to stand upright. My knees quiver for a moment before they give in completely. I collapse onto my hands and knees in the softly illuminated grass. My head begins to throb in pain and nausea. I feel a hand on my head. The Green Lady combs her fingers through my hair and softly croons, “I am appreciative of your actions and of the respect you give us. You do not enter our forest uninvited, you do not desecrate our holy grounds with your dirty boots, you are kind.”

Her hand slips down my cheekbone to the underside of my jaw, where she gently pulls my chin upwards until my eyes meet hers. They have no color. Her eyes are pure white, but soft. My tongue is too heavy to respond, so I nod as best I can. I can barely form cohesive thoughts anymore. Something about this clearing is intoxicating. 

I hear a shallow gasping to my side and lethargically pull my head to face my brother. His eyes are foggy and hold no recognition when they reach my face. He is in the barest threads of clothes, sewn flowers and vines bind his chest, a veil of leaves around his hips. His eyes are the same white as the Green Lady’s.

“As I said, he belongs to us now. He has no need to remember anything else. Oh, how I wish you had forgotten about him. Then I would be able to spare you. You chose to come here, however. You chose to be mine.” 

I feel my eyebrows furrow as I struggle to decrypt her speech. There is a rustling behind me and voices that sound like wind chimes before I feel their soft hands pull me up and carry me towards a stream. When I am laid in the stream, I see that the hands belonged to two nymphs with hair that flows down their backs like the water flows down the creek. They shush me when I try to speak, and I am too tired to argue. My eyes shut as I feel the water wash away my concerns and worries. 

It is not long before I forget why I came. Shortly after that, I forget my brother, and then my grandmother. Gradually, I am deconstructed and freed. I forget all the rules for avoiding fairies and interacting with fairies. I forget myself. 

All I remember is the Green Lady’s musical voice and her soft white eyes. 

I am not me anymore. 

I am one of the fae.