The moment I saw her, practically glowing in the moonlight on the balcony, I fell completely, madly in love with her. That should have been my first clue that something wasn’t right, but young men in love have never been ones for caution I suppose.

She was just so beautiful – she was looking up at the moon as I came out, and it was shining above her, completely full. Behind her, the forested hills that once surrounded the palace have become a silvery wonderland in the moonlight, and a tiny waterfall visible in the stream – I forget what it was called, it has long since disappeared – caught the moon just right, and seemed to be shooting out diamonds or stars instead of spray. The brilliant moon, hanging just above the horizon, crowned the scene, and directly below the moon was her face – shining a little less brightly, perhaps, but even more beautiful. Her wavy dark brown hair and elegant black dress complemented her face like silver does a precious stone.

For a moment, she gazed intently at me, and I stared dumbstruck at her. After a long moment, she spoke.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The movements of her lips – small, subtle motions that seemed too elegant to be forming actual words – might have left me entranced and silent, had her voice not gotten my attention. It was high, but not shrill – musical, like a bell or perhaps a woodwind. Listening to her voice led to hearing her words, and after only a mildly long silence I managed to blurt out, “Yes, beautiful.”

She turned back to her moon and her landscape, but with a lingering glance over her shoulder that invited me to join her. We stood in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the cool spring air and admiring the scene before us – at least, I presume she was. I, on the other hand, was desperately racking my brain to think of something to say. Finally, at a loss, I turned to her and called up my most urbane voice to say, “Are you enjoying the party?”

She smiled gently. “I’m not one for parties. But I am enjoying the view.” She paused briefly, than she sighed happily. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

I considered the view. It was beautiful indeed, though somehow less so without her to complete it. But actually, I had seen something as beautiful. “The city. The city at night, lit up with a thousand lamps. The city spread out like the night sky before you.” I paused. She said nothing. “The city is the most beautiful thing in the world because…because we made it. It’s not just how it looks, it’s how it feels.” I looked out at the moon-drenched hills, searching for the words to explain how I had felt seeing my first city, looking down on it from an overlooking hill, seeing the twinkling lights like jewels, stretching on forever below me.” I felt her eyes on me now, and something welled up inside me. “Nature,” I said, “is so frightening. What’s out there is practically a garden: the real wilderness, the wild, is… terrible. Wild. Savage. Feral. I was born here in privilege, but my mother grew up in the Eastern Steppes, right on the edge of the Dark Forest. Men would go in and come out mad with fear, if they came out at all. Monsters and evil things moved in the shadows under the trees, some of them cold as the winters, killing without mercy, others hot with unnatural anger. I visited my grandfather once, my mother’s father, who still lives just outside the forest. The cold and the darkness were everywhere; under the trees, but also in the fields, in the yard, even in the house, no matter how high we stoked the fire. In the city, the winters are warm with good cheer even in winter, and the longest nights are bright with lamps and torches. We made it that way and we made it better.” Tbe words stopped coming – there was nothing more to say. I had not known, when I’d started, that there even was that much to say. Something about her, about the way she was looking at me, seemed to have summoned it all out, from wherever it had been hiding.

She was still gazing at me intently; when, after a moment, I turned to meet her eyes, I saw she was smiling. “You’re him. The lord of the house. You’re Henry Villaux.”

Her smile, though small, was – not dazzling, quite - awful. For the first time in my life, I was awed. Her voice was so brilliant and intensely melodic that it seemed a beautiful woman in itself, one demanding at least as much attention as she herself. I couldn’t even nod. She moved toward me slowly until her face was inches from mine, and her body, cool and soft, pressed into me.

“I was sent to find you, Henry Villaux,” she said, and I watched her mouth hungrily. “You’re going to be important,” she continued, and I studied her nose her ears, her cheeks, her hair, all of it perfect – sublime in a way words could never capture. “You’re going to be so important that I’ve come for you,” she finished, and I looked into her eyes.

And I screamed.

I saw the darkness. I saw the cold. I saw the madness, the rage, the hate, the fear, the arrogance. I saw tricks of light, and manipulations of emotion. I saw what she was.

She had come from the Dark Forest.

She still could have killed me. I was as paralyzed with fear as I had been with adoration. She was surprised, however. She searched my face to see what had gone wrong, and then as her smile turned into a grin – fearsome, but still unbearable beautiful; “Too late, Henry Villaux, City Father. I’ve already got you.” But her confusion, and her threat, saved me my life; just then, two guards with torches and cold steel blades charged onto the balcony, investigating my scream. She released me, shooting a final glance my way as she did, beautiful even with fear and frustration twisting her expression. With no other hesitation, she dived gracefully off the balcony. A fierce wind rose out of nowhere; one of the torches held by the extremely confused guards blew out, and she was gone.

I mean gone, not dead. Her body wasn’t below the balcony. It wasn’t anywhere on the grounds, or in the manor. She escaped. I never saw her again, but I have seen others of her kind. They were all beautiful. I instantly loved all of them. They all had unnatural horrific eyes, if you looked long enough. And they were all deathly afraid of fire and steel. Finally, all of them have wanted to kill me, and they’ve all called me City Father, a title I never understood - until recently, that is.

To answer your question, that is why the outer wall needs steel reinforcement. We’re far too close to the Forest to leave things to chance. Don’t believe me? You’re on tomorrow’s lumber detail. You’ll see.

Just be careful, and don’t wander too far away from the guards. Not everyone always comes back.

back to the highway that never ends