Bonus: Where the Veil Grows Thin

It was one of those nights again.

Fires blazed high into the sky, wine flowed in endless streams, drums pounded, and laughter rolled loudly between the olive trees of the Thiasus.

Satyrs leapt over the flames, nymphs and dryads sang at the top of their lungs, while Dionysus sprawled half across his barrel, roaring with delight as someone repeated the same tune on the aulos flute for the fifteenth time.

Only one figure sat apart from the chaos: a young satyr, leaning back against a wine cask, arms folded behind her horns, yawning loudly as the fire flickered in her amber eyes.

“Here, sister, have another cup!” a passing maenad shrieked, shoving a goblet into her hand before spinning back into the wild dance.

“No thanks…” Melissa muttered, tossing it to the ground and letting the wine seep into the grass.

Festival. Trance. Madness. Ecstasy.

Nothing new, no surprises, no challenges. 

Only the endless cycle of noise and intoxication.

Her heart longed for something else, though she couldn’t say what.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” she murmured as she stood.

She left the frenzy behind, slipping through groves and over hidden paths until she reached the quieter edges of the realm.

No festival. No music.

Only the rustle of trees, the murmur of a stream, the crack of branches under her hooves.

She wandered deeper into the night, until she came to a dense forest, where the veil between her world and the world of mortals grew thin.

…and sometimes cracked open.

As she strolled along the edge of the woods, arms folded behind her back, hooves scuffing through the leaves, something flickered at the corner of her eye.

She stopped, tilted her head through the branches, and saw a glowing box flickering inside the open window of a small house.

And in front of it crouched a man, frowning, tapping furiously at some rattling board, growling in frustration:

“Why won’t this work?!”

Melissa frowned.

“A mortal?”

She watched him rise, fetch a cup of coffee, yawn, return, type, curse, until finally he let his head sink onto the table and drifted into sleep.

Melissa tilted her head. “…how funny.”

The veil thickened again, the border between worlds closing, and soon the house was gone.

But the following night she crept back, more deliberately this time, waiting in the brush for the mist to thin.

When at last she peered toward the house, it still lay in darkness.

“Hmm… sleeping already?”

Suddenly came a muffled sound, a rustle, a thud, and then a sharp, frightened chirp.

A bird had fallen from its nest above the roof, landing squarely on the windowsill below.

The light snapped on, footsteps clattered down a staircase, and the window opened.

Melissa craned her neck through the undergrowth for a better look.

His dark brown hair fell in loose strands to his shoulders, his gray-blue eyes wide as he regarded the trembling bird with bewilderment.

He carefully scooped it into his hands, carried it into the kitchen, laid it in a breadbasket, and sprinkled crumbs.

The bird squeaked indignantly and turned its head away.

Melissa smacked her forehead. 

“Wrong food, silly…”

Moments later she saw him step outside, dig in the soil, pull out a worm, and return triumphant.

Melissa grinned.

“Ha. Not bad.”

The veil closed once more, and the days slipped by.

But Melissa kept coming back. 

The next day, and the next, and the next.

In the end he nursed the bird until it was ready to fly, and when he set it free, it promptly left him a parting gift on his head.

Melissa stifled a laugh behind her hand, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and yet, something warm stirred in her chest as she saw him laugh anyway.

The more she watched, the stronger the feeling grew.

It was no longer just amusement, no longer just distraction.

It was… longing.

One evening a car pulled up, and a woman stepped out: pretty, long hair, a basket of pastries in her hands.

Melissa narrowed her eyes.

“For you, Lucius! May I call you Lucius? Welcome to the neighborhood!”

“Lucius…” Melissa whispered, testing the name.

“…It must get lonely, living out here all by yourself, doesn’t it?” the stranger cooed, leaning close, her hand brushing his arm.

Melissa pouted.

“Oh no, sweetheart. You won’t take him that easily.”

She snapped her fingers and a gust of wind tore through the veil, vines curling around the visitor’s ankles.

The woman stumbled and fell flat into the dirt, pastries scattering everywhere.

“Oops.” Melissa smirked.

Lucius blinked in confusion at the mess.

The woman stammered an apology, cheeks blazing, then scrambled back into her car and drove off in a hurry.

Melissa rolled in the grass with laughter.

“Oh, that was divine!”

But afterwards… a strange emptiness crept into her heart.

“Why was I so jealous?” 

She stared at her claws. 

“I barely know him.”

Then she shook her head.

“Nonsense! He’s just a mortal. Just entertainment. Nothing more.”

And still she returned. Again and again.

Until one night, he descended into the cellar with a flashlight.

“Hmm… what’s he up to? I can’t see from here…”

She hesitated first, but then, for the first time, she stepped through the veil.

On silent hooves she crept to the house, peering through a narrow side grate that gave her a view into the cellar.

He brushed dust from an old book, muttering to himself:

“…just missing the belladonna and the fly agaric, hmm…”

Before him lay a scrawled chalk circle, surrounded by scattered ingredients.

Melissa’s eyes widened, and she nearly burst into laughter.

“Well, well! A real wizard, who would have thought?”

But Lucius sighed, rubbing his neck.

“Ah, I’m such an idiot. This won’t work anyway.”

Melissa’s grin spread wide, as an idea sparked.

“Oh, you’re wrong, my dear. It will work. Just not the way you think.”

She darted back into the mist, while Lucius glanced up toward the grate, convinced he’d heard something.

But Melissa was already back in her world, rehearsing her grand entrance.

“So… how should I appear?”

She stood before a pond that served as a mirror and cleared her throat.

“Tremble, mortal, for I am your new mistress!” 

She grimaced. 

“Hm. Too grim.”

She struck a pose, pursed her lips, and said in a husky voice:

“Well, handsome… do you really want me as your servant?”

She broke into laughter instantly.

“Oh, that’s awful. All right, option three: chaotic!”

She leapt into the air, flailing her arms.

“Woohooo! Surprise! Here I am!”

She shook her head. 

“No, no, far too silly.”

Suddenly she fell quiet, staring at her own reflection.

Horns. Wild hair. Glowing eyes. A twitching tail.

For a fleeting moment, she grew pensive, almost sad.

And if he sees me like this? What if he’s afraid?

But then a crooked smile tugged at her lips.

“Oh, you know what, Lucius? I’ll just do everything at once. You’ll manage somehow.”

And so she waited.

Until the blood moon rose, its crimson light mingling with the evening sun.

Melissa crouched in the mist, her eyes gleaming.

“Well then, my little wizard…” Her heart pounded like war drums.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

                    Author's Note:

Okay, that’s it! For real this time ;) 

I hope you enjoyed this little 'Prequel Special' though! 

Thank you for reading and being part of Lucius’s and Melissa’s journey! 

A second volume will definitely follow, so stay tuned :)