Finion sat in the back seat of the car, feeling trapped and uncomfortable in more ways than one. She was far taller than most people and so had to keep her knees tucked up close to her chest while at the same time crouching down to keep her head from bumping the roof of the car. Outside, she watched the sloping grasslands gradually shift into woods and her longing to be out there, walking free, intensified. Even if she could just roll the window down and feel the wind in her hair, she’d be marginally happier. As it was, she kept her long hair pinned up and left the window closed. It had been years since she’d let her hair down. It wasn’t safe for her to do otherwise.

“I think you’re really going to like this one,” Shen said from the driver’s seat.

“Oh good,” Finion carefully replied without emotion.

Shen was her realtor. It had taken Finion much longer than she had liked to save up enough money to buy a place of her own. She’d spent the last few days being driven around by Shen, looking at one property after another. Shen seemed to view it as a fun and exciting challenge to find the right place for Finion. It wasn’t that Finion hadn’t liked those other places, many of them were quite beautiful, but she had long since decided what piece of property she wanted. Of course, she couldn’t tell Shen that. It was already dangerous enough for her.

Shen continued to speak when she drove, listing off various facts about the property they were about to go see.

“It’s probably one of the oldest properties on the market right now,” she was saying. “I know for some properties that can be a red flag but this one is different. Those who built it sure knew what they were doing. There’s exquisite, hand carved woodworking throughout. There’s even several, living trees that were grown in such a way that they meld into the structure. I don’t know how they did it, of course. It’s an art lost to time I suppose.”

Finion said nothing. She didn’t trust herself to speak much right now. She had to maintain her aura of disinterest, of not knowing where they were going, of ignorance.

“It has running water, of course,” Shen continued. “I’m not sure if it’s the original plumbing or not but the water’s been tested so no worries there. And just wait until you see the windows! There’s so much natural light in this place you’re going to be amazed.”

Finion just nodded.

“Hey, you okay back there?” Shen asked. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Sorry, just a bit tired,” Finion lied. “That’s all.”

“I know how that is,” Shen commiserated. “Long night working?”

Finion had avoided discussing work with Shen but that didn’t stop her from trying every once in a while to bring up the subject.

“Just wanting to be done house hunting,” Finion said.

“See that’s where we’re different,” Shen said. “I love doing this, even when I was looking for my own place. It’s like a treasure hunt, you know? The thrill of discovery!”

“Yeah,” Finion agreed and left it at that.

Outside her window, the trees began to look more and more familiar to her. She perked up when she recognized the spot where she and her siblings use to go and dance. Back then it had been a wide clearing but now it was overgrown with shrubs. A few trees were even there now, tall enough to be considered mature trees by most standards. It had been so long she’d last been back here.

Memories of those midsummer dances filled her mind. The scents of smoke, sweat, and wine seemed to fill the car and she breathed in deeply. There was even a hint of music playing, as if coming from a long way off. She couldn’t help but hum along a little, remembering the old music that would never again be played.

“What’s that?” Shen asked. “Did you say something?”

“Oh, no, sorry,” Finion said abruptly. “I was just…just trying to remember a song I heard a while ago.”

“Oh I hate that when I get a bit of a song stuck in my head but can’t remember how it goes.”

“Yeah, it’s the worst,” Finion agreed.

“Do you know the name of it?” Shen asked. “Maybe we can look it up and listen to it.”

“No, that’s okay,” Finion replied. “It’s not that sort of song.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was just something me and my siblings made up when we were younger.”

Shen perked up. “I didn’t know you had siblings! Do any of them live nearby?”

“They, uh…no, they,” Finion stammered as they passed several rolling mounds of earth, overgrown and wild but still distinguishable from the usual terrain. “They passed on…years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Shen replied more solemnly. “Do you have any other family nearby?”

“No.”

Finion’s voice was little more than a whisper and she wasn’t sure whether Shen had heard her or not. Either way, Shen didn’t prod at that subject anymore.

Outside, the old trees continued to grow more and more familiar. She remembered naming many of them when they were only saplings and she wondered if those trees had given names to the younger ones or if they were even still awake. It had been so long, she wouldn’t be surprised if the entire forest was asleep. She hoped she would find at least a few trees still awake. She wouldn’t be able to awaken any on her own and the idea of being surrounded by so many old friends but unable to speak with them haunted her thoughts.

“We’re here,” Shen announced and the car came to a stop.

Finion carefully let herself out of the car. It was better now that so few vehicles used metals in their interior finishes but she still had to be careful not to accidentally touch any hidden screw heads or the like.

This deep into the woods, the sunlight was heavily filtered through dense layers of leaves and the air was familiar and musty. She could smell the spores from all the fungi and could taste the pollen. Before her, stood the two oldest trees in the forest. They flanked the main doorway that led into the ancient and beautiful home. Their trunks melded smoothly into the worked stone walls and their canopies vanished upward into the vaulted roof. The old copper lamp still hung above the door, though it was unlit. The windows above the door even looked to still hold their original panes of stained glass, woven together by a lattice of stone made to look like vines.

“It’s…” Finion tried to find the words while so many memories and emotions welled up inside her and failed. Instead, she allowed a few tears to escape her eyes.

“I know,” Shen said, stepping up beside her. “They don’t make them like they used to.”

“They don’t make anything anymore,” Finion said without meaning to. “They’re all gone.”

Shen gave her a puzzled look and Finion had to suppress a groan.

“Can we go inside?” Finion asked to hopefully distract Shen.

“Of course!” Shen said with her usual excitement.

To Finion’s horror, Shen withdrew a set of keys, walked over to the door, and inserted one of the keys into a lock Finion hadn’t yet noticed. What was worse, now that she noticed the lock, she noticed the dozens of iron studs set into the wooden door. She stood there, petrified as she noticed the electrical wire running to the lamp. As she studied it, she realized it no longer held oil and a wick, but a glass bulb instead.

“How…what did they do?” She asked in shock.

“What?” Shen asked.

“The door, and the lock, and the…the electricity!”

“Oh, right! They modernized the house a couple years ago to bring it up to date. It’s a beautiful home but really lacked that modern feel without electricity. And the new locks are the best currently on the market.”

At this, Shen pushed open the door, stepped inside, and flicked on the lights. Inside Finion saw new tile flooring where once the finest moss had been. There were light switches and electrical outlets, light bulbs where lamps and fairy lights used to hang, and further in she saw stainless steel countertops and appliance in the kitchen.

She couldn’t have gone inside if she’d wanted to. She was surprised she couldn’t feel herself being repulsed by so much iron and steel but knew she couldn’t approach any further. It was too much. How could this have happened? How could anyone have thought that this was an improvement? The hand-wrought nature of the home, the smooth and welcoming textures, everything carefully and painstakingly replaced with cold and unliving substitutes. Her father’s furniture she had expected to be gone, but not her mother’s mossy floors, not her brother’s wooden counters, not her sister’s fine copper and silver lamps. Where was the bark of the trees who’d been taught to grow along the walls? How had they removed the grape vines from the ceiling?

“Shall we go in?” Shen asked uncertainly when she noticed Finion’s reluctance.

“No,” she sighed. There was so much she wanted to say, to scream, but what would be the use of it? Shen wasn’t the one who’d done this, and she had no power to undo it. No one did. “I’ve seen enough. This isn’t the one.”

Without waiting for Shen, Finion returned to the car and climbed back into the back seat. That was it then, her last hope of regaining her family’s home, gone. Even if she bought it, paid for people to remove all of the bits that weren’t supposed to be there, she could never replace what had been there originally. It would never be her home as she had known it.

Shen was still standing in the open doorway of the home, mouth agape and hands on her hips. Finion wished she could have handled this better. She knew Shen was doing her best, and that her actions must be both perplexing and upsetting, but what else could she do? The fae courts had been overthrown and those who had survived the war had been slowly hunted down and branded with iron until they withered away. Finion was, as far as she could tell, the last one. She had survived by concealing her true nature through non-magical means. She gave up her glamour in exchange for mundane clothes and adopting the styles of the day. She worked a job, paid her bills, and never worked her magic.

Over the centuries she’d had to move on regularly to avoid people noticing her undying nature, always with the hope of returning to this place and living in peace, alone, as best she could. The wild woods were still somewhat untamed at least and few people ventured out this way. But no, it was not to be.

When Shen returned to the car she was at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry for wasting so much of your time,” Finion apologized. “I…I just don’t like the modern look. I was hoping the inside would match the outside.”

Shen had a strange look on her face as she turned back towards her.

“You wanted it to be how you remembered it?” Shen asked.

“Yes,” Finion replied before she could catch herself.

Her eyes met Shen’s, terror at being exposed, at being captured and having iron burned into her. Yet Shen did not seem angry or vengeful. Instead, she looked almost relieved.

“Me too,” she said, and Finion became aware for the first time of the faint glamour around Shen.

“What?” Finion breathed out, and as she did, Shen’s true form became apparent.

Her youngest sister, Fen, sat in there, smiling and crying.

“I wasn’t sure if it was you,” Fen cried. “It’s been so long, and you had so weak an aura about you that I thought you were just another human. But your name, you never changed your name, and you were always so particular about how you liked things to be, that I thought it might be you.”

Finion was at a loss for words. She knew that not everyone had died in that final attack, but after years of searching and finding no one she’d assumed they had all been captured.

“How did you survive?” Finion asked.

“I hid in the woods for years,” she explained. “When I finally did come out, I pretended to be a lost traveler. A family took me in and I got lucky and took their names without anyone finding out. I was able to use them and their posterity to serve me for the a few centuries but eventually the line grew weak and they died out. After that I tried to find a new family but people are still very careful about their names. I mean, even in the old days we were lucky to catch one person in a century and that was with all of us.”

“I thought I was the only one left,” Finion wept and she and her sister embraced.

“I have something to show you,” Fen told her as she got back out of the car. “Come on.”

Finion did so and walked back towards the house with her sister.

“While I was in the woods,” Fen explained, “I wove a glamour over the house. I couldn’t repair the damage already done, but I could prevent any more from coming to it.”

She passed her hand in front of them as if wiping a window and the glamour over the house fell. The iron studs in the door vanished, along with all of the modern elements. In their place were so many of the things Finion remembered. They weren’t perfect, with all the damage done to them all those centuries ago still unrepaired, but the house was not unlivable.

“I bought it a few years ago,” Fen told her, taking her by the hand and leading her inside. “Every once in a while I put it up on the market in the hopes of finding more of the family.”

The softness of their mother’s moss cushioned their footsteps as they entered the house. There were gouges here and there in the moss, regular patterns from the iron shod footsteps of their attackers. The moss would never regrow there. Most of the woodwork was intact, and there were even a few pieces of furniture that hadn’t been smashed.

When they reached the hearth, Finion felt her heart swell as she gazed up into the etched faces of her family, set into the stones above the fireplace. Their likeness was impeccable and yet they lacked the spark of life. Still, even these stone visages were a dear comfort to her loneliness.

“Welcome home, sister,” Fen managed to say through tears of her own and they embraced, each looking up into the faces of those they’d lost.