The Speed Limit Is Enforced by Witchcraft
Collage by Iman.
Bertie hummed a melody to herself as she drove on the desolate road, not a trace of a single soul in that tranquil moment. Lofty trees covered either side of the road for as far as the eye can see, and she wondered what kind of mysteries they could be hiding behind them. The sky dimmed as the sun set below the horizon, and she saw a sign post in the distance, worn out and decayed.
The speed limit is enforced by witchcraft. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion but she brushed it off as a silly prop. However, as she passed the sign, she felt an overwhelming force push her against her seat. Instinctively, she closed her eyes in fear of the impact. When she opened her eyes again, her body was awash with a feeling of extreme pain and light-headedness almost as if the very fibers of her reality were being pulled and picked at.
The sound of shrill laughter rang in her ears as she gained consciousness, squinting her eyes in an attempt to focus her fuzzy vision. The night sky was overcast and uninviting. Her eyes darted to and fro desperately trying to determine her whereabouts. She was in the heart of a clearing and surrounding her were incredibly small winged creatures, emitting that shrill laughter. Pixies.
"I hear her name is Birdie," one said. "A bird without wings? How pitiful!" the other replied. "Where are your wings, Birdie?" another taunted.
She paused in perplexity. "What? I'm not a bird, my name is Bertie! B-E-R-T-I-E," she retorted.
Laughter erupted from the pixies. "Oh, you poor thing," one of them cooed mockingly. A rustle in the bushes ceased their shrieks of laughter and the air became tense with caution as the pixies exchanged wary glances. A minute passed in silence before an arrow shot through the bramble, evoking a surge of panic from the pester of pixies.
A stream of arrows followed the first, snagging the pixies’ clothing and trapping them. From the nettle emerged a tall and slender figure, carrying a much stubbier and stouter one on their shoulder. The former advanced into the center of the clearing, kneeling to set her small friend on the ground. Bertie began to register what these creatures were—they seemed to be an elf and a dwarf. The dwarf wobbled towards the nearest pixie and plucked it from the ground, shaking it vigorously and stuffing it in his lamp. The action caused the pixie to glow like a lightbulb.
“Why does this keep happening?” the dwarf grumbled to himself.
“There seems to have been a warp between the realities, Algir,” the elf replied.
“Yes, and now I have to deal with another one of these people,” he complained. Algir frowned at Bertie and said, “Well, c'mon now. Let’s get this over with.”
Bertie stumbled onto her feet and followed them through the backwoods. She felt a thousand eyes burn holes in the back of her head yet her companions seemed completely unconcerned.
The elf cleared a bush out of the way, revealing a small cabin hiding amongst the trees. The cabin was quite charming for outsiders, with two doors: one normal-sized door and another so small Bertie would’ve mistaken it for a doggy door. Algir swung the small door open and waddled in, while Bertie and the elf used the traditional door.
“I’m Fraeya,” the elf introduced herself. “You must be confused, let us explain.”
Fraeya urged Bertie to sit down before explaining. Her eyes trailed off in deep thought before she said, “To put it lightly, you’re not supposed to be here. Our realities are closely bound but are never meant to collide.”
“But these days more and more people seem to be spilling into our reality,” Algir continued.
“Which leads us to think there is a warp somewhere. We can only escort your kind back to your own realities when it is fixed.”
“Ya think it would be easy to do that, but every person left in their own bizarre way.” Algir flopped onto his armchair with a sigh.
“So, Bertie, do you know anything that might help us lead you back home?”, Fraeya asked.
Bertie sat in astonishment, still having a hard time processing the information. “The Pixies said something about ‘my wings’ but I’m not a bird,” Bertie responded doubtfully.
Fraeya appeared to be mentally connecting the dots. “We must go to the Crow Kingdom ruins—if it’s about flight, that is the most logical destination.”
Algir glanced at the two of them. “No time to waste then, let’s go.”
✶
“We’re here,” Algir announced. Bertie’s eyes scanned the area. Moss and vines decorated the ruins, tattered flags still hanging from some of them.
“What happened to this place?” Bertie asked.
“Wars with neighboring kingdoms. A shame really, used to be a beautiful place,” Algir answered.
Bertie’s gaze then reached the only artifact intact: an ancient tree so large, it cast a shadow on the entirety of the ruins. Fraeya approached the tree and knelt down, connecting with its base. Radiating energy gathered around her as she did.
A spirit emerged from the eye of the ancient tree, glowing bright as a star, forcing them to squint at the intensity of the light. “Why have you summoned me, elf?” said the spirit.
Fraeya raised her head to meet the spirit’s eyes. “Please, spirit of these ruins, gift us the wings that will grant a flightless bird its freedom.” The spirit gazed down at Fraeya, exchanging a thousand unspoken words with her.
“Very well, child,” the spirit answered.
From within the heart of the spirit emerged an amulet, with dainty a charm shaped like the wings of a crow. It floated towards Bertie, but right before she could clasp it, a figure flashed before her, snatching the amulet and darting away.
“Follow him!” yelled Algir frantically. Fraeya was light on her feet—she grabbed both Bertie and Algir and ran after the thief without a second thought. Their surroundings flashed before their eyes as they gained in on the thief, but it was as if he had vanished into thin air—they had lost him. Instead, they found themselves in front of a goblin tribe.
“Has anyone come by here, by any chance?” Algir asked. As Fraeya and Algir occupied themselves with questioning the locals of the village, Bertie gradually tuned them out, fixating on a scene in the distance: a young goblin playing with a couple of tree sprites. Bertie watched as some of the sprites bathed in dew and others carried foliage to their houses. When she lifted her eyes from the ground, the goblin child was standing in front of her.
“My mom told me to give this to you,” he said, a biscuit in his extended hand.
“Thank you,” she answered politely, accepting the gift. The little goblin boy sat down next to her and the tree sprites followed suit, flying excitedly around the two and ruffling Bertie’s hair, earning a chuckle from her.
“I’ve never seen anybody like you before. Are you gonna stay with us?” the goblin boy asked curiously.
“Well, I haven’t thought of staying, but now I’m getting second thoughts,” she laughed, only half-joking. Then, she heard her name being called — it was time to hit the road.
“I gotta go now, thank you for the biscuit!” She smiled, jogging back to her companions.
Algir shot her a stern glare. “C’mon. move it,” he said as he swatted at her ankles in an effort to intimidate her.
“Alright, alright! C’mere, little guy,” she teased and scooped him up from the ground to carry him. Fraeya looked amused for a brief moment. Algir, on the other hand, was ranting under his breath bitterly.
One hour into walking, they were exhausted and in dire need of a break. Luckily, they spotted a cave in the distance. "Let's rest inside,” said Fraeya, slightly panting.
As soon as they entered the cave, they heard heavy breathing, Algir shook his lamp and in front of them an animal was illuminated, with the head of an owl and the body of a bear. “What’re you waiting for? Attack it!” shouted Algir.
Fraeya paused. “No, I sense it’s docile,” she said. The beast stared at Bertie deeply, as if it intended to speak to her. Fraeya reached for it’s head and shut her eyes to concentrate on it’s thoughts. “The Owlbear seems to feel sympathy for Bertie. It too is a flightless bird, cursed to dwell on the soil, never to return to its true home. It wishes to aid us.” Her voice reverberated inside the cold, empty cave.
The Owlbear followed the trail, zigzagging through the tightly woven trees, occasionally lifting its head to scope the area. It then stopped abruptly, and there the thief was, hidden by the forest’s dense thickets and shrubs, sitting on the edge of a well, amulet hanging from his neck.
“That’s the bottomless well,” whispered Algir, “No sudden movements, got it?”
Only it was too late, the Owlbear charged towards the thief without warning. The thief gasped in shock, losing his balance and tumbling into the well.
Bertie watched it unfold, eyes wide in alarm. “What am I supposed to do now?” she said to herself, struck with confusion as to why she wasn’t devastated that she lost her only ticket back home. Fraeya helped her down from the beast, keeping her hand on Bertie’s back in reassurance.
“What’s that?” Bertie’s gaze was diverted. In front of her a portal had opened, mirroring the road she was taking back to her home. “What? But—the amulet, it’s gone? This has got to be a mistake!”
“Bertie, it’s time to leave—” Algir was interrupted.
“You’re joking, right?” Bertie forced a laugh. She was met with silence.
“I don’t have to leave, though! I can stay with the two of you, and we can go on adventures like these!” she said in desperation, then pointing to the Owlbear: “I even thought of name for this guy—”
“Bertie, the reason you were warped into our world was to learn a lesson. Many people come to our world for that reason, and like them, you must leave as well. You never needed wings to leave, all you ever needed was your will,” Fraeya said.
“But I love this place! Can’t I stay?” Bertie blinked her tears away in frustration. Fraeya pulled her into an embrace, holding tight as Bertie sobbed into her shoulder.
Fraeya struggled to form words. “This is not where you belong. You have to let go, Bertie.”
Bertie withdrew, sniffling and trying to control her erratic breathing. Finally, she nodded, acknowledging the reality of this situation.
“You don’t have to see us for us to be there for you, we’ll never forget you.” Fraeya smiled and wiped away the tears on Bertie’s face.
“I’ll miss ya, kid,” mumbled Algir, avoiding eye-contact.
Bertie caught him by surprise when she locked him into a strong hug. “I’ll miss you, too,” she sighed into the hug.
Her time here was over now. She stepped back, waved, and took one last look at them before she departed.
Bertie gasped in bewilderment to find herself back in her car, as if nothing happened and she almost believed it until she felt something jangling in her pocket. She reached her hand inside and pulled the item out: it was the amulet. ◆
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