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Once Upon a Broken Heart

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Stephanie Garber

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“In the North, fairytales and history were treated as one and the same because their stories and histories were all cursed. Some tales couldn't be written down without bursting in to flames, others couldn't leave the North, and many changed every time they were shared, becoming less and less real with every retelling. It was said that every Northern tale had started as true history, but over time, the Northern story curse had twisted all the tales until only bits of truth remained. One of the stories Liana used to tell Evangeline was The Ballad of the Archer and the Fox, a romantic tale about a crafty peasant girl who could transform in to a fox and the young archer who loved her, but was cursed with the need to hunt her down and kill her.”

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“His lips brushed over the delicate underside of her wrist. Once. Twice. Three times. It was barely a touch, and yet there was something incredibly intimate about it. It made her think of the other stories that said his kisses might have been fatal, but they were worth dying for. Jacks' cool mouth dragged intentionally back and forth over her racing pulse, velvety and gentle and- his sharp teeth dug in to her skin. She cried out, 'You bit me!' 'Relax, pet. I didn't draw any blood.' His eyes shone brighter as he dropped her arm. She ran a finger over the tender skin he'd just sunk his teeth into. Three thin white scars, shaped like tiny broken hearts, lined the underside of her wrist. One for each kiss.”

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“Her steps took her deeper inside the cathedral. Everything was shockingly white. White carpets, white candles, white prayer pews of white oak, white aspen, and flaky white birch. Evangeline passed row after row of mismatched white benches. They might have been handsome once, but now many had missing legs, while others had mutilated cushions or benches that had been broken in half. Broken. Broken. Broken.”

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“Made of granite with marbled blue veins and as tall as a castle's keep, the arch's weathered columns were carved to look like mermaids holding tridents that pierced through carvings of men, the way a sailor might spear a fish. The men's backs were bowed, and their hands stretched to hold out the sign forming the top of the enormous arch. WELCOME TO THE MAGNIFICENT NORTH. STORIES BE HERE.”

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“... a robust pop sounded and a tiny pepper black dragon about the size of a chipmunk shot out streams of red fire to sear a fish stick at a nearby stall. On the docks, the adorable little beasts appeared to be as common as squirrels. Almost every vendor had one. Marisol was clearly not fond of the small winged creatures but Evangeline was delighted to spy tiny blue dragons sitting on shoulders and leathery brown ones perched on carts. The miniature beasts roasted apples and meats, blew glass baubles, and heated earthen mugs of drinking chocolate.”

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