Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett EPUB & PDF – eBook Details online
- Author Name: Heather Fawcett
- Book Genre: Fiction
- ISBN #
- Edition Language: English
- Date of Publication: January 10, 2023
- File Format: PDF / EPUB
- PDF / EPUB File Size: 3 MB
20th October, 1909
Hrafnsvik, Ljosland
Shadow is not at all happy with me. He lies by the fire
while the chill wind rattles the door, tail inert, staring out
from beneath that shaggy forelock of his with the sort of
accusatory resignation peculiar to dogs, as if to say: Of all the stupid
adventures you’ve dragged me on, this will surely be the death of us. I fear I
have to agree, though this makes me no less eager to begin my research.
Herein I intend to provide an honest account of my day-to-day activities
in the field as I document an enigmatic species of faerie called “Hidden
Ones.” This journal serves two purposes: to aid my recollection when it
comes time to formally compile my field notes, and to provide a record for
those scholars who come after me should I be captured by the Folk.
Verba
volant, scripta manent. As with previous journals, I will presume a basic
understanding of dryadology in the reader, though I will gloss certain
references that may be unfamiliar to those new to the field.
I have not had reason to visit Ljosland before, and would be lying if I
said my first sighting this morning didn’t temper my enthusiasm.
The
journey takes five days from London, and the only vessel to get you there is
a weekly freighter carrying a great variety of goods and a much smaller
variety of passengers. We ventured steadily north, dodging icebergs, whilst
I paced the deck to keep my seasickness at bay. I was among the first to
sight the snowbound mountains rising out of the sea, the little red-roofed
village of Hrafnsvik huddled below them like Red Riding Hood as the wolf
loomed behind her.
We inched carefully up to the dock, striking it hard once, for the grey
waves were fierce. The gangway was lowered by means of a winch
operated by an old man with a cigarette clamped nonchalantly between his
teeth—how he kept it lit in that wind was a feat so impressive that hours
later I found myself thinking back to the glowing ember darting through the
sea spray.
I came to the realization that I was the only one disembarking. The
captain set my trunk down upon the frosty dock with a thunk, giving me his
usual bemused smile, as if I were a joke he only half understood. My fellow
passengers, it seemed, few that there were, were headed for the only city in
Ljosland—Loabær, the ship’s next port of call. I would not be visiting
Loabær, for one does not find the Folk in cities, but in the remote, forgotten
corners of the world.
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