Chapter Text
As a general rule of logic, when one hears the phrase “yo Clara I dare to you go walk through the Heathbury faerie circle” it would do best to ignore it
However at this moment ‘one’ is a sleep deprived student who completed their final exams mere hours prior, before getting drunk as fuck, it is 3am and the proposition came from your dreaded rival Lyrelle Wynmock the bitch.
(Oh and also your girlfriend is out of town and she’s like 90% of your impulse control and you really really miss her.)
And so our dear protagonist instead replies “omg yes that would so wild haha!!”
(It is at this point I feel I should introduce our ‘dear protagonist’. Clara Duvall, 3rd year psychology student, orphan, not-so-rising musician, voted most likely to punch a homophobe among the student body of Heathbury University and Witch. With a capital ‘w’ because yes to clarify this is a world where magic is a known and common part of society. Urban Fantasy if you will)
Clara and her cohort of equally drunk friends and co-students then troop down from where they were celebrating on the roof of their dorms ( a lovely bit of early 19th century architecture complete with stone carvings of beautiful wild fae ominously illuminated by the half moon, though at this point in time they were serving as an impromptu shelf for empty beer bottles and shed clothing), to the circle.
Giggling Clara is shoved to the front of the group approaching the rusted iron fence. Beyond which is an innocent looking ring of mushrooms.
Now everyone knows that faerie circles are natural portals to the fey realm and are best avoided especially if you are not fey yourself. This particular circle was at the centre of the main campus and had never been entered despite the best efforts of generations of dumbass students. It was speculated that the university had been built around it. Also built around it was a tall iron (for repelling any fey coming from the other direction) fence imbued with repelling charms and protective wards. Spell work that had been completely forgotten about by the current group of attempted breachers. But as stated before drunk, sleep deprivation, missing girlfriend.
Clara grips the iron bars and the almost unnatural cold of the metal shocks some sense into her. Temporarily. Before it is shrugged of under the excited laughter of her friends.
She is also a Short Person and thus used to climbing anything and everything should the need arise. This means she makes short work of the fence and perches precariously on top, one leg swung over either side. She fumbles for her phone tucked into her shoe to take congratulatory selfies.
Which is why it takes her a moment too long to notice the angry professor stalking towards them. All it takes is a yell of “hey you! Students what do you think you’re doing!”
And Clara releases a squeak of surprise, loses her balance and tumbles headfirst of the fence right into the centre of the mushroom circle. There is a brief flash of light, and she is gone before she hits the ground.
…
“oh fuck” says someone aptly.
Clara groans at the light punishing her from behind her eyelids. The curtains must have been left open. Her roommate and bestie, Tamati, isn’t careless or anything though so it must be intentional. Can’t he see she’s hungover and pitiful and doesn’t deserve this torture? Although he could have been paid to do it. Maybe Lyrelle or Thomas The Evangelist who always glares disapprovingly at them when they bring alcohol back to the dorms. Yeah, it’s probably that. Not that she blames him, or anything she’d have done the same. Still doesn’t mean revenge won’t be swift and likely sticky.
Ugh, too much thinking. Head. Stop. Pounding. Whyyyy.
There was also a rushing roaring sound. Weird.
Hang on, when did she even get back to the dorms? Tamati had stayed in for much needed sleep and none of her other friends would care enough to get her back safely when it was much funnier to leave her crashed at a bar. And of course, one true love Emily was away for a family emergency.
Well at least she didn’t have to get up for classes. Yay.
Releasing one more pained grunt she waved her hand in the general direction of the curtains sending a gust of wind to blow them into submission *cough* place.
The light didn’t abate. Weird.
Clara peeled her eyes open and stared up at clear blue sky. She stared at it for several more moments trying to figure out how it got there.
She sat up ignoring the aches in all her muscles. She was not in her bed. She was not even in the city. All around her was dark damp sand strewn with broken seashells and seaweed. Not 10 feet away were softly breaking waves and an ocean horizon broken up by craggy rocks.
Twisting the other way, she saw more dark rocks eventually leading up to a headland and beyond that a treeline. In the very distance rain clouds were gathering.
Huh.
“okayy so this isn’t the first time I’ve accidentally drunk-portaled myself”, she said out loud. She climbed to her feet and brushed the sand out of shoulder length platinum hair. Unsuccessfully.
“soo I just have to portal myself back home, easy enough except I don’t actually know where the fuck I am…” she trailed of.
The key component of any portal spell was the exact coordinates of both where you were and where you wanted to get to. Kind of like gps. Before the invention of coordinates, it was more like knowing the exact location on a geographically accurate map. And before that… well Clara doesn’t actually know, history is not her favourite subject after all. Anyway nowadays most towns had a ‘portal point’ with their coordinates clearly visible on a sign and, recently, available online so sorcerers could get to anywhere in the world. You may wonder how such fiddly spell work could be done while wasted to which Clara would reply fuck you I’m an intelligent being.
But that also meant that like, she would have to know her current location too right? Looking around didn’t ring any bells. It didn’t look at all like that beach from her one fateful trip to California. It did look a lot more similar to the beaches near her university in Wales. But she didn’t have any of those coordinates memorised.
(Clara herself was Canadian but she was desperate for any opportunity to get away from the town outside Montreal where her parents died and when she won a scholarship across an ocean she didn’t hesitate.)
… Although, If anything she’d have expected her drunk self to go straight to Emily.
Maybe this was all a prank?
Fighting her slightly rising anxiety she decided she might as well walk until she came across a landmark. It was getting a bit chilly, and she was only wearing her customary black crop top and shorts and some high thighs that did nothing for the cold and creeping sea breeze. She was more than ready for a hot shower and some coffee.
However, as she sighed and started walking, she noticed her phone lying in a clump of sea weed a few feet away. The phone she dropped when she-
Oh no.
It clicked.
Fuck. Of fuck fuck fuck-
The faerie ring!
She was in the bloody faerie realm and she was going to get ensnared and used for her admittedly rad guitar skills by some fae lady until she was slowly tortured and killed by the jealous husband and no one would know what had happened and she’d never see Emily again or use the stupid degree she worked her butt of for or-
Or-
Wait a minute, this looked nothing like the faerie realm it was too…normal, non-extravagant and gaudy. And there were no asshole fae laughing at her predicament. maybe they were hiding under the waves? But she’d probably sense them…
So… not the faerie realm? Where else could she have ended up? And honestly in hindsight she shouldn’t have been able to even get near the circle. The wards were too powerful and like Clara was good but not that good. Damnit, this was getting so goddamn weird, and she already had a stupid hangover.
Well at least annoyance was better than panic so she might as well ride the wave. And her find a landmark plan seemed better than nothing.
Clara snatched up her phone. No signal obviously. Though despite the circumstances her lock screen – a picture of Clara a blush-y smiley mess while Emily pressed a kiss to her cheek – brought out a smile.
With one last sigh of frustration to the heavens she set of down the beach. In the left direction cause why not.
It had been at least an hour already and there was nothing but more beach. Which had now transitioned into rocky beach. And it was drizzling. She was cold and wet and miserable.
And there was something stuck in her shoe.
Wait her shoe!
Clara excitedly undid the laces of her super awesome red converse and tugged it of tipping it into her hand. There in her palm lay a miniature backpack. It was Emily’s idea as all the best ideas are. A night out survival pack in case of emergency!
Clara waved her other hand over the bag channelling her intent and the magical energy that stayed stored in her chest. Soon enough there was a full-size backpack in front of her.
Emily ex machina! Clara would have to remember to write her another love ballad when this was over.
Digging in she pulled out her favourite red bomber jacket with the uni logo on the back. There was also her wallet, a bottle of water, backup travel sized alchemy kit, hangover remedy (huzzah), backup wipes and eyeliner, brush and hair ties, and her penknife and lockpicks cause you never know. At the bottom lay a miniature bicycle. Her guitar was also miniature but that was far too precious for the shoe and was attached to her charm necklace (used for holding spells tied to crystals).
Clara took a swig of the hangover remedy, which tasted vile as all useful things do, pulled on her jacket and backpack, put the penknife in her pocket and set off with much renewed spirits.
10 minutes later when her headache had finally cleared and she could properly think, she picked up on the fact that someone was watching her. And had for some time.