Don't Enter the Fairy Ring
2.7k Views · Ongoing · Sheridan Hartin
Rae Meadowlark has spent her whole life in a little cabin in the woods, raised by the grandmother who filled her head with old folklore and impossible warnings. "Never step into a fairy ring. Never trust a silent path. Never give your blood to old places." Rae never thought any of it was real. Then her grandmother dies, leaving Rae alone with the cabin, the forest, and all the strange protective things tucked into the corners of her home. As she clears them away and tries to find herself again, one careless step takes her straight through a fairy ring and into a world she was never meant to see.
A world where Cian of Hollow Hill has been waiting in chains.
A fallen fae prince, brutalised by years of captivity, Cian is the last surviving heir of a court long thought destroyed. His enemies want the hidden roads to his people, and they have spent years spilling his blood to force those ancient paths open. Instead, the road answers with Rae.
Now trapped in a realm of buried magic, cruel courts, and old laws written long before humans knew to fear the dark, Rae is forced into the orbit of a man as dangerous as he is broken.
'Little white flowers speckle the green inside the circle, and the grass there looks softer somehow, brighter. Nanna’s voice flitters through my memories again.
“Don’t enter the fairy ring.” I take a few slow steps forward, more amused than anything else.
“You dramatic old woman,” I murmur.'
A world where Cian of Hollow Hill has been waiting in chains.
A fallen fae prince, brutalised by years of captivity, Cian is the last surviving heir of a court long thought destroyed. His enemies want the hidden roads to his people, and they have spent years spilling his blood to force those ancient paths open. Instead, the road answers with Rae.
Now trapped in a realm of buried magic, cruel courts, and old laws written long before humans knew to fear the dark, Rae is forced into the orbit of a man as dangerous as he is broken.
'Little white flowers speckle the green inside the circle, and the grass there looks softer somehow, brighter. Nanna’s voice flitters through my memories again.
“Don’t enter the fairy ring.” I take a few slow steps forward, more amused than anything else.
“You dramatic old woman,” I murmur.'















































