SOFT AND GREEN, the Deepwoods embraced the travellers and drew them onward. Fae of all kinds danced along a grassy trail that led deeper into the Elven territories. In this region, the trees were called barumiel, a leafy evergreen with radial branches spreading from the trunks almost at predefined heights, so that the forest appeared to support over a dozen distinct levels of foliage. The emerald-green leaves were fringed with trailing white hairs a foot long, creating the impression of arboreal fingers reaching out to brush the traveller’s shoulder or cheek. These trees grew one hundred and ten feet tall, but that was nothing compared to the deeper Deepwoods, Ashueli informed Allory in hushed tones.

Ten times taller. Twenty!

The Elf’s green eyes sparkled as never before.

What would this return to the Deepwoods, to the font and home of all Elven magic, do for her friend? Allory began to quake with an indefinable sense of premonition but was distracted by having to receive another family’s thanks. “Nihon-o toymi sa’el Middlesun-issa,” she demurred gently, sharing that she drew her power from the source of light for their world.

“Sohi ilyon amma Shafaerul-an toi!” they exclaimed. ‘How do you speak our secret language, called Shafaerul, so well?’

“Only through the gift you gave me,” Allory replied. “I am a Scintillant Fae. You are Shapeshifter Fae? I’ve never heard of a Scintillant who could change their true form. Indeed, if Istrazuki had not shown me the way, I am not sure I would have been able to return.”

“The first Shift is the hardest,” the Dadfae said. “I’m Imki. This is my beloved blossom, Irozuki, my wifae.”

Irozuki put in, “Istrazuki is our Queen. Usually, we call her Ishimoto Istrazuki.”

“Ah, like honoured or revered? I see.”

Explaining quickly to Yaarah, who as usual was keen to stick his scholarly whiskers into everything that did or did not concern him, she asked where they were from.

“The Hazintori Forests,” they said, chuckling when she shook her head. Imki said, “It’s a bamboo forest which looks like this.”

In an instant, he turned into a bushy bamboo sprout about five feet tall.

“Oh, how lovely,” Allory laughed. “Instant body art is certainly one way of showing people what your realm looks like! We Scintillants come from the deep Russet Jungles – some of us, anyways.”

“I’ve heard of those,” said Irozuki.

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“Isn’t it meant to be notoriously dangerous?” Istrazuki said, popping up behind Allory’s shoulder. “Are you a warrior, Allory?”

“Ah well, no, and not to us, Your … um, Ishimoto … Istrazuki?”

She chuckled, “I see that my secret has been spilled like fresh nectar shared between friends. Call me Istrazuki. Don’t you act shy now, Allory Fae. You have given my people an inestimable bequest. To be sure, I’m not quite used to heroines coming in quite such a diminutive size. How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“And you make a living from beating up Marakusian Slavers?”

As Allory offered a quick translation to those listening, Ash chuckled wickedly, “We call her Sparkles. She blinds them with a swift glint before kicking them in the –”

“Ashueli!” Allory gasped. “I’m quite sure I’ve no idea what you mean. Istrazuki, we sort of fell into this situation – this war – by accident while searching for my colony of Scintillant Fae, who were kidnapped by Marakusian Slavers some weeks ago. I’ve found no trace of them save for my sisfae. I introduced you, aye – of course I did. Silly me. I suspect your Faelings all think I’m just one of them, but I promise you, I’m small even for my kind. Comes with my being the useless runt, I guess. Eep …”

The old description popped out. Humiliating!

Istrazuki gripped Allory’s biceps in the way she had seen these Shapeshifter Fae do. Suggids, she was strong! “Up to two generations ago, some of our more superstitious colonies used to kill the runt. They were seen as cursed.” Allory caught her breath. “I know. We’ve many families of six rather than seven pupae-siblings for this reason. ‘Accidents’ still happen – a practice I have vowed to stamp out.”

“Please –” Allory touched the Green Fae’s arm with the one not currently being mangled.

“Sorry.” She uncurled her iron grip. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine.”

Physically fine, but more shaken than she wanted to admit. Murder the runt? Just like that?

Frozen to the core. Those were people. People like her. Discarded merely because they were smaller and weaker than others of their kind. Unwanted, despised, disposed of as quickly as one might toss out spoiled nectar. Had she … known this? Where was this in her strange not-memories?

For a time, Allory chose to slip away from the crowd, flying several tens of feet overhead amongst the foliage. When had two become four, then over two hundred? So many people. So overwhelming for a quiet, private soul.

Shake this grief off her wingtips. Ashueli had taught her that the Deepwoods spoke to Elves. If that were the case, no trees were talking to her so far, but Rhanjielle-Seryiansong the Dryad had taught her a smidgen of the incredible magic that fuelled the growth of mighty realms like this forest. She popped over to a tree trunk to have a listen but, to her disappointment, sensed only the faintest echo of what she had learned at Durhelm Castle – admittedly, she had literally been sitting atop a Dryad at the time.

Ahem. As one did with plant royalty.

What a day. Suddenly, a bone-deep weariness overcame her, as if all the magic had drained out of her and left in its wake the kind of lassitude that came from the knowledge of a job well done. On an impulse, she flew back to Yaarah and nestled down in his thick golden fur.

She would have preferred to be alone, but Izrimy came over to chat and reminisce. Seeing how her sisfae’s eyes kept lidding, however, she smiled and said:

“Creating all that resurrection magic must be such hard work. You sleep now.” The larger sisfae’s shadow fell over her as she stroked Allory’s hair gently. “Nothing will harm you, Allory Fae. I’m here for you.”

Our Dadfae used to say that – exactly that …

Please, let her not dream about that place. Never again.