NO DREAMS. NO NIGHTMARES. Just the lulling play of water over a brook that ran all the colours of the rainbow due to the profusion of underwater weed that lined its course. A wooded glade that delighted her soul from the instant she opened her eyes. Delicate, curling fronds of ferns fringed a small pond where Faerie of all colours and sizes played together. Faelings slid down a mossy water chute flowing from somewhere above the pond with wild shrieks of delight. Over to her left, the Scintillants Kartan, Saritan and Izzini spoke earnestly with four of the Shapeshifter Fae. Judging by the sparkle in Izzini’s eyes as she shyly met the gaze of a strapping green boyfae opposite, matters of certain import were in the air, one might safely conclude.

What new wonders might arise if different kinds of Faerie began to marry across the ancient tribal lines? Apparently, even speaking the same language was superfluous. Such had been the ways of Faerie sap since Middlesun’s very first dawn within Spheris.

Zzuriel nipped over the pond, playing as she left brief icy footprints upon the water. Harzune’s gaze followed her across as if drawn by the magnetic play of her translucent wings.

Aye, his longing was as transparent as those wings, too.

On the point of slipping over to join in and dance with the Diamond Faerie, Allory heard a scuffle break out to her left. Oh, Xiximay and Varzune were going at it bough to bough. Suggids! Guess the simmering rancour had developed into a proper fight. That had been brewing for a while.

“Fight me!” Xiximay yelled furiously, wrestling him across the blue, green and purple mosses toward the water. “Fight, you coward!”

“No, that’s not our way,” said Varzune, protecting his neck from her winding arms.

“I will not tolerate this dishonour. You will pay for these offences.”

“How’ve I offended you now?” he grunted, trying to throw her off, which was like trying to peel a lichen off a rock. Not happening. “Get off, you spitting bonfire. When are you ever not offended? You’re angry at everything.”

“And you make it all a flaming joke! Do you even care about anything? Ouch!”

Their heads clacked together by accident.

Harzune made to go break up the fight, but Ashueli touched his arm. “Let it be.”

When Xiximay rolled over, however, shaking her head, a dangerous light had entered her eyes. Ice prickled down Allory’s spine. In a low voice, the Phoenix Fae growled, “You’re a joker, a trickster, the one who can never be trusted, who takes nothing seriously – nothing in all Spheris. I’m sick of your practical jokes! I’m sick of you!”

“Oh, you wound me.”

He put his hand to his heart and had the gall to rub her nose in the nectar with the Deepwoods’ biggest smirk.

She pounced upon him with a raw scream. Varzune began to laugh, as if this were yet another jest. Ten seconds later, that muscular arm snaked beneath his chin – Allory recognised the hold from her training with the Chameleons – and she exerted strong pressure upon his windpipe. The way the Phoenix clamped his torso with her legs and his neck with her arms, even the bigger male Faerie could not escape, and her seething fury gave her strength beyond the norm.

Varzune started to turn a not-very-Chameleon colour. “Off, I said! Get off,” he choked out. “What’s the matter with you?”

His backward punch glanced off her left ear. Xiximay ignited in flaming wrath, but before the onlookers could quite process what was happening, Zzuriel shot over and touched her, extinguishing the fire before Varzune could be seriously burned.

Dodging out of range, the Diamond Fae called, “Play fair, Xiximay.”

The Phoenix yelled, “I’m always fair and –”

“About as much fun as a dry stick,” Varzune gasped out. Really, that was not a pleasant colour. Deep rhubarb, anyone?

“You take that back!”

“Can’t take a joke?”

“Life is not some joke! Who goes by the name of Jokerbro, anyway?” Xiximay rolled over with him, applying the stranglehold without mercy, yet her gaze was far, far away. “What do you care about anyway? You breeze through life … touching nothing, caring for nothing and nobody …”

He ground out, “Urgh! Not true. I care – ukk – for you.”

“You’re joking! How do I know? How does anyone? No-one truly cares, it’s all just words!”

Again, Harzune made to go to his brofae, whose struggles grew weaker, but Ashueli held him back. “Be the hero. Leave it.”

Varzune coughed, “Not joking. I truly … care …”

“How do I know? How do I know?” Her scream struck a new note, a note Allory had only ever heard in the silent screams inside her own heart. Self-loathing. Despair. “You – you’re all laughing at me!” The Phoenix Fae seemed to lose her strength, falling limp in realisation. “I … when you laugh … all I hear is … their ridicule, over and over …”

Oh, suggids! Allory sagged in turn, her heart twisting like a jungle vine within her as she realised what Xiximay had revealed. Just like her own fears? It was as if someone had thrown open a new cocoon in her mind. Did all people have these fears, this inner pain?

The Chameleon Fae writhed suddenly in her grasp, turning about to face Xiximay. His powerful hands twisted her arms behind her back before she found the will to resist, a wrestling variation Allory had not seen before, somehow trapping both of her hands with a one-handed grip. The other hand emerged to caress her cheek. Her eyes blazed! Zzuriel hovered close by for a second, then when the Chameleon’s skin started to sizzle, she whipped in to touch Xiximay’s toe. Her own frost diminished noticeably.

Sharp moves. The Phoenix Fae vented a hiss as if she could not imagine such a betrayal by her magical opposite. Zzuriel lifted her chin as if to say, ‘and what of it?’ Allory decided she was a terrible judge of character. Picked the Diamond Fae for the shy, quiet type? Ha. Wrong leaf on the wrong branch on the wrong tree … in only the whole wrong suggid-sucking forest!

Very softly, Varzune said, “If you cannot hear my words, woman, then listen to this.”

He lowered his lips toward hers.

“Varzune! Varzune, stop!”

She averted her face, causing his lips to brush the corner of her mouth ever so briefly. He halted the motion but did not loosen his grip; the Phoenix’s muscles bulged, but she could not shift him.

Xiximay hissed, “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you. Is that not clear enough? You’re hot stuff!” Harzune clapped his hand to his forehead; Xiximay stiffened even further in Varzune’s arms, if that were possible. But then he added, “Sorry. All jokes aside, I want – no, I need you to know that I care – more than merely care – for you, Xiximay. I guess the jokes are more like a form of self-defence against my feelings. For you. In case that wasn’t – uh, wasn’t quite so flaming obvious.”

Every nuance of her body language queried him wordlessly.

The Chameleon swallowed hard. His yellow eyes appeared to moisten at the edges. Nothing for it but to forge forward, now. Allory tried to remember to breathe. She had thought all that mutual sparking and quarrelling meant that they hated each other!

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Clearly, she was sipping from the winning nectar today.

Varzune whispered, “Aye. When I’m around you, I just find you so beautiful, dangerous and, like, totally mesmerising … you know, that ‘wow she’s so amazing’ and my throat goes all dry and I start to babble foolish things. Like that you’re hot stuff. I mean, it’s literally true and I do think that you’re more kinds of awesome than there are leaves in these Deepwoods, but woman, you’re a difficult one! You don’t let anyone get close. The way you make me feel … it’s like nothing I’ve ever known before. My heart’s just a great, big throbbing mess around you.”

Harzune snorted and threw up his hands.

Her turn to swallow audibly. “I don’t let people in? Varzune, it’s because I end up burning anyone I love. Don’t you understand? I can’t … I can’t let you become close. It’s too dangerous, and I’m afraid, so very afraid I would just –” she shrugged helplessly “– hurt you.”

“I’m close to you right now. Not charcoaled yet.”

Guess that passed for a positive sign.

Her dark eyes searched his for the longest time. “You … are. Is this truly how you feel, Varzune Fae? You truly –”

“Aye! I’m truly a complete mess – uh, sorry. Habit.”

“Is that so?” she laughed gruffly. “And how’s about if I suggest this?”

She kissed him lightly upon the point of his nose.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” he breathed. Xiximay kissed him again, finding his lips this time. “I’m sorry –”

“Sorry about kissing me?”

“Varzune. Be quiet. Do this.” She pursed her lips. He copied the gesture, his eyes alight with surprise and passion. His pulse leaped fretfully in his neck. Allory’s did the same. Could this fragile liaison work out, against all odds? “Good. Now, listen closely. I’m sorry I’ve been such a flame-head all this time. I guess I didn’t understand you. Nor anything about you. You drive me crazy, Varzune Fae – a good kind of crazy. Lethal as my flames may be, they do burn for you alone.”

She paused.

“Phew, boil my nectar,” he breathed. When she said nothing more, he added, “Subtle hint, my lips might get stuck in this position.”

“No, no – you ridiculous man … how could this ever work?”

“We’ll never know without testing the fires.”

Harzune raised a great cheer and then ordered everyone not to look as the new couple resolved their issues with stuck lips, leaping flames and mutual passion.

Allory chuckled to Yaarah, “Well, I did not see that coming.”

He purred, “I did, mrrr-hrrr.”

“Oh, you did, did you? Impossible Furball.”

“Zzuriel?”

They both turned as Harzune called the Diamond Fae’s attention – softly, but this Scintillant’s ears were long and pointy. Zzuriel had continued to watch over the couple, probably aiming to ensure that Varzune did not expire in a blissful cloud of smoke. For a living icicle, Allory thought, she certainly knew a thing or two about warm caring.

She smiled shyly at him. “And?”

“And, in other news about the cocoon, your toes are creating miniature snow flurries,” he noted, to her evident startlement. “Are you happy, Zzuriel?”

She caught her breath. “I … am. I am!”

Priceless, the wonder of realisation.

Stretching over, he brushed her cheek delicately with his lips. “Do you want to know something else?”

The girlfae went very still indeed.

Harzune said, “Well?”

A shaky puff of white appeared on her next breath. “No – I mean, aye?”

“Thank you for what you just did for my brofae and Xiximay, Zzuriel,” he said, sounding awfully formal all of a sudden. Allory hoped he packed away his obscure poetry and went with sincerity. “Frosting her fires was the perfect contribution. Yet I would also be remiss not to take this opportunity to make the feelings of my heart plain. Usually, I have many words. Too many. Perhaps, drawing a needful lesson from goings-on over there …”

He slipped his hands about her waist, murmuring something in her ear before deftly depositing another kiss upon her pale cheek. Closer to the target, but not quite. Rotton tease! It seemed Harzune had learned a wing-flip or two about not charging in with all heroic qualities blazing, and not to froth the nectar prematurely, it appeared to be working. The sudden moisture in Zzuriel’s eyes froze as delicate crystals rimming her eyelids, like a wintry form of makeup.

Since he did not instantly turn into an icicle, Allory had to conclude that her friends were doing just fine. Another case of stuck lips – stuck together – developed very shortly. Not even iced together. Just … kissing.

A minor miracle for a girlfae who thought herself accursed.

Maybe it was all this fleeing from realm-eating monstrosities that turned the flow of peoples’ heart-sap to romance? Chuckle.

Not that she had anyone special. Just … a band of the best friends under Middlesun, and that – toss any runtish thoughts farther than the other side of Spheris – that was enough for this girlfae. She beamed about in glee, savouring the joy being sprinkled about this glade this day.

Chenixipi and Garobixi floated beside one another over by the pond, helping one of the younger Shapeshifter families. The wifae was in late pregnancy with twins and had been suffering some bleeding, probably as a result of all the mistreatment. Fakori Fae coached an impromptu choir of Faelings. Their piping song drifted over the peaceful scene. Ashueli and Sabline sparred over by one of the tall trees, but when they sensed Allory and Yaarah’s gaze upon them, they prowled over together.

Aye, and that Elf. She stalked over like a huntress.

“Give us a wingtip there, Sparkles,” said Ash, holding out her smallest finger.

Allory whirled and kicked it. “How’s this, Sweetblades?”

“Excellent form on the aerial roundhouse kick,” the Princess noted. “Royal stamp of approval.”

“So, when are we finding you a man?” the Scintillant smiled back. The green eyes flashed. Bite the lip! Groan. “Sorry. I should have thought – suggids! This tongue of mine–”

“Aye, I’m sorry too,” Ash said tautly. “Not your fault, Allory. I’m sure that wealthy, literal suggid will ooze out from beneath his favourite rotting log in due time to stake his claim. Let’s talk about next steps. Yaarah?”

“Quite, mrrr-prrr,” he said, clearing his throat in that way he always did when he was about to make a speech. “So, the Shapeshifter Fae are discussing travelling to Ahm-Shira to meet with the Faerie King. They have urgent business to conduct with him. For our part I believe we should, with all haste, raid the archives there for information about our enemies and, if possible, rouse the Elves and Faerie to war. However, we should also consult with your great-grandfather, Ashueli – his abode lies in almost exactly the opposite direction, almost on the far sun-spinward edge of the Deepwoods. My whiskers-sense draws me toward the Elven Seer. His gifting would be to speak into your fundamental nature, Allory, which in turn might lead us to a strategy that could succeed against the Ascended Septuani and the Wraith. We should not forget, that’s his physical kingdom out there according to what we’ve learned. Sabline?”

“Aye, my paws track with yours,” the Sabrefang agreed. “We cannot take such enemies down without knowing more.”

“What of your deeper thoughts, mrrr-frrr? Will you share?”

Turning toward the Scintillant, Sabline sighed and said, “Allory, this is my answer and my apology for hurting you before, frrr-hssst.”

Helpless shrug. “Sabline, I’m lost.”

“Remember when we were joking about intelligent thoughts and I nearly tore your little head off right afterward?”

“Eep! Uh, that is, I do. What of it?”

Sabline coughed self-consciously, before purring, “Well, one of the qualities I admire most about a certain golden scholar is that he helps me to feel … intelligent. Like I’m worth listening to; that I matter. In my tribe, due to the stigma associated with my physical debilities, I was never consulted nor included in any discussion, decision or strategy making. Those wounds go deeper than I ever imagined or realised until recently.”

Feeling terrifically daring, Allory exercised her wings to visit Sabline’s head for a scratch at her tufty black ears. “I understand. Sorry.”

Yaarah blinked very slowly at her. “Hrrr-frrr, then speak your wisdom, o –”

“Nightzephyr.”

It was only after everyone turned to stare at her and Ashueli winked – hint, hint – that Allory realised she had spoken her thought aloud. Suggids!

“A tad gentle for a nickname, perhaps?” Yaarah ventured, clearly deeply uneasy given his mate’s usual volatility.

Allory gasped, “I – I’m so sorry, I was only thinking –” To open my mouth and stick my foot in right up to the knee, perhaps?

“I lllurrr-rrrve it!” Sabline rumbled unexpectedly, either sounding deeply moved or perhaps as if she was gargling three jungle porcupines at once. “It’s purr-fect.”

“Eep?”

What under Middlesun was going on now?

Ruffling her dark wings with a gesture Allory had come to recognise as Felidragon pleasure, Sabline explained, “I’m a predator. I’ve always imagined myself to as akin to a zephyr of the darkest night. To my prey, I seem to drift in from nowhere, unseen and unheard, striking from the shadows, an unseen whisper of death. That image has lived in my imagination for many a year.”

The Scintillant could only shake her head slowly.

“See?” Sabline agreed. “How did you achieve this insight, friend Fae? The Wraith will not be defeated unless we understand its fascination with death. That means we need to travel to the source, or to grasp knowledge of it … somehow. What is scintillance, exactly? What is its origin and purpose? Why and how do you carry a weight of souls, Allory Fae? And since you demonstrate the power of resurrection, what does death truly mean?”

On that note, she shivered inwardly, if the Marakusian city had indeed been destroyed, then where was the weight of all those souls? Why had it not crushed her once and for all? Then, intuition spread like bitter bile down the back of her throat to unsettle her stomach. The capacity of the soul locket must have increased. She … sensed it was so.

How much could it even hold?

Oh, suggids. She hugged herself. This was bad.

Yaarah whispered, “The source! Of course. How cogently you state the issue, mrrr-hrrr, my fire-heart. Life juxtaposed with death. Resurrection implies immortality. What greater power is there? All those dreams, Allory, the Wraith –”

“Seeks this power,” she interjected, a broken whisper.

Her companions exhaled as one.

“Aye. What other reason could there be?” she added. “This soul locket must be the key.”

“Or you yourself,” Ash put in quietly.

Allory had to swallow back a surge of bile. “Aye. Or little me.”