> Rotblut

>

> Noun

>

> Translation: Red Blood / Death Blood

>

> Pronunciation: /ʁoːt'bluːt/

>

> Definition: It is the sanguine fluid that courses through the veins of beings who are viewed as ephemeral; their lifespans markedly brief when measured against the ageless creatures of blue or green blood that inhabit the world. Rotblut is thus perceived as a harbinger of death, a sign of an innate 'sickness' or impermanence. Creatures with Rotblut, or those who become contaminated by it, are pitied and seen as afflicted, for the red essence marks them for a destiny bound by the inexorable decay of their short time.

Noctavia woke up alone on the bed. The gentle rocking motion of the nest was a stark contrast to the room's stillness. She searched for any sign of Yeso or the usual morning breakfast. Still, she found neither, a pang of disappointment settling within her.

Sitting up became an ever-increasing challenge, her body adapting slowly to the monumental changes. Her belly, now immense, seemed as if it bore the weight of the nine moons, its heft rivalling the dwarf's steadfast mountains of Skoe Scana.

Inhaling deeply, gathering strength from the very air around her, Noctavia gracefully jumped from the bed to the floor. Each step was slow and plump. She started to believe her child would be as huge as a double-sized pumpkin.

She made her way to the kitchen. Upon entering, she heard the clink of porcelain and the soft swish of water and saw Yeso's godmother immersed in the simple task of washing dishes.

The faerie, known to Noctavia simply as "godmama," was indeed a very old fairy, embodying the unique faerie trait of ageing in reverse. Thus, to Noctavia's eyes, she appeared as a child, small and sprightly, standing on a stool to reach the sink.

Despite her youthful appearance, her gaze held the depth and wisdom of many lifetimes, her smile warm and knowing, slightly out of place on her otherwise jovial, childlike face.

"Oh, I see you woke up," the godmother said, her voice tinged with a mirth that seemed to fill the room. "I made some fresh pie," she added, nodding towards the table with a playful tilt of her chin.

Noctavia's eyes were immediately drawn to the pie covered with a cloth on the table. She approached and carefully lifted the cloth, curiosity piqued about the contents. The sweet aroma of apples wafted up to greet her.

"Don't worry, it's apples! Not mushrooms," the godmother chuckled, referencing Noctavia's recent adventure with star mushrooms. "Yeso told me about it the other day."

"Oh, it's my fault. I should have known better," Noctavia responded, a hint of sheepishness in her voice.

"Eat up before he comes back. You know how he is with apple pie," the fairy warned playfully.

"Where did he go?" Noctavia asked while slicing a piece of the pie.

"We have two faeries about to sprout, so he's helping set things up," the godmother explained, turning back to the dishes with a smile. "We're going to have a welcome party."

"Oh, that sounds nice," Noctavia replied, sitting down at the table to enjoy the pie. The godmother added, "I made some tea for you as well. And soon, we'll be having a party for you and your little one."

"You think I'm almost due?" Noctavia asked, her mouth full of the delicious apple pie.

"I hope so. Otherwise, you'll be rolling!" the godmother joked, her laughter light-filled with joy resonating in the cosy kitchen. The room, brimming with the scents of home-baked pie and freshly brewed tea, felt like a sanctuary, a place where worries seemed to melt away, even if just for a moment.

Godmama jumped off the stool with the grace unique to her kind, her moth wings fluttering lightly. She sat beside Noctavia, who still found the faerie's presence somewhat intimidating despite her diminutive and whimsical appearance.

Without warning, Godmama placed her tiny hands on Noctavia's belly, rubbing it gently. "This one is special, very special. And very smart," she murmured with a sense of awe.

"You can feel him?"

"When you've seen as much as I have, you tend to see more," Godmama replied cryptically. "But I like this one. I like him very much. He will be a good Menschen, like his father. A very good man." She then looked at Noctavia, a playful glint in her eye. "I'm sorry, child, the only thing he will inherit from you is shortness. This boy will be short, as short as me!"

Noctavia was torn between laughter and mild offence, still processing the remark when the door swung open. Yeso entered, his appearance startling — almost naked, save for his wet trench trousers, dripping water onto the floor.

"You're wetting my floor!" Godmama exclaimed, half-scolding, half-amused.

"Oh," Yeso looked around, somewhat sheepishly. "I came to wake Noctavia."

"Poor creature had to jump out of bed and was starving! Is this how I taught you to take care of your woman!" Godmama chided him. "I'm very disappointed! Do better!" She continued, winking an eye at Noctavia.

"I... I was helping outside, and they asked me to try..." Yeso stammered, struggling to explain.

"She was famished! A pregnant woman shouldn't have to jump from bed like this! I taught you better," Godmama said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "What a disappointment!"

Yeso's face flushed a mix of blue and red, a clear sign of his embarrassment. "I'm sorry... my love," he said, looking at her devouring the pie. "What's that?"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Pie," Noctavia answered simply, her mouth still full.

"What kind?"

"Not mushroom," Noctavia replied, her voice muffled by the delicious pie and holding her chuckles.

Yeso approached the table and sniffed the pie, his expression changing to one of confusion. "You said there was none left!"

"I did no such thing," Godmama retorted.

"Yes, you did, I asked you!" Yeso insisted, his confusion evident. "Is there any apple pie, and you said, no, you eat it all. And here!" He pointed to the plate. "Here it is! Apple pie!"

"Do you remember me telling him that?" Godmama asked, turning to Noctavia with an amused expression.

Noctavia, her mouth still full, offered the last bite of her slice to Yeso, a silent gesture that spoke volumes. "I don't need to hear it; if he can smell it, he will ask for it."

Later that day, as Noctavia approached the gathering, she observed everyone surrounding two flowers, which looked like green cocoons, heavy enough to have fallen to the ground. The assembly was diverse: faeries were in abundance, but there were also faes, a handful of humans, and elves.

Faewood thrived with a unique community spirit, where it seemed everyone knew each other, and a sense of collective care and responsibility permeated the air. This communal harmony left Noctavia intrigued, as she had yet to decipher the dynamics of power within Faewood if such existed at all.

Amidst the crowd, her eyes found Claramae, a familiar face she hadn't seen since leaving the settlement. Claramae was notable among the faeries of Faewood, one of the few who ventured beyond the woods to acquire resources not found or producible within their realm.

Noctavia remembered hearing about her expeditions to gather items such as gasoline and gunpowder, used for fireworks, among other things, along with various other human inventions quaintly referred to as such by the inhabitants of Faewood.

Claramae's role was crucial, bridging the gap between the faerie world of Faewood and the outside human world.

Noctavia watched as the cocoon began to stir and deform, suggesting a struggle within. It appeared as if someone, or something, was trying to forge a path out, a process that seemed painstakingly slow and laborious.

Her instincts urged her to intervene to assist these seemingly trapped beings, her heart aching at the thought of their suffocation within the floral prisons.

However, as her thoughts and doubts swirled, Yeso enveloped her in the shelter of his wings. This embrace, while immensely comforting, also served as a silent message: a reminder to observe and not interfere.

The wait seemed interminable until, finally, a hand breached the surface of the cocoon, breaking through in a slow, deliberate motion. This was followed, after what felt like another eternity, by the appearance of a foot.

The emergence of the new fairy was a momentous occasion. She appeared as a wrinkled, elderly lady, her body slick with the green resin of the flower cocoon. As she struggled to rise, two faeries swiftly came to her aid, draping her with a mantle and assisting her to stand.

Their whispered exchanges culminated in one of them announcing the fairy's new name, "Magdalene, or from now on, Maddy!" The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, celebrating the birth of a new being in their community.

However, Noctavia's attention was quickly drawn to the other cocoon. Something about it seemed amiss. A red liquid, starkly different from the green of the first cocoon, was seeping from its initial tear. And there was no doubt it was red blood, human blood. This unusual sign caught her eye, and she nudged Yeso, pointing it out to him. "Is that normal?" she asked.

Upon seeing it, Yeso's eyes widened in alarm. "No," he uttered.

Acting on her instincts, Noctavia called for the Howling Night. "Howl!" she exclaimed, and in response to her summon, time itself seemed to halt.

The faeries, elves, and other beings of Faewood froze, captured in a moment of stillness.

Howl materialized from the shadows, the mysterious white mouse still accompanying him, its origins and nature unknown to both Noctavia and Yeso. But none of them had time to delve into it.

"I don't know if we shall intervene," Yeso questioned.

"What if we don't? She might die," Noctavia countered.

"Not all faeries survive, and if something is wrong with her, they will eat her!" Yeso explained, revealing a harsher reality of faerie custom.

"I thought it was only when they were hungry," Noctavia replied, slightly taken aback.

"Let me think... We'll need to remove her from the flower, clean it, and put her back... but if something is wrong with her, we leave her there!" Yeso proposed, albeit reluctantly.

"Sounds like a plan..." Noctavia agreed, though her tone betrayed her indecision.

Yeso approached the cocoon and began to peel it open carefully. The faerie inside trembled, seemingly gasping for air. Noctavia noticed that she was bleeding from her nails, likely injured in her frantic attempt to escape the petal enclosure. It was her blood they saw. Her red blood.

Gently, Noctavia cleaned the faerie's wounds with her skirt, then peered inside the flower. "All is clean here," she announced.

Turning to Yeso for guidance, Noctavia was startled when the faerie's wrinkled hands suddenly grasped her face. "Eura! You're here! Such a good girl, I made you apple pie, you'll love it! It's your favourite! But don't tell Maddy anything, or she'll say I spoil you," the faerie babbled, recognizing Noctavia as someone else.

Confusion etched on her face, she looked to Yeso for an explanation. This was unprecedented; the faeries shouldn't have been able to move under her Chronostasis, yet here one was, interacting with her.

"What the...?" she uttered, bewildered.

Yeso, equally shocked, could only stutter, "What do..."

Together, they carefully helped the faerie back into the flower, arranging the petals to close it around her. The faerie continued to move and speak, oblivious to the unusual circumstances. She spoke the names of Orlo, Zora, Eura, Esra and Jaja and wouldn’t stop muttering more names and facts.

Having done what they could, Noctavia and Yeso hurried back to their positions. With a final nod from Noctavia, time resumed its normal flow, the frozen tableau of faeries, elves, and other beings springing back to life, unaware of the brief pause that had just occurred.

The faerie emerged from the flower as if the earlier incident had never occurred. The gathered crowd erupted into cheers, celebrating her birth with joyous exclamations.

Perplexed by the recent events, Noctavia turned to Howl, seeking answers to the flurry of questions swirling in her mind. "What just happened?" she asked.

However, Howl simply melted back into the shadows, leaving her questions unanswered.

Noctavia was left standing amidst the celebratory crowd, her mind racing with thoughts. The anomaly of the faerie moving under her Chronostasis, the unexpected recognition of Eura—all these elements wove a tapestry of mystery that Noctavia couldn't yet unravel. She glanced at Yeso, hoping for some semblance of understanding, but it was clear that they were both left in the dark.

Something was brewing, something that they couldn't understand yet. Something big.

> "Those familiar with my writings will know that the first decade of my life was spent in Faewood, among faeries. It was a time of wonder that shaped my understanding of their world and others. Yet, upon leaving my childhood hometown, I was struck by how starkly different their reality was from other creatures. Faeries, as I've already explained, are born from flowers, nurtured by the energy of ley lines. What seems extraordinary to us is merely the fabric of their everyday life. It was my normal, too. However, the passing of Maddie marked a profound moment of realization. In Faewood, her demise was not just a loss; it was a rupture in the natural order we all knew. To witness the light of a faerie extinguish was akin to seeing a leaf fall and crumble, not returning its essence to the earth, a cycle broken. Me leaving Faewood started with the faeries not wanting to return her to the ground with fear of contamination. And I was there, a kid watching his bestfriend die, leaving behind no trace, only a seed, which was refused to be planted in the Ortfeen. I hated them all. Even after all these Summers, a question haunts my thoughts – how did a faerie, a being connected to the ley lines, become infected with Red Blood? It's a mystery that lingers, blurring the lines between the ordinary and the exceptional. A sign that what was once extraordinary is morphing into our new normal? As I pen these words, Maddie is okay, feeding from the Sun itself." ——The Hexe - Book One by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, Special Edition, 555th Summer