> Ortmarluft

>

> Noun

>

> Translation: Sky Realm / Airborne Kingdom

>

> Definition: "Ortmarluft" refers to sea creature, the most common the blue whale, swimming in the skies, possibly a floating kingdom. These creatures can only be fund in the realm of Dreams or Nightmares.

A loud bang shattered the dream world, abruptly pulling Orlo and Maggie back to their reality.

As the sudden interruption flared, Orlo's acute senses immediately came into play, dissecting the situation with critical detail like a screen of information rolling in front of his eyes at high speed.

He could pick the subtle vibrations of the earth underfoot – not the arbitrary trembling of natural ground movement, but a rhythmic, pulsating pattern. It was distinct, consistent with the impact of horse hooves beating against the soil, suggesting the presence of mounted creatures nearby.

Simultaneously, his nose picked up the unmistakable scent of burned gunpowder – a sharp, acrid smell. This odour was characteristic of human weaponry, specifically firearms. The combination of these inputs – the rhythmic vibrations of horse hooves and the chemical scent of gunpowder – led Orlo to a swift conclusion: humans, likely hunters.

This clearly violated Faewood's protocol with humans; there was supposed to be no hunting in their territory.

"What was that?" Maggie asked, alarmed. She tried to run past him to see what had happened, but Orlo quickly held her by the arm and pushed her behind him, instinctively taking a protective stance. His mind raced, trying to assess the situation and ensure Maggie's safety.

"Don't move," Orlo instructed firmly.

"But..."

"Don't make any noise!" Orlo cut her off again. He needed to focus.

"Why?" Maggie whispered.

Placing a finger to his lips, demanding absolute silence, Orlo crouched down and began to move stealthily through the bushes and leaves. As he navigated the underbrush, his mind started again to scrutinize any piece of information it could gather.

The distinct scent of manure, undoubtedly coming from horses, filled the air. Analyzing the intensity and spread of the odour, Orlo concluded that there were five horses nearby. If there were five horses, it logically meant there were likely five humans.

The echo of a distinct sound of a metal magazine being loaded resonated, a clear indication that the bang Orlo had heard earlier was not the first shot. This realization prompted a troubling thought – had they already shot at someone?

Stealthily, Orlo continued his careful approach until he finally got a view of his godmama's house. To his dismay, he saw a group of faeries gathered together, their hands and wings bound. One of the men was pointing a rifle at them, while another was aggressively herding them into a cage mounted on a cart.

Orlo noted that there were only two men visible, yet he had deduced the presence of five horses. This discrepancy in numbers suggested that there were more individuals involved, likely lurking nearby or perhaps inside the house. The situation was dire, and Orlo knew he had to act quickly and carefully to avoid further endangerment to the faeries and to himself.

"Orlo?" Maggie whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Shh, don't make a noise! We could get caught," Orlo whispered back, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any other signs of danger.

"But Orlo, I think we are..." Maggie started to say, but Orlo quickly interrupted.

"Shhh!" he insisted, his finger to his lips again.

But it was too late. A sudden click, the unmistakable sound of a gun being unholstered, cut through the quiet of the forest, confirming Maggie's warning. They had been caught.

"Come on, you two, stand up, slow and nicely!" ordered the human. "Slow and nicely!"

Orlo cautiously tried to get a better look at the man by the corner of his eyes. The individual was holding a firearm—a rifle—pointed directly at their heads.

He observed with some difficulty the man's clothing – high-waisted corsair balloon trousers and a shirt emblazoned with a distinctive crest—an octopus embracing a ship, a symbol not typically associated with mere mercenaries but with pirates.

Orlo scrutinised the man's boots, noting the wear and the stains of dirt on his rosette-decorated boots. These details showed that he had spent enough time on land to gather such marks. This could indicate they had been hired to hunt specifically faeries, and their time was running out since they went full in guns blazing. Ignoring the laws that should protect Faewood.

They were bold enough to navigate the frozen Red Sea, choosing not to use any other transportation forms, or there could be none besides boats, indicating a probable origin from Ormgrund. Yet, they were humans, not natives, which led him to another hypothesis: they were mercenaries hired from there.

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

This implied that they had likely made several trips. Back and forth between the isolated land of the Winterqueen and the Great Continent, acting on orders from their patron.

Nonetheless, Orlo and Maggie obeyed him, slowly standing up with their hands in the air, showing compliance.

"Now walk! Let's join the others," the man said, poking Orlo's back with the gun.

As they walked toward the gathering, Orlo's gaze met Grandmama's eyes. It was then that two other men arrived, escorting more faeries who also had their hands raised in surrender.

"Where's Buck?" one of the new arrivals asked, pushing another faerie inside the cage.

"I thought he was here," the first man responded.

Orlo's mind was already racing, processing every detail. The mention of 'Buck' and the confusion among the captors hinted at a disorganisation in their ranks. This observation might provide an opening, a weakness to be exploited. This humans had no clue what they were doing.

The conversation was abruptly interrupted by another bang, causing a stir among the captured faeries. "What the hell is he doing? Is he killing them?" one of the men yelled.

"Maybe we should check; he might have had too many shrooms." the other said with an eyebrow raised, "The fucking place is full of that shit."

Amidst the chaos, Maggie leaned closer to Orlo, her voice barely a whisper. "If we can go to the world of dreams, can the dreams come to us?" she asked.

In any other situation, Orlo might have laughed off such a suggestion, responding with a light-hearted comment, ignoring it simply. But now, the stakes were high, and Maggie's question held a certain weight. He had never attempted to bring elements of the dream world into reality, and he wasn't sure how feasible it was.

The idea of summoning flying whales seemed far-fetched and impractical in their current predicament.

Yet, as he pondered, he realised the potential of tapping into the vast array of creatures from the Great Continent. After all, every creature known had to sleep at some point.

The challenge, however, was deciding what dream creature could be summoned to aid in this dire situation. Who or what from the realm of dreams could possibly help them now? He mentally made a list with all the possibilities, seeking an entity from the dream that could turn the tide in their favour.

"Hum... Mister? Mister!" Orlo called out, trying to get the attention of one of the men.

"Are you kidding me, kid?" one of the men approached him with a cynical chuckle. "Don't you see what is going on here?"

"Oh no, I do realise, but I was just wondering. It's a quick question; I'm just really curious," Orlo replied, trying to maintain a calm demeanour, "You know how it goes, teenagers, am I right?"

"You're going to ask where the faeries go?" the man asked a hint of mockery in his voice.

"No," Orlo replied.

"What will happen to them?" the man prodded further.

"No," Orlo repeated.

"What will happen to you?" the man continued, seemingly trying to anticipate Orlo's line of questioning.

"No," Orlo said again, his response consistent.

"Then what is it?" the man finally asked.

"From all the creatures in the world, past, present or even future, if you have that sort of imagination, which one are you most scared of?" Orlo asked, taking the human aback. The kid was serious.

What was the catch?

"What is wrong with you, kid? Why would you ask that? You do realise we could kill everyone right now," the man replied.

"Trolls? Cyclops? Gryphons?" Orlo suggested, trying to probe.

The man lowered his firearm, looking at Orlo with the most puzzled expression imaginable. "You must be the weirdest kid I've ever met," he said, clearly thrown off by Orlo's line of questioning.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Sir," Orlo responded, undeterred. "So, maybe Cyclops? Dragons? Ludworms?" he persisted.

"Centaurs! Fucking Centaurs, good thing these bastards are gone for good," one of the mercenaries muttered, chiming into the conversation. “Drowned with fucking Moonbay!”

"That's an excellent choice. I don't know how they slipped out of my mind!" Orlo said, relieved, with a smile brightening his face. "You would think that someone like me would always consider these little details, but there are days I even forget to wear my socks! Thankfully, I have Godmama to remind me of the small things." Orlo continued, babbling as much as he could, "Do you imagine walking around in this cold without socks? Must really suck! Got it? No socks suck."

While speaking, he slowly leaned sideways to touch the ground, his movement subtle while continuously talking without worrying about making much sense.

Then, with an abrupt gesture as if he were turning the page of a colossal, invisible book, Orlo let his magic continue the talk. From this newly opened portal, a group of enraged Centaurs suddenly charged forth. Armed with spears and arrows, ready for battle, emerged from the portal with the force of a tsunami that seemed to defy the very laws of reality like the first day of the long Night.

The appearance of the Centaurs was like a scene from a dream plunged into reality. They emerged en masse, a formidable crowd that seemed to materialise out of thin air. Their hooves pounded against the ground with thunderous strength, causing the earth itself to tremble under their steps.

As they stormed into the scene, the Centaurs attacked every human in sight with a wild, unbridled ferocity. Their spears and arrows flew through the air, finding their marks with deadly precision. Amidst their charge, they stumbled over the mercenaries. One was caught unawares and impaled by a Centaur's spear, while another was simply crushed beneath the powerful onslaught.

The fairies, amidst the chaos, scattered, seizing the moment to escape the conflict. The battle between the Centaurs and the mercenaries was rapid and tumultuous, engulfing the area in a whirlwind of violence in the blink of an eye.

As quickly as they had appeared, the Centaurs vanished, disappearing just as abruptly as they had arrived. The forest was left in stunned silence, broken only by the sound of a single gunshot echoing through the trees before quiet settled once again.

"Maggie?"

> In my writings, it is not the first time that I delved into the subject of maritime expeditions across the Red Sea, a realm dominated by the Merefolks. Despite the limited knowledge of this domain, many brave creatures, particularly humans, have dared to construct ships and navigate through these treacherous waters. However, every beautiful garden has its weeds, and the Red Sea was no exception, plagued by the presence of pirates. Among the various marauding factions, the most notorious were those sailing with the Meedomar sigil, distinguished by an octopus entwined around a ship. I learned, many summers ago while still drafting this book, that these pirates were actually mercenaries hired by the Capitol, especially active during the long Night. With the onset of Summer, their operations became riskier, as it became difficult for them to elude the vigilant Merefolks who enforced their laws strictly. Contrary to popular belief, mermaids were far less gentle and forgiving than one might expect. ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer