FAIRIES!
They’ve been here since the dawn of time. But they weren’t made by our gods! I know! I have PROOF! Their magic is lunacy incarnate! It spits in the face of reality and every known law of spellcasting! WHY? HOW?! And every scholar bold enough to ask, “Where do they come from? Why do they exist? WHAT ARE THEY HIDING?” ends up GONE. Disappeared!
But not THIS professor! Oh, no! They think they’re so clever, laughing through their sharp little teeth, stealing socks, turning people into newts, warping our world for their twisted little games! But I see you, FAIRIES. I SEE YOU! AND I WILL EXPOSE YOUR LIES FOR WHAT THEY—
[The handwriting here grows briefly erratic and unreadable.]
—interstitial dimension folding!
I have found it. A portal to their glittering hellscape! “Fairyland,” I call it. After years of work, I am ready. I WILL ENTER. I WILL RETURN. And when I do, the world will finally understand the TRUTH. Fairies are not whimsical spirits—they are MONSTERS, cosmic horrors cloaked in glimmering deceit! Otherworldly interlopers bent on our annihilation!
Do. Not. Trust. Them.
If I vanish, know this: it’s THEIR doing! Not the gods, not the academy board (this time)—IT’S FAIRIES!!
To account for such eventuality, I have left a copy of all my research at—
[The letter ends abruptly, with a scorch mark and faint traces of glitter on the parchment.]
–attributed to Professor D. Crocker, disgraced Head of Space Magic Development and Planar Research at Grimsvale’s Academy of Arcane Studies, found in his residence after his disappearance, circa 1112 AK.
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Remembrance 10, 2497 AK, Radiant Empire, Cleft Isles, Greyport
Darkness.
Annet floated in its cold embrace—surrounded, untethered, barely conscious. There was no sound, in the void. Only the quiet throb of her fading heartbeat. No sensations. Only the phantom weight of Flynt’s fingers against her throat.
So this is how it ends. Her thoughts dulled as her mind sank further into fathomless depths. It felt strangely… peaceful. My Light, please don’t cry.
As a child, she used to wonder—would anyone mourn her when she died? She used to feel invisible. Her own mother wished she was never born. Her sister had her own demons to fight and no space for her confused little sibling.
Now, Annet understood the true selfishness of her wish. And as a great black horse with eyes of burning gold appeared in the void, come to carry her to the hereafter on wings of shadows, all she wished for anymore was to have given a proper goodbye.
The pegasus lay beside her, silently inviting her to climb on. Annet felt its shadow mane on her fingers—at once there and not, infinitely cold, and yet comfortingly warm.
What truly lies beyond the Veil? What plans did the Gods have for her daughter? Would she be able to ask her questions, before her soul was scrubbed bare of memories and thrust back into the Cycle of Reincarnation?
Annet never got the answer to any of those questions. Before she could climb onto Death’s Emissary, the endless dark was invaded by a brilliant red spark. And over the thrum of her failing heart, she heard the tiniest voice, squeaking with outrage and fury.
“–eave Anya alone! You big meanie!”
Like an arrow, the small light pierced the darkness, banishing the psychopomp. The crushing pressure vanished from Annet’s throat, and she wheezed for breath, her back arching, her lungs desperate for the crisp morning air. The cold rush cut her insides like daggers, but nothing had ever tasted sweeter.
Coughs wracked her body, curling on her side. Her trembling fingers clutched her neck. Her head throbbed in time with her speeding heart. Annet’s entire being screamed at her as her dulled senses came alive, but she welcomed the pain with tears of joy.
For an indeterminate time, her consciousness still teetered on the edge. Then, ever slowly, the blackness slunk away, and colours bled back into the world.
Shapes wavered above her, blurry and indistinct. She recognised Flynt’s hulking silhouette—unmistakable. He was staggering away, arms flailing wildly. Something darted past him, too fast to follow—a crimson streak, no taller than Annet’s palm. It flitted through the air like a crazed hummingbird, painting glowing trails that seared her waking eyes. And always, that same high-pitched voice drilled into her skull.
“Stupid! Dumb! Birdbrain! Anchovy! You dare hurt Anya?! You dare?! Bad! Bad Human! You will pay a thousandfold! Pay! Pay! Pay!”
Flashes of red illuminated Flynt’s mangled face. Annet’s vision swam as the blur zipped around him, scratching, biting, hurling tiny objects, and unleashing sharp bolts of light that cracked like elven fireworks.
“You ugly! Why are you so ugly?! Drop dead! Corpse face! Stinky blood! Why is it so stinky?! Let me drain it for you.”
The noises, the motion, the lights—they battered Annet’s senses, compounding her headache. She tried to push herself up, to crawl away—but her limbs felt like lead: numb, stiff, impossibly heavy. The effort jabbed pain through her ribs, where she had hit the bed, and she sank back to the floor, gasping and holding her side.
Through her tears, she spotted the shrieking blur dash past. There for a blink, gone the next. But, in that instant, she saw it clearly: a silhouette of brilliant scarlet, with buzzing gossamer wings, hairs of flickering flames, massive pupilless almond eyes filled with cosmic fire, and sharp, needle-like teeth exposed in a mad, too-wide rictus.
Then the fairy was onto Flynt, biting his ear—savaging it—tearing off pieces of flesh with their sharp teeth while tiny fingers clawed at his mangled face. Blood specks rained onto Annet, and Flynt bellowed like a wounded bull. Pain, rage, and disbelief mixed in his guttural scream.
He swung, but his clumsy punch hit nothing but air. The pixie somersaulted away, laughing maniacally, before pelting him with more missiles: a shoe, a paintbrush, a handful of painted pebbles—anything not nailed down that their tiny hands could lift. Each pitch was impossibly precise, striking soft flesh and open wounds and forcing Flynt further toward the door.
“What devilry is this?!” he roared, arms shielding his face.
The answer he got was a high-pitched shriek of fury and a dozen dazzling red beams that exploded in sparkles against his arms. “You’re the devil, you stupid horned toad! Overgown frog! I’ll rip your legs off and eat them fried in breadcrumbs! Baldie! Heretic! Politician!”
With Flynt stepping away and a moment to breathe, Annet finally struggled to her knees. Dots still danced before her eyes. The darkness ebbed and flowed, stealing moments away. The stone floor seemed to pitch underneath her. Her balance lurched to the side, and bile surged up her throat.
But she could not tear her eyes away from the surreal fight wrecking her home.
At last, Flynt stumbled onto the threshold, shouting his frustration. Ragged breaths heaved from his chest. Bleeding burns pockmarked his forearms like little craters. Gore caked his mangled face, sealing one eye shut. His remaining eye spun, wild and bloodshot—until it locked shakily onto Annet, piercing her with a hate-filled glare. “Youuuu…” A rasping growl rumbled from his throat. “This is all yoooour fault!”
His hand suddenly jerked to his belt, to his scimitar, so far forgotten. “ENOUGH!!” The blade slid free with a metallic hiss. “I’ve had enough! Enough of your tricks! Enough of these… demonic machinations! I will not be denied what is mine! I will not–!”
CRACK!!
There was a flash and a deafening crack, like the world’s largest whip. Flynt’s scimitar clattered to the ground as he clutched his hand, staring in shock at the bloody stump where his index finger used to be.
“Ah-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”
“Oh? Oopsie! Did you need that?” A mad giggle mirrored his horrified wail. The fairy twirled in the air, hands pressed to their cheeks in exaggerated mock concern, only to dissolve into another fit of shrill, manic laughter. “It’s fiiiiine~! You got nine more!”
The cackling abruptly ceased. The air around the little fae sprite seemed to warp, their shadow extending unnaturally without regard for light sources, creeping along the walls, the floor and the ceiling, and converging on the door, still framing Flynt. The creature’s high-pitched voice plunged into a deep, eldritch echo, multiple voices overlapping and singing the words in a cacophony of languages, each seeming to speak directly into Annet’s brain.
“Let’s fix that.”
The shadows surged, carrying infernal shrieks that laced the air with broken glass. Waves of terror seethed with the wails of damned souls and the promise of unending torment for the wicked. Chitters in the Dark spoke of an Ancient Witness who saw the death of worlds, and their rebirth, and the endless cycle of inconsequential choices that all led to Oblivion. They whispered of the ineluctable March of Time that erodes all things, grinds even the mightiest kings to dust, and dims even the brightest stars to nothingness in the sempiternal cosmic Void.
Annet hugged her knees to her chest, shivering. Luckily, she had only caught the barest edge of the spell aimed at Flynt. Yet even this much left her paralysed with existential dread.
Flynt was not so lucky. The yawning maw of eternity bore down on him, unravelling his mind with the grotesque awareness of his own insignificance. He wasn’t among the mightiest, nor the brightest. He was small. Less than an ant. Less than a bad dream. Less than a thought already half-forgotten.
It broke him.
With a distressed wail, he turned tail and fled through the door, chased by a mass of churning, howling darkness that oozed out of Annet’s home like pus out of an infected wound and the sound of distorted high-pitched giggles that echoed distantly.
Silence settled at once in the battered home, save for Annet’s laboured breaths. She remained sitting on the cold floor, shivering as the adrenaline deserted her, swaying softly, arms hugging her knees to her chest. Carefully, she touched her throat and gripped the scale pendant there. Her daughter had called it a dragon scale—as if it were meant as a joke. But Annet believed.
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Her fingers came away bloodied and shaking.
A moment passed, then another. Slowly, cautiously, Annet’s mind started to accept she might live. A tiny, incredulous laugh bubbled up her aching throat. It was painful. It turned into a sob. Tears filled her eyes. There was still too much to process.
A sudden movement in the doorway caught Annet’s blurred peripheral sight—a shadow blotting out the morning light. Her pulse spiked. Horror stirred in her gut. Is he back?! Before she could react, heavy footsteps rushed in; strong hands grabbed her shoulders.
“Mum!”
Annet was drawn into a warm, crushing embrace. A familiar scent washed over her, smelling of home, of a burning hearth on a lonely evening, of flames casting dancing shadows across the walls and keeping the cold darkness of the night at bay. The presence pulled back a little, and a face filled her sight: wild obsidian hair tumbling over skin like polished bronze, and two precious rubies peering back into her soul with undisguised worry.
Annet’s fears melted away, and she realised everything would be alright.
Her Light was here.
Already, a warm tide surged through her body, pooling at her wounds, drowning her aches, and washing away the icy void clawing at her heart and mind. A wry smile tugged at Annet’s lips, cracking the blood crusted at their edges. What a sorry sight she must have been, for her cute mageling to forget her usual caution. One day… One day, her wonderful daughter would find the confidence to share her secrets. Until then, Annet could continue to feign ignorance.
Kaydence’s quivering fingers brushed Annet’s throat, where the marks of Flynt’s assault were already fading.
“I’ll kill him.”
The sound was more growl than human words, more promise than threat. Her Light was already getting up, turning away, taking her warmth with her—locking it away as if Kaydence herself feared to get burned. Her face was set in a mask of cold fury.
“Wait!” Annet’s feebly grasped onto her daughter’s shirt. Moving hurt. Phantom pains still flared with every gesture. But a new terror had gripped her heart. If she let go, her Firelight would disappear, gone into a night where Annet could not reach her. “Don’t go. Please,” she begged. “He’s not worth it.”
“He hurt you.”
Judgement rumbled from her words with a force equal to the summer storms that sometimes ravaged the Isles. Two rubies cracked with slits of Void stared back at Annet, cold and merciless.
The air grew colder. Reality held its breath as something ancient and primal stirred. The shadows in the room, still seething with fae magic, stretched along the floor as though drawn to Kaydence’s wrath. They crept about her, weaving sinuously into a regal cloak and grasping, supplicating hands. Spectral fingers clutched at the hem of the garment, hungry, greedy, yearning to leech away more than Kaydence could afford to give—to hollow her out, leaving only a husk, another shade to join their empty host into an infinite and unknowable Abyss deeper and darker than even the void of Death Annet had found herself in.
With just three words—three little words—Kaydence exuded a terror far beyond anything Flynt could ever muster, even at the peak of his murderous madness. She was no mere mortal—she was the predator, the storm, an incarnation of the Abyss staring back.
Tears welled in Annet’s eyes. She had never seen her daughter so visibly upset.
“This is not your burden to bear.”
“It’s hardly a burden.”
“Please.” Annet’s hand tightened on her daughter’s shirt, trying to hold her close. “I need you here. Come back to me. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t…” Her voice cracked. “I can’t be alone again.”
The dark storm in Kaydence’s eyes flickered, hesitation breaking through her rage. For a moment, she seemed torn—then the shadows began to retreat, hissing reluctantly. Kaydence’s breath shuddered with the effort of reining herself in.
Eventually, with a sigh that seemed to push out half her soul, Kaydence sat down at her mother’s side. Her hands rested limply in her lap, smeared with blood, dirt, soot—and odd streaks of glitter. She stared at them as though they held some sort of answer.
Annet scooted closer and gently cupped her daughter’s cheek, coaxing her to meet her eyes. “There you are,” she murmured lovingly, her smile soft with relief. Her thumb brushed another glittering pink smudge. “My Kaydence. My sweetheart. Where were you? I was so worried.”
“I’m sorry,” Kaydence breathed, her voice thick with guilt. She grabbed her mother’s hand, something she rarely did, and held it tightly. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here. I should have stopped it before it ever came to this.” Her beautiful ruby eyes only seemed half here in the present, the other half lost somewhere far away. Silent tears dripped down her face, cleaning trails in the grime. “I should have been there.”
“Shhh,” Annet soothed, her free hand gently smoothing the furrow in her daughter’s dark brows. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” She leaned into her, resting her head against her chest. Her baby was so much taller than her now. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
Kaydence’s reply took a conspicuous amount of time.
“If I wasn’t there–”
“No!” Annet cut her off with a frustrated slap on the shoulder. “Enough of that. If you hadn’t been there… Then what? Flynt’s obsession with me would have simply disappeared? No. It was festering regardless. I was never going to return his feelings, and Lenril was a thorn in his side long before you were even conceived. If not you, he’d have found someone else to blame for his shortcomings. I forbid you to take any responsibility for his actions. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me—for not shutting down his delusions sooner.”
She cupped Kaydence’s face again, gently but firmly making her meet her gaze. “Look at me. I’m here. I’m fine. I’m alive because of you. Without you, I would be dead. You saved me.” Annet lacked the words to express how true that was. She could only hope her eyes spoke loud enough.
But Kaydence’s guilt was a fortress not easily breached. She pulled her mother’s hand from her face, her voice stubborn. “I’m not the one who saved you.”
Annet scoffed, “Oh, so a fairy would have magically shown up to help me regardless of your involvement? I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised I was that kind of fairytale character.”
Kaydence rolled her eyes. “Mum! This is serious!” She looked almost pouty.
And just like that, the final tension broke.
Annet took that as her cue to address the whale in the bay.
“Sweetie. What happened?”
Kaydence froze mid-motion, her hand poised awkwardly, brushing off an unidentifiable smear on the remnants of her sleeve. The fabric was half-burnt, half-drenched, and fully beyond saving. Finally, she sighed and let her shoulder slump.
“Nothing,” she mumbled. But the word rang hollow juxtaposed with her appearance.
Her wild obsidian hair clung to her in a damp, tangled mess streaked with blotches of luminous pink goop. Strands ended in singed curls, others jutted out in frozen spikes, and some were matted stiff with mud. Here and there, adorable braids peeked through, woven with nettle and out-of-season wildflowers. Soot and what looked like glittering pollen smeared her bronze skin, and tiny doodles swirled and spiralled across her face and arms like tribal tattoos.
Her clothes were in tatters: torn, scorched, and splashed with every colour imaginable. A faint scent of burnt sugar clung to her. Annet also noticed scattered blood stains; thankfully, Kaydence seemed uninjured. And—Oh, dear—she was missing a boot.
Annet’s lips twitched, caught between worry and amusement. “Sweetie, ‘nothing’ doesn’t usually leave you looking like you lost a brawl with an angry rainbow.”
“I didn’t lose,” Kaydence grumbled surly.
“I can hazard a guess,” Annet said with a chuckle, pulling a cloth from her pocket. She leaned in to wipe the glittering smears off Kaydence’s face, batting away her daughter’s attempt to grab the cloth. “Stay still. Did you at least get what you were after?”
“How do you–” Kaydence cut herself off, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“You’re a clever girl. You wouldn’t go poke around a fairy nest without a good reason.” Annet frowned as the squiggles on Kaydence’s face resisted her scrubbing attempts. “Did you go all the way to that glowing pond? The one in the southeast.”
Kaydence gasped. “How do you know about the spirit spring?” The question burst out, her surprise too great to stop herself in time.
Annet thought it was just too adorable.
“Is that what it’s called?” she mused distractedly, dabbing her cloth in water. “When I was your age, I used to sneak out to the woods to play with the fairies. They took me there a couple of times... maybe more. It’s all a bit fuzzy now…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes glazing over, then she shook her head. “Anyways. It’s probably your fault for aggravating them.”
“You went to the– With the– What?!” Kaydence grabbed Annet’s hands. “That’s beyond the city wards! It’s dangerous out there, woman! There are monsters!”
“Don’t be silly.” Annet wiggled her hands loose, patted her daughter’s head, and stood up. “What could possibly be dangerous with several dozen fairies around?”
“What could–?” Kaydence spluttered, her voice rising in disbelief. “The fairies!”
Unfazed, Annet crossed the room to the wardrobe and tugged at its cracked door. It didn’t budge. “Can you help me with this, sweetheart? I think it’s jammed. You need to change out of those rags. They’re a lost cause.”
“Annet, this is serious!” Kaydence groaned but stomped over to assist, yanking the door open with a sharp tug. “Fairies are completely unpredictable! They’re dangerous! You could’ve been abducted, or– or turned into something unnatural!”
Annet waved off her concern as she rummaged through the wardrobe. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m still me. You worry too much.” She tossed a clean shirt and pants at Kaydence. “We’ll need to get you a new pair of shoes. Maybe I’ll ask Grizelda for an extra shift next week– Oh, stop glaring at me like that. Your face will get stuck.” Ignoring her daughter’s exasperated groan, she continued wistfully, “All we ever did was run around the woods and play make-believe. It was fun. Really, they’re harmless if you know what they like.”
Kaydence’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, visibly searching for a polite way to question her mother’s sanity. The sight was so funny that Annet could not help a burst of giggles, which rapidly spiralled into irrepressible laughter—probably not helping her case. Tears pricked her eyes as she clutched her sides.
“Anyaaaaaaa!”
Before Annet could catch her breath, a streak of red zipped through the open window and smacked into her chest.
“Anyaaaaaaa! I miiiiiiissed youuuuuu!” chirped a muffled, high-pitched voice.
Startled, Annet blinked down at the little winged person splayed spread-eagle over her breasts—perhaps an attempt at a full-body hug. Wide eyes swirling with crimson mist stared up at her, underlined by a gleeful grin full of sharp, needle-like teeth.
“Um… hello?” Annet managed, taken aback.
“Anya!” the fairy squealed, then tilted their head. “You don’t remember me?”
“Anya?” Annet repeated, bewildered. “Is that your name?”
“What? No!” The fairy pouted, floating up with tiny fists planted on their hips. “That’s your name! Silly Anya,” they giggled with a mid-air somersault. “Grown-up Humans are so weird. I’m Sparki!” They thumped their miniature chest with pride. “Head of her Majesty Anya’s Royal Guard!”
Before Annet could parse the rapid-fire chatter, Kaydence lunged forward, swiping at the fairy. The sprite yelped and zipped behind Annet’s head, burrowing into her bushy hair. “Rude!” Sparki huffed, their voice muffled by the curls.
Kaydence’s glare could have curdled milk. “Get away from my mother! Don’t you have a creep to torment?” Her tone dropped dangerously low. “Did you let him get away?”
Sparki peeked out, their tiny nose in the air. “Humph! I could have caught him, but I got bored. It’s fine! He won’t ever hurt Queen Anya again, not with me around!”
“What’s this nonsense?” Kaydence growled, eyeing the little fae with tensed suspicion.
“I told you, sweetheart,” Annet cut in lightly. “We used to play all kinds of make-believe in the woods.” She raised a hand to her hair, and the fairy leapt onto her palm without hesitation. Bringing Sparki down to eye level, Annet grinned at the tiny sprite. “Sparki! Of course. How could I forget?” she said warmly. “How are all the others doing?”
Sparki returned her gaze with unbridled joy, their crimson eyes figuratively and literally sparkling. “They’re all doing great! Looni’s been painting moonbeams on spiderwebs—says it’s her life’s calling now. Ponk accidentally turned himself into a mushroom again, and now we can’t find him. Trinket found a fallen star, so she traded it for a teapot, and then– Well, it’s too long to explain, but we don’t know what to do with all the doorknobs! And Sleepi’s been building a castle from thistledown and stolen dreams! But it keeps floating away whenever someone sneezes!” The sprite doubled over in laughter, a befuddled Kaydence and an amused Annet looking on.
“Well, that’s nice.” Annet smiled indulgently. “But what brings you here, Sparki? Not that I don’t enjoy the visit.”
“Why?” Sparki tilted their head as if having forgotten the reason. “Oh! OOOH!! That’s right!” Their face lit up, and they spun around before launching toward Kaydence. “Give me those eyes! Thief!”
Kaydence was ready, raising her fists in a defensive stance. But before the fairy could get close, Annet plucked them from the air with practised ease.
“No fighting in the house,” she sighed. “There’s been enough of that already. And I’m sure you have a good reason, but I’d prefer my daughter kept her eyes. Thank you.”
“No! She stole from us!” Sparki squeaked, arms crossed in indignation as they dangled from Annet’s grasp. “The debt must be paid.” The words echoed with traces of fae power.
“What if I gave you something else?”
“Annet, no!” Kaydence protested, taking a step forward, her voice sharp with worry. “You can’t bargain with the fae! You don’t know what you’re doing!”
“Shush, sweetheart.” Annet waved her off with a reassuring smile. “I’m sure Sparki is a smart and reasonable individual.”
Sparki preened under the praise and stuck out their tongue at Kaydence, who looked ready to explode. “Humph! Well… I guess... If it’s Queen Anya asking…” they said with exaggerated magnanimity.
With a soft smile, Annet set the fairy down on the shattered remains of her easel and crossed the room. She brushed aside the clay shards of a broken flowerpot at the base of the wall and retrieved a battered wooden box. From it, she pulled out a glittering golden necklace, embedded with jewels that caught the light like tiny stars.
“How about this as payment?” she asked, holding it up.
Sparki’s eyes widened to twice their size. “Shiny!” they squealed ecstatically. “Deal!”
The necklace disappeared from Annet’s hand instantly, reappearing next to Sparki, who hugged it with giddy abandon, rubbing their face against the jewels while cooing with delight.
Annet turned back to her daughter with a sly wink.
Kaydence stood frozen, her mouth opening and closing in disbelief. “You… you can’t just…”
But Annet only laughed softly and ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s clean up this mess.”
Without waiting for an answer, she picked up a broom and got to sorting the unpleasant mess in her home. Her movements were steady, still a little stiff, but before long, the faint sound of her humming joined Sparki’s innocent giggles and her daughter’s frustrated muttering.
Annet was not fine. Her smile was a little too brittle, and the shadows in her thoughts crept closer than she cared to admit. But as she glanced at her daughter, busy righting the dented wardrobe while keeping a suspicious eye on the fairy, Annet knew she would be alright.
As long as she had her family by her side, she could always piece her world back together.
* * * * *