“Mmm,” Dahlia sighed in delight as she diligently worked her jaw to chew the dense, gritty molasses-like maple candy Amelia had presented her with. It was early in the morning, but the two sisters seemed to care not a fig about the hour when it came to sweets.

“Which one is better?” Adeline demanded.

When Adeline and Amelia stood next to each other Dahlia could appreciate how exactly alike the two looked. They dressed in similar dresses, both wore their auburn hair in two braids, and seeing as they were twins, they looked even more alike than all the other humans already did to one another.

“I’ll give you more if you say mine was better,” Amelia tried to bribe Dahlia.

“I’ll give you more if you say that Amelia’s tasted like cow dung,” Adeline countered.

“They both taste great!” Dahlia exclaimed. Truthfully, the fairy couldn’t tell the difference between the candy the sisters offered her. They were sticky, sweet, and despite the graininess that combination meant they were fairy heaven.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have made them together,” Adeline said with a sigh of annoyance.

“It’s so much work to mix the candy though, and all of the strapping young men of town are too busy to help us in the kitchen, or took the ferry to evacuate,” Amelia lamented.

“Stupid Snarf,” the two young ladies simultaneously cursed the Hyena-man who’d put the town on high alert.

“I’m going to kill him!” Dahlia exclaimed when the twins brought up the Hyena-man. The fairy’s soft voice came out louder than normal, while daydreams of the whole town slaving away above mixing bowls to produce candy for their savior danced through Dahlia’s head. Her mouth went from dry with excitement to salivating with hunger.

“A lot of people have tried. Snarf’s been around since dad was young. Every time we beat his pack back or corner him, he escapes and comes back with a new pack.” Adeline stated gloomily.

“Why do they keep coming back?” Dahlia asked with an uncertain tone as she wondered the question herself. Not so long ago she would have simply assumed Snarf was too dumb to do anything else, but the changes to her mind since coming to Nantes had significantly expanded her ability to reason.

“The Hyena-men are determined to control this side of the river so they can cross to the other side. The next crossing is over two weeks down river, but it’s a real fortress. The magic boats don’t come to Riverwatch, but they do go from Riverguard Keep down into the more populated areas. Without a way to cross the river, the Hyena-men are trapped on this side of the Silvervein. The mountains to the north and east are full of wyverns and other strong creatures that even the Hyena-men are afraid of, so Riverwatch is the only path to expand their territory.” Amelia explained the situation, her distaste for the hyena-men obvious.

“Why don’t they just stay on this side of the river then? It seems to have lots of room,” Dahlia asked as she thought of the sprawling Bramblewood. Why did the Hyena-men need more land if they already had a lot?

“The Hyena-men are cursed by Set. They can’t be peaceful. They know only war and chaos.” Adeline answered as if by rote. A tiny thought flickered in the back of her mind—the twins had probably been taught by the dogmatic priest of Thoth too.

“Plus, the Bramblewood is full of scary old monsters worse than Snarf.” Amelia said with an over exaggerated spooky voice, that Dahlia failed to interpret correctly.

“There are? Like what?” Dahlia asked, her full attention given to Amelia.

“Well, there’s the Luring Light. At dusk a pale light dances at the edge of the village and tries to tempt children into the woods. Those who go are never seen again, and their remains are never found.” Amelia’s attempt at drama on what clearly was a story of a wisp, or maybe a ghost failed to intrigue Dahlia.

Quest received. Investigate the Luring Light.

Apparently the voice didn’t care about if Dahlia was interested or not. The fairy wondered what caused the formation of a quest. She’d been given a quest to summon Xeras, but there had been no reward. Compensation was important!

While Dahlia mused momentarily, Adeline hopped in eager to one up her sister.

“Fifty years ago, Riverwatch had a healer who tended to all the illness and injuries of the village for a pittance. When monsters from the forest killed her children in a raid, she cursed Riverwatch and the forest for failing to help her when she needed it most. Her moss-covered spirit roams the edges of the Bramblewood, eager to reach out with twisted, withering hands to drain the life from the people who didn’t help her when she needed it.” Adeline went for a more even, and less over-the-top delivery that kept Dahlia interested.

“Where can I find her? I’m a necromancer!” Dahlia bragged. A witch on a revenge spree sounded like the perfect sort of minion to capture.

“At the forests edge on the night of a full moon?” Adeline answered awkwardly, not expecting that particular response.

Quest received. Deal with the Witch of Withering Moss.

“What about the Bleeding Grove?” Amelia changed the subject, annoyed that Adeline had managed to one-up her so successfully.

“Bleeding Grove?” Dahlia repeated, eyes wide with wonder. Unless one counted sap as blood, she’d never seen a tree bleed before.

“Deep in the Bramblewood there is a grove of twisted, thorn-covered trees that weep red, bloody sap at dawn. Anyone who touches the sap is cursed to hear voices begging for forgiveness, and invisible hands clutch at their flesh and clothing, pulling them deeper into the Bleeding Grove. The only way to escape is to get all the sap off you, but they say the voices never leave you even if you cut off the limb the sap got on.” Amelia said.

“Forgiveness? Poor trees. In the Soulweald, all the trees can talk to you without needing to get anything on you. Maybe I should visit them, something bad must have happened.” Dahlia murmured.

“You might be okay,” Amelia said. “The Bleeding Grove only seems to trap humans. Elves, and even half-elves, have escaped it without being cursed to madness.”

Quest received. Find the Bleeding Grove.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Even deeper in the forest, at the darkest heart where the sunlight never touches the ground, a banshee mourns the loss of her life and love. Her voice is so perfect once you hear a hint of her song you’ll never escape, so enthralling is her tale of loss. Dad says she sings of the ancient, original forest that lay where the Bramblewood does now. Every year on the Night of Mourning, her song almost reaches the village, and we all stuff our ears with rags. Anyone who hears her song is doomed to join her in eternal sorrow.” Adeline told the last story.

“Eternal sorrow and death,” Amelia corrected.

Dahlia wiped away a tear. Banshees—true banshees at least—were frequently elves with a tale of hubris and sorrow. They were also powerful undead. Dahlia had found another perfect candidate to become a minion! Well, if the banshee wasn’t too much of a downer, at least.

Quest received. Investigate the Heart of the Bramblewood.

“Poor Banshee! That’s so sad. Why hasn’t anyone tried to make her happy?” Dahlia demanded of the twins, as if they were personally responsible for no one assisting a poor trapped woman.

“How do you help someone who kills you for getting close to them?” Amelia asked in return.

“Oh. Right,” Dahlia murmured. She wondered about the answer to that question, how indeed. If you made a Banshee happy they didn’t just turn into a happy Banshee—they ceased to exist as their connection to the material world dissipated.

“That’s a lot of quests,” Dahlia said off handedly, depressed that she’d already been forced to cross off the banshee from her list of possible minions.

“Quests? You got quests from us talking about the Bramblewood?” Adeline asked with a worried look.

“Yep! You don’t get quests when people tell you stuff?” Dahlia asked curiously. Was she special?

“No, we do. Sometimes. Quests are given by one of the gods, usually Thoth, Anubis, Horus, or Isis. There’s no way to tell which of the gods gave you a quest, it could even be Set. Quests can take you to rare knowledge, ancient artifacts, a journey of self-discovery, or your doom.” Amelia answered.

“Why do you have so many gods? In the Soulweald we only have Lady Nyxaria, but she’s a Fey, not a god.” Dahlia asked the complicated question with the innocence of a young child. Dahlia didn’t want to admit she didn’t really understand these gods the mortals fawned over. They were powerful like ArchFey, but what purpose did they serve? What rules bound them?

The twins looked at one another in consternation, uncertain how to answer the question. They were saved from having to answer the question at all by the door crashing open. Lord Graystone entered in a rush, followed by a younger human in armor that Dahlia hadn’t met yet.

“Lady Dahlia! We’ve spotted signs of Snarf’s patrols on the edge of the Bramblewood.” The silver haired old human quickly blurted out the news to gasps from his daughters.

“Is it time for me to kick his butt?” Dahlia asked a little reluctantly, her eyes sadly slipping between Lord Graystone and the twins. The sisters had slipped the sweets out of view when their father burst into the kitchen. Dahlia missed the sweets already.

“Lord Graystone, I must protest. You would trust the villages safety to the hands of…. This?” The younger man stepped up next to the old man, his respect for the others role as Lord only going so far.

“You wanna fight?” Dahlia snarled at the obnoxious human.

With a roll of his eyes, the young man dropped an upside-down pot over Dahlia. The heavy iron pot trapped the fairy in darkness. The closeness of the iron made her skin crawl, and Dahlia trembled in rage.

“We chased their kind out of Nantes centuries ago! The dictates of Horus are clear, yet you expect my men and I to trust our lives to a fairy who can’t even escape a pot?” Dahlia heard the arrogant man snarl at Lord Graystone.

“Xeras!” Dahlia called for her knight.

A cold breeze flowed through the kitchen as the vessel of the Gloamknight formed before them. The girls, who had already met Xeras, didn’t scream. The man, who had no idea about Xeras, collapsed under the withering green gaze of the knight. Xeras casually toppled the pot with a thrust of his blade. Sparks of chaos and magic filled the air when the potent magics of Gloombough touched the cold iron—and cleaved it in clean through.

Dahlia swallowed down her indignation at the method in which Xeras freed her. She had to be more specific next time, perhaps add without your sword almost touching my hair! to her command next time.

Dahlia flew up into the air and landed on her knight’s head, where she had the height advantage over the humans.

Speechless until now, Lord Graystone coughed. The twisted look of hate and rage on Dahlia’s tiny face scared the old man, and he desperately tried to intercede. The twins were dreadfully silent, fear for and of Dahlia churning their stomachs.

“I’m very sorry about that, Lady Dahlia. I will give him a firm talking to about how we treat our guests here in Riverwatch when he wakes up,” Lord Graystone said, moving slightly before the unconscious guard.

“Wake him up, Mr. Disapoofer!” Dahlia called, and the Warp Wolf jumped out of her shadow to run a rough tongue repeatedly over the fainted man’s face. Each lap of the wolf’s tongue drew the sharp canines a little closer to the man’s skin.

“Ruff!” Awake. Bite? Mr. Disapoofer quickly roused the human with the unmatched power of a rough wet tongue and the menace of sharp fangs drawing ever closer. The Warp Wolf didn’t bother to hide its grudge against the human on Dahlia’s behalf.

“No, no biting the human, this time.” Dahlia told the wolf aloud. Her attempt at appearing graceful and magnanimous was spoiled by the haughty way she said it, and the glare she leveled at the waking soldier.

“My face! My face! Her minion is eating my face!” The young man cried out in alarm. Mr. Disapoofer loomed over the soldier, large fangs on display and a very low growl in the back of his throat.

“Oh, gather your wits, Jaspar. Mr. Disapoofer wouldn’t hurt you without orders from Dahlia,” Adeline rebuffed the soldier. Deep crimson stained the young man’s face as he scrambled to his feet, at which point he saw Xeras again. With his dominating presence and fearful aura, the soldier nearly fainted away again. Jaspar looked at Graystone and the twins as if they had gone mad. Unlike him, none of the other humans in the room were exposed to Xeras’s aura.

“Wha-wha-what is that thing?” Jaspar cried out in fear.

You have gained one Glimmer point.

“I am Lady Dahlia’s knight,” Xeras answered. Each word spoken by the oathbound knight, with its strange reverberation through life and death sent shivers through all the mortals, not just Jaspar.

“I apologize! Please forgive me!” Jaspar quickly found the words, but Dahlia found them unsatisfactory. The soldier wasn’t afraid of her, only of her knight and familiar. She’d have to work on being more intimidating. How was a fairy supposed to be intimidating? Yet she craved it. She wanted the power to make people piss themselves on the floor. She wanted Jaspar to be so afraid his sanity fled, and he became an empty, slowly withering husk wandering the material world until it collapsed inward—like an empty sack.

“Good job, Xeras.” Dahlia praised her knight, and pat his hair. The idle day dream of retribution had greatly improved Dahlia’s mood.

“As… we were saying. Snarf’s forces have begun to gather. We anticipate they won’t raid until after dusk, as is their way. Hyena-men have excellent vision in the darkness, while we humans do not. In the past Snarf has always attacked at night, but perhaps he will simply rely on numbers this time. Jessa and Bennet will be returning on the next ferry at noon, let us hope they don’t attack before then.” Lord Graystone said. His attempt to reassert control over the room fell flat.

“So, we might have to fight at any time?” Adeline tried her best to help her father.

“Shall we get in our gear then, father?” Amelia, too, did what she could to help.

“Yes, girls. Equip your armor. You’ll be stationed with Zorah and the other skilled archers. Lady Dahlia, would you prefer to fight alongside Joel on the front lines, or Zorah and the girls?” Lord Graystone asked with a small glare at Jaspar.

“Lady Dahlia, I would be honored if you would consider fighting alongside my men and I,” Jaspar spoke up. His voice quavered in fear, but even worse, the dishonesty assaulted her—a painful shriek to which there was no dampening for the ears of a Fey.

“I’ll start with Adeline, Amelia, and Zorah,” Dahlia said. She could fly. It didn’t really matter where she started, did it? Snarf could eat the dumb Jaspar before Dahlia valiantly slew him.

“Thank you for your mercy, Lady Dahlia,” Jaspar squeaked out before he and Lord Graystone left the kitchen. Dahlia wondered why the human assumed she was merciful, instead of merely patient.

All three girls laughed when the door shut behind them, although each laugh held different emotions behind it.

“I hate armor,” Amelia groaned.

“If we don’t wear it dad will die of fret, and the Hyena-men arrows are barbed.” Adeline said, torn between agreement and fear.

“One more piece of candy?” Dahlia asked hopefully.