NOVEMBER 4, 2032

ZOUK, CLARKE QUAY, SINGAPORE

The music was pounding and Aoife could feel the vibrations in her wings, which was a delicious, if somewhat naughty, vibe. The music reeked of a dying world, the desperation for hope, for some future.

The DJ nodded as she went by, and she could hear and then feel the presence of her kin as they fluttered in and out.

Nobody batted an eye at her gold colored skin or the blue butterfly wings. Or the sparkly crystal lines tracing patterns from one temple down her jaw to plunge deep down her cleavage to re-emerge winding down one leg. Someone pressed a tab in her hand and copped a feel - Aoife let it slide since the woman was quite attractive, for a human. She popped the pill, and it started to dissolve on her tongue. Who knew what it was, but the intention of the intoxication was enough; even if human’s paltry narcotics couldn’t do anything for her.

She decided that was ungrateful and circled back to behind the woman, running her hands up her sides and over her breasts. The woman turned around and looked pleased, and they kissed, long and deep. And that was the true high for Aoife as she took a small piece, barely a taste, of the woman’s soul.

A strict, religious upbringing, the taste of a mother’s heavy hand slapping her over and over, a father whose eyes were perhaps a bit too wandering over her prepubescent body — even if nothing ever did happen. And then puberty and the strange shameful urges towards her female classmates. Urges held in check until one night when she was sixteen and her best friend turned into more. The shame and sorrow and guilt the next day when her friend shut her out.

The woman’s life rolled over her, and she felt it all for a brief moment.

The music changed again and Aoife felt it, she reached out and stepped. Stepped back from the future; into the past.

EARLY 1990’S

THE WAREHOUSE PROJECT, MANCHESTER, UNITED KINGDOM

The music here was much more to her liking — full of that missing optimism, pointless in its execution because this time had the luxury of it — even if the club hadn’t filled up yet. Aoife thought about going to later in the evening, but she decided to stay for a bit.

She let herself disippate, just a little bit. Small glowing lights emerged, little bits of essence she used to explore the room, and they eventually brought her to a corner where an older man stood. He was uncomfortable and looked out of place.

She strode over to him and without even asking kissed him. Her tongue darting into his mouth. A taste brought her a recent divorce, not knowing what to do now, and coming to an old haunting ground. Realizing time had passed you by, and that the young folks here were perhaps too young and you were at a different point in your life. A story of regrets and bewilderment. The love for his ex-wife was strong and the sad, bitter draught left Aoife giddy.

The pressure to return closer to the now was building, but even that discomfort as it became pain was exquisite. Eventually she could not stand it but she decided to still push the limits a bit more. She stepped once again…

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THE 2010S

HÏ AND USHUAÏA IBIZA, SPAIN

Aoife felt stretched as she appeared in both clubs at the same time. It was perhaps beyond her to be in two places and times at the same time, but at the same time, she could just barely manage it. The discordance of the music was perhaps too much, but she pushed even harder, and time began to move for her at different paces.

The beats matched.

Fortunately the clubs were very close together, so she could manage it.

It was fun. Especially when she found herself in Wild Corner sandwiched between who knows how many lovers in one place and eating sushi daintily with her hands at the other. Indulgent. The stories flowed over her.

One story of feeling trapped and dry until the knife came down and started cutting her into small pieces, being frozen, shipped and cut into smaller pieces by expert chefs to be consumed. And another story of someone whose dissolute life had led them to Ibiza where they had stayed far too long, searching for something to sate their hunger but only engaging in meaningless sex. A third story of a wealthy person of no purpose. Too similar to the second and emptied of delight, not even possessing a bit of ennui as spice. Another bite and she remembered being a seed in a paddy, a machine scythe slicing her stalk and shaking her loose to be brought to a warehouse and then the restaurant. Those grains of rice remembered the feeling of the seasons, and the joy in growing towards the sun.

THE PRESENT

EXCHANGE, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, United States

Aoife continued. Here the sound really caused her wings to pulse, and she unintentionally moaned a bit in ecstasy.

She eyed a handsome young human, perhaps someone with a hint of fae blood in his past, and was about to move in closer when a presence appeared in her senses.

She stepped quickly away, hoping it was coincidence but the presence was one step away from her. She sat down, there was little point in running and the night sky here was beautiful.

The figure came and sat next to her and they looked at the Earth hanging above them as they orbited it. The dust from their movements lazily drifted down.

Aoife, you have become dissolute much like the last mortals you have tasted.

Yes. I know. But I am at the end of my season, so before I fall, I thought one more taste of early summer would be nice.

And there was the other reason. One she hoped to avoid discussing. She was not in luck.

and Kothin?

If you know, why do you need me?

Oh I don’t need you little one. But we are our natures and mine is winter. Cold and implacable and bitter. You shall know it again as I will know spring. The princes of Spring and Autumn are all we have left. And Fall is disconsolate and Spring is optimistic. Both are fools living in the past when our Kings lived.

I would bet you won’t say that once you change.

A wager?

Of course not. Let silly mortals not see the path and guess at it and try and run away from their understanding.

As you are?

And that made Aoife feel a bit guilty, and that feeling, that true feeling caused the change. Her skin dulled from the golden light of summer into the reddish hues of autumn. Her iridescent blue wings changed and became the color of red maple leaves. Her expression became more severe naturally.

And now I am content. You should not hide from your time. You thought you could stay summer? Silly little fairy.

Yes, my Duke of Glaciers and the Long Cold Night.

Come, little one. We go now back to our realm to gird for Ekerri’s war again. This blink of an eye is over and he will climb the ascension path again. He will have all under his domain.

I cannot see the path where we survive.

Oberons skull lies under his left foot and Mabs under his right. Our monarchs are dead and our strength is broken. Nothing will be the same.

And that was as much answer as Aoife could expect.