‘We don’t have time,’ Kage said, already turning, already walking. ‘We need to move.’
He paid no mind to the bodies left behind, instead whistling low for Ghost and Spirox, who moved to his side like shadows.
Arden followed, irritation a storm behind his eyes. ‘I would’ve been fast,’ he snapped. ‘I’m a Black Lotus.’
Kage paused just long enough to glance back, his expression unreadable.
‘And I,’ he said, ‘am a wyverian prince. Now move.’
I was recently taught the old Fae saying, one they chant on the eve of war.
We are Fae. We are ancient. We are legion.
Tabitha Wysteria
Vera halted at the threshold of the Forest of Endless Trees, her focus fixed upon the twin columns that marked the gateway to the city of Floridia. They stood like sentinels. Two towering trunks, ancient and bare, stripped of leaves and branches, their bark etched with sigils that pulsed faintly with dormant magic. She ran her tongue slowly over her lips, savouring the quiet thrum of power embedded within the wood.
The journey through drakonian lands had been long, deliberately so. She had refused to let her witches squander their power on swifter travel. No. She relished this measured advance, this deliberate march through foreign soil. It was a statement, and her smile, ever unfaltering, promised what was yet to come.
Casting a glance over her shoulder, she beheld the sight of her followers, witches and warlocks alike, an army cloaked in menace, their faces aglow with anticipation. A slow, wickedgrin curled her lips. Chaos followed at her heels like a shadow.
She stepped forward, her black, timeworn leather boot crossing the invisible threshold, piercing the Fae enchantment that cloaked the city. It was no portal. Rather, this was illusion magic of the highest calibre, an enchantment so precise it veiled the entire city from sight. Typical of the Fae. A magic of concealment so sophisticated it stirred envy, for witches could not replicate such sorcery. The best they could muster were glamours to veil themselves, but never entire cities.
The instant Vera stepped through the illusion and beheld the towering trees beyond, she knew some arcane alarm had been triggered, an ancient ward woven to detect any who stepped foot here without Fae blood. She did not mind. Let them come. She rather hoped they would. After all, she had every intention of speaking with the king.
She waited with a patient sort of arrogance, glancing down at her fingernails, tapping the toe of her boot against the moss-carpeted earth. It didn’t take long. The guards arrived in a flurry of subtle movement, and Vera couldn’t help but admire them. Fae were always so infuriatingly beautiful with their garments sewn from leaves and woven bark, eyes gleaming with the hues of forest canopies, skin shaded in earthy tones from twilight bronze to deepest ebony. And their hair…gods, always a marvel which cascaded in hues of white, copper, chestnut, and flame.
‘I’ve come to speak with your king,’ she declared, her voice a melody laced with command.
Two guards exchanged glances and gestured for her to follow. She inclined her head slightly and signalled to two of her own to accompany her. The rest would remain behind. She offered her army a final, knowing glance. They understood what needed to be done.
As they proceeded, Vera noted how many Fae lingered in theshadows, eyes locked warily on the witches and warlocks now poised at the forest’s edge. Poor, unfortunate things. They had no idea what was coming.
At last, they reached a cluster of wooden lifts nestled amongst the trees. Vera's lips curved into a delighted smirk as she was separated from her companions and ushered into her own lift, flanked by towering guards on either side. She tilted her head to study them, one brow arched with mischief.
‘Careful now, boys,’ she purred. ‘You might tempt me to stay.’
She did not miss the way one of them swallowed, hard.
The city of Floridia was a marvel unlike any other in the Eight Kingdoms. Its trees rose like living citadels, their trunks as broad as castle towers, their canopies stretching towards the heavens. Great branches, thick as stone archways, bore entire buildings upon their backs, woven seamlessly into bark and leaf. Bridges—graceful, suspended walkways of Fae craftsmanship—linked the trees in a sprawling, intricate web, forming a city that soared rather than sprawled.
At its heart stood the grandest tree of all, a towering monolith of ancient wood, reserved solely for the royal bloodline. As Vera crossed the bridge leading to it, more and more guards emerged from the shadows, their footsteps soft but deliberate. She cast a casual glance over the side, observing the dizzying drop. The bridge, despite its elegance, held fast. Immovable and firm underfoot, reinforced by the unwavering magic of the Fae. Even if one were to fall, the enchantments laced into the forest would ensure a gentle descent.
How terribly dull.
They passed into a hallway adorned with delicately curved wooden arches and open terraces that invited the wind and wild in. There were no panes to shield the rooms, birds fluttered inand out, perching on carved ledges, filling the air with gentle song. Vines crept lovingly up the pillars, twining through cracks and seams, their emerald tendrils reclaiming the structure in soft defiance.
Vera was brought to a halt before a pair of elegantly carved wooden doors. As she waited, a rabbit bounded towards her, its nose twitching inquisitively. Clearly, the poor creature had never left Fae lands, where all beasts were treated as sacred and safe.
With a sneer, Vera kicked it aside.
The doors opened with a whisper, revealing a grand dining chamber awash in sunlight. The windows stretched wide and high, letting in golden rays that kissed every surface. Yet despite the light, Vera found the space insufferably monotonous. Wood upon wood, an ode to bark and branch. Plants filled every corner, birds flitted overhead, and small woodland creatures scurried underfoot.
At the great oak table’s head sat King Florian, a furrow of concern etched into his brow. A half-eaten meal lay before him—goblet untouched, plate abandoned in haste. Vera barely spared the guards a glance as she strode into the chamber and claimed the seat by the main doors, settling with the ease of one entirely at home where she ought not be. Her fingers laced over her stomach, and behind her, the witch and warlock stood in silence, her own shadows made flesh.
‘I believe we have not been introduced,’ said the king, his body taut with tension the instant the doors had opened, though he quickly leaned back into his chair, adopting an air of studied ease. His vividly coloured eyes betrayed more than his calm voice allowed. An undercurrent of fear, perhaps, or caution. Vera noticed it, and her lips curved into an indulgent smile.
‘No, we haven’t,’ she replied sweetly. ‘But you did meet mysister, months ago.’
