“It’s not every day we get to see the choosing of a new Fey Ascendant.” “Hmm,” was all she said to Kruxeral. Merla tried to blink away the tiredness in her eyes as she scanned the faces in the amphitheatre, not sure if she was hoping to see something amiss or just trying to reassure herself.
“Not surprising that Twilight isn’t in the running, but I have heard Queen Miandra has taken to her new role very quickly. She’s had a lot to catch up on, yet they say she is very capable.”
“Hmm.” Was that Artemis she saw across the way? The figure flipped their hair over a shoulder and even from this distance and all resemblance to the Winter Court eladrin died. Their nose curved down too much to match Elias’ once-love.
The Archfey started arriving, stepping out of thin air into the central grassy basin and a hushed silence fell over the amphitheatre, anticipation buzzing in the air.
Queen Titania was the first to address everyone. Standing at twelve feet tall and clad in a silver breastplate over a summer dress, strawberry blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders with a sword strapped to her hip, she was accompanied by the Spirit of Summer. It looked for all intents and purposes like a miniature sun floating beside her, heat and excitement radiating from it in equal measure. She spread her arms wide and addressed all in the crowd.
“Thank you all for coming! Soon the song shall begin, and we shall here ensure that the sun rises a little higher in the Feywild today.” “Do you get to add your voice to the chorus, Princess Merla?” May asks from Kruxeral’s shoulder.
“Hmm,” Merla intoned again, not actually answering the question. She continues to look at the crowd, a restlessness distracting her from the proceedings.
“Was that a yes or a no?” the little pixie asks, confused.
Queen Morinn steps up next, her face a porcelain mask rimed with frost, white-blonde hair arranged around a crown of ever frozen icicles. Despite the warmth her shoulders are draped with mink and ice fox furs, and she drips diamonds on nets of spun silver. The spirit accompanying her is entwined around her arm in a serpent form, its scales like ice. She takes in the scene, face unreadable, though her eyes become a colder blue as they pass over the Summer Queen.
“What will be is inevitable. Let us begin.” “I think what my dear Merla meant to say was no, little May, she is not allowed,” Kruxeral clarifies, eyeing Merla with slight concern.
“Why not?” Cay asks.
“She is a princess!” An autumn and winter eladrin sitting behind their group tells them to shush. Cay sticks his tongue out even as Kruxeral gracefully apologises on their behalf.
Queen Nicnevin, a statuesque giant of a woman, steps forward. She is clad in moss green robes with cascading copper hair. The sight of an enormous hound with fur like midnight does snag Merla’s attention for a brief moment and it quickens her heartbeat. She goes back to studying the crowd as Nicnevin reaches high into the sky before sweeping into a deep ceremonial bow.
“We gather here today to renew the cycle as we have through eons past. May the radiance of the moon guide us all.” Merla spots Arkadius two rows ahead and to the right of them. The sight of her best friend makes her breathe a little easier. If anything were to happen, he would be ready to help in a heartbeat. Further down his row however Merla spots a cloaked figure. Her brow furrows.
“Though the Queen does acknowledge Merla as her daughter, and by approximation and association that does make her a Princess of sorts, Merla is still a mortal. Those that are allowed to vote are only Fey Nobility – folk who run various places, minor courts, places of power – that sort.” The Bear King walks forward next. He is a giant man, wrapped in furs with a humble forest crown on his head and carrying a clay pot of honey. A kaleidoscopic galaxy walks beside him slowly on all fours. He too bows low.
“The house of Ursa Caelur and the Twilight Court are honoured to be here today, pledging our support for Queen Nicnevin, Lady of Copper and Crystal.”“Oh…” Cay looks between Merla and May.
“Seems like a silly technicality. Princess Merla is practically a fey,” he says, gesturing to her.
“Practically is not actually, Cay,” May sing-songs.
“But maybe if all works out, she can ask to become a fey like me!”
“A small, feather-headed fey unable to tie her own vines?” Cay asks with a teasing smirk.
“I can too tie my own vines, and into quite difficult knots I might add!” May harrumphs.
Merla spots another cloaked figure seemingly appearing in their own row not several seats away as Tolven, the Duke of Decay, steps forward. He is a towering treant, bark skin a rich, dark brown so that he looks to have grown from the very ground he stands on. The Spirit of Autumn, an amalgamation of crimson leaves, fruit blossoms, and twisted branches, takes on a subtle face-like form one moment before whirling in a shifting breeze that is felt by no one else. Tolven lifts a creaking arm.
“We have come to complete the circle again, may this cycle be as good as the last one.” Kruxeral hushes the pixie and sprite’s teasing banter as the question is put to the crowd which Fey should rise Ascendant. As the music begins Merla starts to see more cloaked figures in the audience, their presence so obvious she did not know how she could not have seen them before. Her breaths come in short sharp bursts as she realises her dream is happening again. The Darkness is here. But she cannot make a sound. She is frozen inside her own body because she must be asleep. This is merely a variation on her dream. Security around the basin would have caught these dark figures if this was real, surely. That is the only reason she does not shout or scream to warn them all to protect the Spirits and attack the dark figures she sees because she is going to wake up, any moment now.
Kruxeral touches her chin, turning her face towards his. The half grin fades as the satyr sees the dazed confusion, and panicked certainty making Merla’s eyes bright. The gem over her forehead is pulsing to the gradually building soundscape around them but he knows they cannot make any sound. Instead, he tries to pull her close, to comfort her. For a moment Merla resists. The Spirits of each court have begun to resonate with the beautiful and slightly discordant music reverberating all around them as more of the Fey Nobility add their voices to the chorus. Under it all, Merla hears a string of notes that tells her the male beside her really is Kruxeral – her love, her Heartsong. She slowly relaxes. The stress of the last few weeks must really have gotten to her, making her see things that aren’t there. This isn’t the dream, this is real and there aren’t any cloaked figures here. She is just tired.
As Merla sinks into Kruxeral’s embrace, she allows herself a moment to breathe, to let go and listen to the competing themes and musical structures of the chorus continuing to vie for supremacy. She closes her eyes allowing it’s complexities to fill her up as Kruxeral kisses the top of her head. A part of her wonders if she can feel where the Song will go even before the Nobility of the Feywild work to find harmony amongst themselves.
Merla opens her eyes to look at Queen Titania and, not for the first time, marvels that such a being would call her daughter. At this moment, there is no place she would rather be in the entire universe than here, witnessing what she hopes will be her Mother’s triumph.
There is a ripple in the air and Merla turns to look. From the shadows rises cloaked figures and though the Daughter of Summer did not see whose faces they wore, it was so much like – and yet not like – her dream that for a moment Merla’s mind made her see the faces of her friends and allies, the ones she loves – BB, Varis, Ghesh, Baine, Taffeta, Elias…
Then arrows started flying and on a storm’s wind they rushed through the assembly to strike the grassy basin below. The ground began to shake. Shadow and smoke seeped from the arrows as they melted, blackening the knoll. The steady hum of the Chorus began to waver.
Rising from the earth is a great stag crowned with antlers that branch out, forming a mighty tree. One of the dark arrows pierces its heart and Merla watches in growing horror as the leaves and branches begin to wilt and die. Suddenly, a wall of darkness surrounds it, and any notes that could have been heard are dispelled by the roar of a rushing wind.
And just like that, Merla’s frozen mind rapidly thaws and she is springing into action, calling Astra to her side.
“Get what Folk you can to safety,” she tells Kruxeral, her voice commanding.
“May, Cay, assist where you can, but do not engage with the Unseelie. There are plenty of Dawnlanders here to help.” “Merla, wait!” Kruxeral grabs her hand as she is about to leap down to Arkadius’ side. When she turns he feels a wave of heat come off her as Merla’s eyes find him.
“Please, be safe.” She smiles.
“And you, arael’salif*
.” She kisses him passionately and then she is gone, sword humming with song as Merla heads down towards the darkness below.
*arael’salif – Heartsong (said to someone you love)
“Apologies, Ladies, it seems my sister has decided to make an appearance.” The voice of her Queen Mother cuts through the tumultuous winds. Titania’s words are spoken with exact calm. She stands tall and defiant amongst the chaos, the shadows and wind billowing around Merla as she tries to fight to her Mother’s side.
But she does not get that far.
The Great Stag Spirit has begun to wither away. Merla is standing with her back to Arkadius when she spots Taffeta to her left, firing radiant bolts from the crossbow gifted to her by Queen Titania for defeating Ulorian. An owl swoops down to claw at a dark hooded figure just as Astra bats them with her hooves and the odd elf male Ruk comes leaping down. Merla hears some snide remarks and recognises Jaezred, Igrainne’s cousin.
She is about to say something to Arkadius when a dark arrow flies past their heads. It hits its mark – the serpent made of ice wrapped around the Snow Queen’s arm.
“I had hoped it would not come to this.” Queen Morrinn seizes a small vial of melt water from around her neck and smashes it over the head of the serpent, much to Merla’s surprise. A cloud of freezing fog erupts outwards, engulfing her and the others. Then the familiar sensation of a magical hook grips her naval and pulls Merla sideways through time and space.
“Astra?!”
“I am here, Merla!” They land. Merla has to widen her stance to stay steady. The cold of the fog recedes but it doesn’t get much warmer than a few degrees. Quickly glancing around, she sees Arkadius, Ruk, Taffeta and Jaezred, along with Astra and Ruk’s owl familiar, have been teleported into a cave of ice.
“Where are we?” Astra asks her.
“I think…” What appears to be a gemstone or a seed of a great tree the size of an eladrin’s fist, draws their attention with it’s blue-white light. It is connected to three other points in the room by glowing threads, but they are flecked with spots of black. Following the thread closest to her, Merla sees, at the other end, the stone is beginning to get overrun with smudges of swirling black, grey and brown, which is only faintly odd considering they move over and across a great white pelt. The two other points have what appear to be a carving made of ice shaped like a warrior and a heart of some enormous creature.
It falls into place when Merla sees that last one where they are.
“We are in the Heart of Winter.” Water drips down the ice walls as Morrinn, standing in the centre of this melting chamber, turns to speak to them. There is already a substantial amount of meltwater puddled at her feet despite the temperature.
“I must cleanse the Heart of the Glacier. I will need your help.” Merla swears she sees the Snow Queen’s eyes flick down to her before focusing on the others.
“The three Soul Stones – they must be purged too, for they feed the Heart. They will resist you. Above all, do not let them interfere with what I do.” Then the Queen of Ice and Snow turns her full attention to the Heart of her realm and thrusts her hands into it, closing her eyes to concentrate on what must be done.
Darkness begins to coalesce around the three objects as Merla and the others all stand there, frozen in the moment before action. From the one comes forth a mighty dragon the size that could match Kanorax’s Ancient Bronze form. What steps out from the statue is what Merla could only surmise was once a Frost Giant, but now, instead of flesh, his skin is composed of hard packed snow. Behind her, Merla hears a growl tear forth from a deep throat and turns, seeing the hunched and ready-to-pounce form of a giant Winter Wolf.
“Merla!”
Taffeta’s voice rings clear and true through the cave, catching the Daughter of Summer’s attention.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on. Do we do what she says?”
“
Yes,” she answers with emphatic certainty.
Taffeta’s lips become a line as her jaw sets. “All right.”
Then the ice breaks and everyone moves at once.
Taffeta hefts her Summer Crossbow and starts firing bolts of radiant light at the dragon made of ice and shadow, whilst Arkadius and Ruk fly up, the former unleashing a deadly array of scorching fire to the three creatures whilst the latter conjures up a mighty hand to interpose in front of the wolf. The shadows twitch, gather, and then lunge out at Jaezred, Merla and Taffeta. The fae-bard tries to bring her dancing rapier between her and the attacking shadows but to no avail. With each necrotic strike she feels a fear trying to penetrate her mind, wanting to pierce its way into her heart. But she is the Daughter of Summer, and Merla’s anger at the Unseelie fuels her bravery, banishing such an attempt to hinder her.
Then an icy roar blows through the cave. Morrinn stumbles as the dragon of ice and shadows casts its breath upon them all. Merla hastily traces out the Elven symbol for ice allowing her to absorb some of the freezing element but it still burns in a way that makes it hard for her to breathe for a moment.
Slipping by the cloaked shadow, Astra gracefully kneels down allowing Merla to climb upon her back, gripping the vines as the winged unicorn then rears back distracting the shadows so they can fly over the Snow Queen. When they are in position, Merla twirls her blade and the two disappear in a puff of summer air. Wind and steel, heat and music, wings and song. Each strike hits true. But as soon as one of the three huge creatures is hit, the ice and shadow crystallise the wounds, trying to close over the damage wrought. Merla sings a short inspirational song for Morrinn but the Queen of Winter is shaken despite the gesture.
“Merla, look!” There’s a hollow popping sound to her left and Merla sees the Frost Giant blink out of existence. It is only as Taffeta fades away to invisibility does Merla realise it was her who cast the banishing magic.
“Hopefully that will help us,” she says to her winged companion.
Arkadius is flying up by the stalactites, his gaze focused on what Morrinn is doing. It is not something she sees, but rather Merla feels that Arkadius, through the power of his considerable will, is lending the Queen of Ice and Snow support to help her cleanse the Heart of the Glacier.
She was so focused on what her friend was doing that Merla missed the cloaked shadow rush up to Morrinn. It began to claw away at the Archfey.
“This better not be a waste of my time!” Jaezred shouts from a raised, rocky platform. It seemed like the drow sorcerer was also trying to lend his will, though Merla did not think his words helped deliver his intent.
As the dragon brought its claws down on Morrinn, Astra and Merla flew to her side, the fae-bard singing a word of healing for herself, the Winter Queen, Jaezred and Arkadius before plunging her blade wreathed in Summer Flame into the dragon. It roared in pain as the green and gold flames licked at its chest. A whipping tendril lashes out at the cloaked shadow to wrap around its neck, suffocating it with light and fire, before Merla withdraws her blade.
She has a moment to survey the cavern. What she sees is not promising.
Despite everything Merla and their friends have been doing, even though the Winter Wolf is in a state of solemn rest from Ruk’s attacks, and the Frost Giant is banished, the flow of energy still coming from their stones is riddled with dark corruption.
“Cleanse… the stones,” Morrinn grinds out through gritted teeth. She takes a breath and then redoubles her efforts on her own task.
Merla looks to her right, to the stone the dragon came from, then back at Morrinn. Once again, she finds herself wondering where along the line Summer and Winter came to stand on opposite sides of the board – and if there could be a way for the two to work together in harmony.
“You got this, darling!”
Arkadius’s voice calls to her and Merla nods her thanks across the air of the battlefield. The dragon bares its sizeable teeth at her as shattering fire explodes on its back, the result of her best friend’s very timely attack. It’s form is considerably damaged now, with cracks marring it to the point where it appears to be more shadow than ice. Merla is about to have Astra fly over to its stone when, with a deft quickness that belies its size, it claws at her.
Merla tries not to scream in pain as blood pours down her sides.
“Merla!”
“Steady, Astra. I am not undone yet.” From behind the dragon Merla hear’s Ruk shout, “Why won’t you die!?”
“Oh come on, get with the times!
The stones!!” Arkadius shouts back.
For some reason, hearing that exchange makes Merla laugh.
Then the dragon roars and the laughter dies in her throat as Merla feels her very soul quiver. She sheaths her sword and grips the vines around Astra’s withers.
“Come Astra, to the dragon’s stone!” Feinting up, the winged unicorn swoops around the dragon’s snapping maw and they dash over to its core, Merla catching a glimpse of the crumpled, unconscious, bleeding form of Jaezred. Singing out a word of healing for him and their allies once more, she then turns her focus to the task at hand.
There is, without a doubt, a rot set within the stone. Where on the Material Plane, people may imagine things like trees, stones and rivers have an animus to them, in the Feywild, such spirits are real entities with living souls. The stone in front of her has been infected with a corruption that goes deep, all the way to the core of its being.
“Can you fix it?” Astra asks her.
Merla doesn’t answer. There isn’t any time. But she thinks she can, either by pushing or burning the corruption away.
The air begins to hum around Merla, music pouring off of her in waves. She touches the stone – an ice dragon’s heart, she suddenly realises – and begins to channel the force of her will through her hands to the centre of this stone where the dark corruption lies. She pushes and pushes, burning with joy and music, singing a song to the glory of summer with her mind, heart and soul. Merla feels the Dark try to escape her reach, trying to hide from her Light. But her radiance is of the sun itself, the strongest star in this realm, and it is fuelled by her love, which knows no bounds.
The energy flowing from the dragon’s heart pulses with a golden light as the music builds to a crescendo, the last of the corrupting Dark burning away from Merla’s cleansing will. Then it begins to flow a clean blue-white to the Heart at the centre of the chamber and the Daughter of Summer lets go. The dragon shudders and the shadows begin to drain away. Without the Darkness filling the cracks, it looks unbearably fragile.
Without needing to be told, Astra flies back to Queen Morrinn’s side.
Buoyed by the influx of untainted energy from the heart of the ice dragon, Morrinn seems to be making progress burning away the Darkness that has infected the stone at the Heart of the Glacier. Though Merla notices her wounds are very severe.
“Arkadius! You must take care of the wolf!” Merla shouts to her best friend.
He glances at her, their eyes locking onto each other.
“Raven’s wings guide you,” she adds. Arakdius nods and begins to fly away.
From across the way, a bright yellow light flares into existence and some part of Merla knows it is Taffeta who cleansed the carved statue of the Frost Giant. Then, from the direction Arkadius went in, the familiar tuned wind of Zot Goran can be heard as the thread of power from the Winter Wolf’s pelt also clears, once more running blue-white. Beside her, Queen Morrinn is looking stronger, the concentration of her considerable will working on cleansing the final stone. Merla begins to think that they may actually succeed in stopping the Unseelie’s ploy.
Then the ice dragon roars one final time before exploding into shards of ice.
Without a second thought, the winged unicorn and fae-bard dive in front of Queen Morrinn shielding her from the worst of the blast. They both cry out as fragments of ice sink into them.
“For the love of Lolth, don’t let that thing come back!” Jaezred shouts.
“There is one shadow left,” Astra points out. She dips down, briefly struggling to stay aloft but Astra manages to pull herself together.
Merla is finding it hard to focus, the concussive explosion and pain of ice dazing her a little more than she thought it would. She is about to tell Astra to turn around, when her eyes find Morrinn. The Snow Queen’s diamonds and clothes all seem to be shining a little brighter. The crispness of her form helps to clear the pain from Merla’s mind.
Before she even realises she is doing it, Merla places a hand on the Snow Queen’s shoulder.
“The Daughter of Summer is with you for this.” For the first time, Queen Morrinn, the ruler of the Winter Court, regards her fully. It is not a light thing. Morrinn is an Archfey, practically god-like in power – and Merla is addressing her directly. To have the daughter of her enemy here, in the Heart of Winter, at the centre of Morrinn’s Power, lending aid in this most desperate of struggles is no easy thing. Regardless of what their differences have been, notwithstanding the war between their Courts both past and present, it is clear to both the Queen of Winter and the Daughter of Summer that failure in this serves no one.
And so Merla joins her will to Morrinn’s.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, there is a sound like a wave crashing and a figure, clad in only a very short towel, appears just outside of the central ring where Queen Morrinn, Merla and the others are starting to gather together.
There is a shared groan between Astra and Merla.
“Oh, is this the plunge pool?” Ulorian says, looking around, confused.
“I was looking for the sauna.” With another splashing sound the River King vanishes.
Arkadius says, “In five, ten, or whenever-we-finish-this minute’s time, you’re all going to tell me who the fuck that was but for now–”
“That
bitch, Ulorian!” Merla practically snarls.
“Ohhh, him. Never heard of him,” the tiefling says before casting a chromatic orb that destroys the last shadow figure.
As the others begin to join their will to Morrinn’s, the distraction of Ulorian’s sudden and unhelpful appearance is pushed to the side. The Queen of Winter begins to glow a silver white like fresh snow. Merla smiles as she continues to lend Morrinn her will.
“Summer and Winter can work together, when needs must.” There is no acknowledgement of Merla’s words, so focused on her task is the Snow Queen. But Morrinn must still have heard her because she opens herself fully to Merla’s support. With Ruk and Taffeta already lending their aid, the Daughter of Summer feels her energy flow through the Queen of Winter. Morrinn lets out an uncharacteristic howl of victory as the last flecks of Darkness burn away from inside the Heart of the Glacier.
She falls panting to her knees taking a moment for herself. Then Queen Morrinn slowly pushes herself back up, looking around at all of them.
“You did well. It was as it had to be. Let us return.”
With a crack like splitting stone, Merla and Astra, along with their companions, and the Queen of Ice and Snow, step out of a cloud of sleet, all of them slightly frostbitten. They all feel the wounds from their fight in the Glacier but none so much as Queen Morrinn, who has deep cuts down her back despite all the healing Merla did to help. Merla’s own sliced form smarts with every step Astra takes but she forgets it all when she sees Queen Titania, charred and with a number of cuts on her arms. The Queen of Summer looks tired but happy as the orb-like sun of the Summer Spirit floats next to her, with Pieni, Ghesh, Grimes and Mace stumbling forward with her.
It takes everything within Merla to not rush to her Mother’s side. Instead, she allows the tears of relief to run down her cheeks as Titania’s eyes find hers across the grassy bowl, and Merla smiles.
Queen Nicnevin followed closely by the spring eladrin Imryll, along with their windswept adventurers, appears in the next breath in a swirl of wind and leaves. The Bear King and his intrepid group stroll out from a warm breeze filled with the smell of honey and cinnamon. There is a single nod between Mesikammen and Miandra, the Queen of Twilight, who gives a relieved nod back. From the ground sprouts a tree that forms a semicircle like portal and out steps Tolven, the Duke of Decay, along with Faust and the adventurers who accompanied the mighty Treant. And finally, in the middle of the amphitheatre, the noble stag rises again with a group of newer faces from the adventuring community Merla does not recognise. The spirits of each of these Noble Fey’s realms accompany each group and as they appear, there is a collective sigh of relief shared by all.
The Unseelie forces were thwarted. They all managed to push back the Queen of Air and Darkness.
“I think we should see everyone else back for voting,” Queen Titania says, taking the lead.
“Yes, not a moment to lose. You!” She points to a trio of elves who appeared to have stayed in the area and look like they fought, at least a little.
“Get everyone back!” They dash off but the Queen of Summer is looking at the other Archfey.
“All of our people fucked off and ran,” she says, then gestures to the adventurers from the Material Plane.
“This is the lot that stayed. I say they get a vote.” Merla’s jaw drops in shocked surprise.
“Any objections?” her Queen Mother adds, her eyes challenging.
“Hear hear,” the Bear King agrees, raising a tankard of his signature honey mead.
“Agreed,” Queen Nicnevin says solemnly.
“No objections from me,” says Duke Tolven.
Morin merely nods.
With the sound of crashing waves, another figure suddenly appears.
“Well, I object to that!” Holding a piña colada in one hand and pointing with a beautifully manicured finger to the sky, Ulorian’s pouting frown makes him appear like a petulant child rather than the Archfey he is. Merla looks up and has to stifle a laugh at what she sees written, plain as day for all to see.
ULORIAN IS A COWARD
“Where is he? Where is that little bard?” Ulorian scans the crowd. Merla thought perhaps it was the cheeky aquatic elf Osborin who had written such bold words but when the people around Duke Tolvin parted it was Faust they revealed.
“You are extremely lucky, little man, that I recently made a promise… and I don’t break them.” It is not often that such an expression is seen on Merla’s face, but the most satisfied and haughty grin finds a brief home on the Daughter of Summer’s beautiful visage.
“Titania this has gone on long enough,” Ulorian says, suddenly feigning boredom.
“I have hopped around. You couldn’t stay still for a single second, none of you. Can we vote and get it over with please.” “Calm your waters, Ulorian. They will be returning momentarily,” Queen Titania says with equal parts dignity and dismissiveness.
Ulorian scoffs. Her gaze sharpens just a little and the River King does his best to hide his flinch at her gaze.
“Sit down. Drink your drink. Very soon we will get started and we can all go home. This has been… a day.” Merla could not agree more.
A couple hours later, after being reunited with Kruxeral, relieved that he was safe and managed to help others get out of grassy bowl when it seemed like so many of them had been whisked away, Merla was sitting with her harp in her lap, a nervous energy buzzing through her.
It was a monumentally big deal that the Archfey were allowing her and those from the Material Plane a say in what could alter the course of everything in Feywild. Merla was thrilled to be allowed a voice to vote. But would it mean her Mother’s victory?
Kruxeral laid a hand on her thigh, a supportive and comforting touch that said what he could not for the Song was about to begin.
At first, the music sung or played by the Fey Nobility and the Adventures from the Dawnlands sounded like a variation on the Song Merla hears whenever she is in Queen Titania’s presence. It was a strange feeling, being able to sing music that was so much like and yet not like her Mother’s Song when her first promise was to never ever sing it so long as she walked within the Realms.
But then the melody began to move towards another’s. Merla felt a momentary hopelessness that her voice wasn’t strong enough to convince others to change their minds. But that was not the purpose of this song. That was not how things were meant to happen here.
For all of her efforts – for all of Queen Titania’s efforts – and even for all that Queen Morrinn has done, it is ultimately Queen Nicnevin, the Giant Queen of Witches, she of the Mountains who steps forward towards the centre as the music harmonises fully with her Song. Titania and Morrinn, seeing the choice that the majority are making, graciously change their tune.
In the back of the grassy amphitheatre is a large tree. With Queen Nicnevin’s melody resonating all around them, Merla’s own voice, one amongst the many singing the Giantess’ song, there emerges from the tree a throne. She walks over to sit herself upon it and all of the Archfey in attendance turn to her and bow.
Queen Nicnevin, Lady of Copper and Crystal, Rises Ascendant.
