Que Sera, Sera – Merla – 26.08.2021

---

The summons came from Coll at Fort Ettin. He explained that an amateur group of wanna-be adventurers sent out to the Angelbark to investigate an unknown creature that had been attacking the forest, leaving a trail of dead and withered trees in its wake, but they had not returned. Naturally, growing concerned, Coll sent another, slightly stronger group to find the first – bonus points for investigating what was going on, and to report back, safely. But when the second group did not return either, the proprietor of the adventurer’s haven knew he had to call upon those more experienced (and of a powerful calibre) to look into what in the Hells was going on.

It only took an hour once they reached the Angelbark before Merla, BB, Pieni, Igrainne, and Mace found exactly where the problem was.

The very visible line between living trees and dead trees was jarring to look at, giving the horrible sensation that Merla had raised her foot for another step, only to find it not there, to plummet down, down, down. This necrotic road cut a harsh, straight line from north-west to south-east through the ancient forest. The dead trees’ bark stripped from their thick trunks and leaves withered into dust. A couple steps further and they saw a path of literal nothingness.

“What in Summer’s name happened here?” Astra asks, breathless in dreadful awe at the sight before them.

No trees. No plants. All forms of life from the ground have been pulled away from the dead zone of nothingness. The only thing before them is cold, dry, barren dirt.

“I don’t know…” Merla eventually replies, shaken. “But nothing will be able to live or grow here ever again by the looks of it.”

She scans up and down the horrible necrotic road, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

“BB, Pieni, Igrainne,” Merla starts, “You’re all well versed in things of Nature but whatever did this is not natural. It’s magical, but…” She searches for the right words. “It’s bizarre. I do not sense necrotic magic but it sure as the Hells feels like it.”

Igrainne narrows her eyes, confused. “What?”

“I don’t know how to explain it but… something did this.” Merla gestures at the dead zone, frustrated she cannot quite figure it out. “And it’s very concerning.”

“That is terrible,” Mace agrees. They all look at the tiefling, his arms folded in contemplation as he nods sagely. “Nothing can grow here meaning nothing can live off the land. Not the beasts, not the people. We have to do something about this, for if nothing grows here, there won’t be anything to harvest…”

Astra glances back to Merla rolling her eyes, as Mace’s lilting voice continues on like a dull thrum.

They begin to follow the harsh, barren line cut through the Angelbark north after Pieni flies up to confirm which direction whatever caused this could be in. He sees a dreadful and horrendously dark cloud moving slowly towards them and there’s a moment where they all share a look, one that asks if they really should be going towards such a thing. But the moment passes, and they set out, not a word mentioned for the passing idea that maybe they should turn back now before it is too late.

---

The dark mass of clouds shifts, making some sort of vague face on the body of what could be a four legged creature. Gargantuan, smokey tendrils drift up from its back, reaching in their general direction as the pits where its eyes should be just stares at them. The more Merla tries to focus on it, the more it hurts her eyes to try. It reminds her of the sort of beings one would find in ancient of tomes that describe eldritch horrors, those great and terrible beings that live beyond the stars in the darkness of the void.

A cold shiver runs down her spine between the tallon-like scars of her back.

From beside her, BB waves tentatively. Merla reaches out, placing a firm hand on her firblog friend’s, shaking her head.

“Anyone got a giant fan?” Mace asks half jokingly from behind them.

Igrainne barks a shaky laugh.

Astra takes a step forward then takes off, carrying Merla up with her. BB and Pieni follow on their own wings. When all four get high enough they pause, not sure what to do next.

“Maybe we should try talking to it?” Pieni suggests.

“Would it even understand us?” Astra points out to Merla.

“We won’t know unless we try…” the fae-bard answers. Aloud she directs a question to the creature. “What are you doing here?”

BB thinks for a moment. “Are you… having a rough time? Do you need to talk?”

“Are you some sort of depression cloud?” Pieni asks, tilting his head.

The creature seems to regard the four of them, almost like it is thinking how to respond. The moment stretches on longer than is comfortable with no answer, but neither does it move. Merla was just debating casting a spell to read its mind when it suddenly lets out a long, low moan.

“rooooooooOOOOOOOOAAAAHHHHHHH!”

With a speed that should not have been possible, one of its large tentacles swings at them.

“Look out!”

They scatter to the winds – or try to. Pieni goes left, BB goes right, Astra and Merla go up, intending to do an aerial somersault out of the way. But this thing does not move in a normal way, it does not abide by the same laws of time and space that they do. The thick, smokey, necrotic tendril spits. One moment Pieni is screeching out a cry of alarm as he attempts to dive out of the way, the next his cry is cut off as the darkness envelops him. The blue aarakocra disappears into the smoke, and it is impossible to see what happened to him. Merla has but a moment as white hot fear jolts through her before the same tendril comes up behind her and Astra.

Then everything goes dark.

---

Darkness surrounds her. Merla is not aware of anything or anyone else, except for a faint sensation at her navel. It feels familiar to her, something she has experienced a hundred times before. But as she slowly crawls her way up to consciousness, Merla becomes increasingly aware of a rising discomfort. She tries to push it away, focusing on what is happening around her. She cannot see, but if there’s one thing Merla knows it’s that one’s eyes can be deceived. So she tries to feel instead, starting with figuring out what that sensation in her gut is.

As soon as she focuses, Merla understands it. She is being pulled somewhere. Of course she would recognise this sensation. It’s the same as when she travelled from Daring Heights to the Golden Palace of Perihelion in the Summer Lands. And yet-

Why is it so painful?

As soon as the thought crosses her mind, Merla feels herself yanked harder and she cries out. She is moving quicker through space. Her heart starts racing as she gains more and more velocity, the beat of her heart quickening with each protracted second. Why is it taking so long? Surely, wherever she was being pulled to, she should have arrived by now. Unless…

A speck of light twinkles into existence. She blinks and the speck becomes a crack, it’s jagged edges spreading out farther and farther as Merla and her companions – that was the final thing she felt as across their bond Astra finally awoke, flooding her mind with her familiar starlight – are being brought towards the cracks of light. It continues to rapidly expand until Merla sees it as something akin to a pane of glass with a forest just beyond it. A new, uncontrolled panic fills her as she realises they are hurtling towards it with no means to stop.

“Brace your-!”

Merla does not finish the thought. They smash through whatever barrier to whichever dimensional plane they have been pulled to. All of them are dazed – never before has Merla been so disoriented from planar travel before – and something doesn’t feel quite right. But she doesn’t have time to dwell on that thought. They are still falling and none of them can get themselves oriented to do anything to stop the inevitable.

Their screams are cut off as they are jolted to a sudden stop mere inches from the ground, suspended on that same ephemeral thread which had pulled them to this plane. There is a collective sigh of relief, then they are let go to land in the dirt.

“Ugghhh, ow…” Mace groans as he slowly pushes himself up to sitting.

Merla shakily sits up as well, panting, trying to steady her shaking hands, whilst Astra rather ungracefully, tries to roll onto her belly.

“What… in the-…ohmystars, is everyone okay?”

BB is suddenly hugging her very tightly, sobbing into Merla’s hair.

“Ohmygodsyouguysarealive!?”

“Y-yeah, we all are,” Merla says, looking at Igrainne and Mace in confusion. Together, the three tell Pieni, Merla, and Astra what had happened after they had been struck by the unknown cloud creature. When they said they saw their bodies fall to the ground, rapidly aging and turning to dust, Merla understood why BB was clinging to her. She thought they were dead, lost, gone forever.

“It’s okay BB. We’re here. I’m here. We’re not dead – my butt hurts too much from that landing to be anything but alive, ha-ha,” Merla gives a small chuckle at her bad pun, but winces at a jolt of pain in her side. She must’ve hit the ground harder than she thought.

“Yeah, I thought you all died,” Mace states, dusting himself off. He pauses, a look of horror flashing across his face. “Wait. We all died.”

“No, she’s right,” Igrainne half heartedly reassures him.

“What do you mean? Are you sure, Igrainne?” Pieni asks, their feathers still standing on end.

“We are definitely not going to the same afterlife,” she states matter of factly to Pieni specifically. Turning to the rest of them she continues, “Besides that, that thing was a giant portal, but it wasn’t how it was supposed to be.” The half-drow finishes the sentence almost sounding like a question. Merla raises an eyebrow. “There’s something wrong with it and we are not supposed to be here.”

“That is a good question,” Pieni says, shakily standing up to brush the dirt from himself. “Where are we exactly? The Shadowfell? Astral Plane?”

They all take a moment to look around.

The forest they had seen before their violent arrival to this plane surrounds them. It is not the Angelbark – nor is it like any healthy forest for that matter – but it is familiar to Merla. But the landscape is more like a desert, so she looks around, confused. The trees, clearly once thick, lush and verdant in nature, are all dried out, barren deciduous trees. The few coniferous ones are so burnt they look like they could crumble into an orange-brown dust if the wind was a little stronger. Their branches rattle like hollow bones overhead, quaking as if startled by their sudden arrival, and a small breeze carries a few grains of sand in the wind. It is so oppressively hot, the sun blazing down on them at its zenith in the sky, it is no wonder the forest is on the brink of being set ablaze. They were going to be too if they did not find cover soon.

But Merla could not shake the feeling that this forest was familiar to her. She takes a few steps towards one of the trees, something droning at the back of her mind, when she and the others realise where they had been transported to.

“This is the Feywild,” Igrainne gasps from under her hood.

Mace looks at her, a mix of disbelief and awe colouring his tiefling features. “What?”

“I’m positive it’s-”

“The Summer Court.”

Merla’s voice was barely above a whisper, but her eyes were wide with shock as she saw in the distance great golden towers crumbled into ruins, a mighty mountain cleaved in two, and the forest that once held such enchanted dreams that bards from far and wide would come to to find a voice, a word, a song, anything to carry them on the path of Creation, was uprooted, burnt, broken and dying all around of what remained of Perihelion Palace.

Then she realises the insistent droning hum she has been hearing is a Song, one she knows all too well.

Without a word, Astra is beside her and the two are taking off. Wings pinioning faster than ever before, the winged unicorn carries her mistress high above so they can both scan the lands. But no matter where they look there can be no denying it. This is the Summer Court, her home.

And yet…

A glint from below catches Astra’s eye.

“That’s the river that borders the Summer Lands and the Undying Forest of the Autumn Court,” Astra points out.

“It can’t be. It is supposed to be farther away…” Merla starts before trailing off as she follows its course.

The river is completely straight. Merla wondered what Ulorian would think about such a disastrous display, then quickly banished the thought from her mind.

Once again, the thought crosses her mind that something isn’t quite right about this place. But before she can reflect on why this feeling keeps coming to her, movement from the ruins of Perihelion catches Merla’s attention.

Astra begins to fly towards the Palace, Merla sending a hasty message to BB. Her friend’s reply is cut short as Astra’s speed quickly takes them out of range and the others are left to catch up to the Daughter of Summer and her winged companion.

The rubble continues to shift, then it begins to fall away as a sixty foot tall figure emerges, standing amongst the ruins of the heart of the Summer Court. Astra comes to a very sudden stop mid flight. Merla would have been thrown from her back had she not held onto her partner’s mane for dear life. If the size of the figure wasn’t intimidating enough, then the fact that it had a giant sun for a head certainly was.

“What in all the realms is that?” Astra asks, aghast.

“I don’t-”

The giant figure levels a massive greatsword.

“Stars, no.”

One all too familiar to her.

“It cannot be.”

It strikes, cutting down one of the brilliant towers of the castle.

“Mother?”

This last, Merla says aloud, but they are too far away. Astra tentatively flies closer until Merla indicates she is well within Messaging distance.

“Femaer, is that you?! What has happened?”

The giant figure freezes mid swing, their massive greatsword lodged in a piece of the star shaped keep. It is hard to tell, but Merla feels it’s gaze turn towards her.

“ARE YOU FRIEND OR FOE?”

Merla is confused by the question. There is no recognition anywhere in the voice that answers back, though it is as familiar to her.

“I am a friend. My name is Merla. I am the Daughter of Summer, of Queen Titania. What has happened to this realm, to its people? And… who are you?”

The giant figure lifts the greatsword pointing it towards her.

“I AM QUEEN TITANIA. I HAVE NO DAUGHTER.”

Despite the words that reverberate back in her head like a hurricane, Merla knows this giant, destructive creature is her Mother. She can hear it in the Song that echoes within her heart.

“Has something happened that has made you forget me? I am Merla Copperkettle!”

As she says her name, there is a moment of hesitation. Merla presses on.

“We have fought beside each other – I have fought to be by your side! We have faced Cabals and Pandemonium together…”

“Merla…?”

The greatsword lowers slightly as her mother’s voice comes out true for the first time, not obscured or overshadowed by an anger driven by fear. It is her Queen Mother, the one who’s Song always calls her home, finally answers back. Merla feels her eyes sting as tears prick at their corners.

“Yes, it’s me…”

The greatsword rises again.

“NO. THIS IS AN UNSEELIE TRICK!”

“No! It’s not!”

Merla tries to sing the Song aloud, the one that a mortal girl like her should never have been able to hear, but she feels the bounds of the first promise she has ever made constrict her throat, freezing the air in her lungs. Astra looks back at her, a panicked question in her starlight eyes. Merla shakes herself, pulls up her harp, and strums a beautiful C chord, Sending the Song directly from her heart to her Mother’s.

Titania stumbles back and the world shakes. She shrinks down to a mere forty-five feet tall as Merla’s voice in her head seems to finally have broken through to her. Merla can tell it is working as the radiant, beautiful visage of the Summer Queen begins to emerge within the sun. For a moment Merla thinks she can get through to her, possibly even help save her.

Then the Archfey looks at her and Merla sees the wall that goes up behind her eyes, denying the truth in the Song. Thinking quickly, the fae-bard plucks out a succession of quick notes on her harp, touches her first and third finger to her brows then swoops them down. When she blinks again, Merla sees the truth about the sun surrounding Titania’s head.

“The sun is the Summer Spirit! It’s what has caused her to act in this distrustful and destructive way!” Merla tells Astra.

“Then how can we help?” the winged unicorn asks.

Titania starts to grow back to her previously gigantic height.

“I have an idea,” Merla starts, putting her harp away. “But you’ll have to trust me.”

Astra steals herself, getting ready. “I do, Merla.”

Merla holds up her hands, takes a deep breath, and projects her voice, telling Astra to slowly edge closer.

“You know it is me. I am your daughter. I sang a song for you when it was just the two of us in the Casillian Family’s ballroom…”

        As the wish concealed in my hand faded
        All I saw was unending dream fly away

        In my heart was a memory
        As I stood at the end of an unknowing world
        And all I saw were possibilities

As she sings, the two see Titania shrink back down, the sun once again retreating back under her skin until it is just her Mother’s face, but with the radiant sunlight coming from within. With each breath and each word Astra brings Merla closer and closer, her wing’s steady even though her equine heart is racing. Merla’s heart is strong, the drum beat that keeps the rhythm to the music she is making, the Song she is Creating to soothe both her Queen Mother and the Spirit of the lands she calls home.

They draw closer. As Titania continues to shrink down, music echoing around them, Merla reaches out and places a very small hand on her Queen Mother’s face. She is surprised to not be burned by the heat that lies beneath the surface. But, then again, not once has her Mother ever hurt her, even when she thought Merla had betrayed her. She knew the heart that beat within the Queen. It was oceans vast and skies without limit, filled with a love for her court that has seen it rise stronger than ever before, filled with passion and ardour. It has even given love to a mortal child who is not of her blood, but is her own in every other way possible.

Merla touches Titania’s face and casts the spell she has been holding cupped in her hand. As it sinks into radiant skin, it takes effect immediately and her Mother’s eyes go from a burning, golden yellow to a clear, crisp blue – the very same shade as Merla’s own. Titania takes a shaky breath as a thousand emotions flash through those crystalline cerulean pools. She holds up a giant hand to Merla.

“Run.”

And then Queen Titania is gone.

---

Merla tried Plane Shifting them back home but it did not work. In fact, it seemed to have made the stability of the reality they were in even worse. They all agreed that the Feywild surrounding them was not of the same timeline they were from, but none of them could say for certain if time had run forward. Merla, Astra and BB had experience with being wrenched through time. Almost a year prior, when Vorsthold was being attacked by an alliance of liches, one of them was a master of chronurgy – but that time they had stayed on the same Plane of Existence, in the same reality. This was different. Who knows if they would ever be able to get back home?

Igrainne explained that she could feel these fissures and breaks leaking smoke – the same kind that was part of creature they had faced in the Angelbark. What Merla couldn’t seem to understand was why. Why was this happening? Why were they brought to this reality?

What could it all mean?

They had come across a faun, Carroway, the first denizen of this strange, alternate reality, and they all bombarded him with questions. What happened to the Summer Court? (“Queen Titania destroyed it.”) Is it like this everywhere in the Feywild? (“Pretty much.”) How did it get like this? (“The Queen of Air and Darkness attacked at the Ascension Ceremony, infecting the spirits of the Feywild with her darkness.”) How long has it been like this? (“Four moons.”)

Merla kept bouncing between utter astonishment and complete denial that this is what could have happened had they not succeeded in helping the Archfey and the Spirits. From what she understood from talking to the other adventurers who fought against her Mother’s sister’s minions, the Unseelie had been too close to succeeding. Not for the first time, Merla wondered if perhaps they all had some Fate-touched hand helping them help from afar.

Carroway was bringing them to one of the last safe havens on this plane for the Seelie Fey. Apparently there was someone who would be interested in meeting them, and who also led the resistance – or what remained of it. Merla was curious but also cautious. They were being led into the Gloaming Court – the Queen of Air and Darkness’ realm which had expanded well beyond anything it could have ever been in their reality – to a large dome made of water. It was almost easy to miss it blended so well into the surrounding dark woods. Going into it left a chill but refreshing sensation across their skin. Merla was just musing on what Ulorian would say about the waters of the Feywild being so temporal when they stepped through a large tent flap big enough to allow Astra to follow in as well.

Inside was a figure with their back to them. His pale blue hair was styled so it was upright on the top of his head to a relatively short length that graduated down the sides. This allowed people to see his elegantly pointed ears which pleasantly complimented the angle of his jaw. His clothes, although nicely made and tailored to fit his five foot three figure perfectly, are practical, more about function over form: Boots meant last for long treks, trousers that had strategic pouches on the outside of the legs, and an unembellished tunic with the sleeves rolled up slightly.

“Hey, boss,” Carroway says. “There are some people here you might want to talk to.”

As the fey turns around and looks at them Merla stops dead in her tracks.

“Ulorian?” she gasps. “Is that-... Is that you?!”

The Archfey partially frowns, shifting their weight from foot to foot, doing their best to hide their discomfort at everyone’s open mouthed stares.

BB is shaking her head. “No. No way…”

Pieni gives a confused squawk as his feathers once again puff up.

“Oh my…” BB continues, hand raised and covering her face as she looks over what they are wearing. “…Oh my.”

“Wait, is this the Ulorian? The one who created the Lassitude?” Igrainne turns to them and asks.

BB and Merla nod in unison. “The one who also gave me a weird seed as well and-”

“You didn’t plant that seed by any chance, did you?” Ulorian asks, leaping onto the opportunity to focus on something other than himself.

“Wha-? I, uh…” BB’s eyes dart around the room as she fumbles to find her words. “…yes.”

“Oh, I wondered what that did,” the River King says thoughtfully, a small smile lifting his lips.

Merla shares a dumbfounded look with Astra. Pieni starts asking questions, things like whether or not they would unleash a plague upon an unsuspecting group of mortals to win a competition, whilst everyone else tries to ask their own “what if” questions.

“I need you to come back with us and meet someone!” the aarakocra declares.

“I’m kind of busy here,” Ulorian says, pointing to the table. “You know, there’s a lot of things going on.”

“Wait, are you telling me you are the resistance? Ulorian, the River King?” Igrainne chuckles.

Ulorian frowns and there’s a glint of the Archfey Merla knows but it’s as tiny as a single drop in a vast ocean, gone before it can be truly perceived. “We are the Wandering Court. We wander around and help people.”

Igrainne and Pieni both stifle a laugh.

As much as she did not like to admit it, what Merla saw when they had passed through the camp just outside the tent was countless fey who were lost, injured and in desperate need of help, and Ulorian had been the only one able to provide it. Such was the nature of his court that he could. But the most bizarre thing to her was that they continued to do so, taking it as a point of pride that only they were able to do this.

“What happened to the other Archfey?” Mace finally asks after a protracted moment of awkward silence.

Ulorian gives a nervous chuckle. “You all may want to sit down for this. It’s… a bit of a conversation.”

He starts out by explaining that, shortly after her rise to being the Ascendant Fey, the Queen of Air and Darkness did something to seal off the Feywild from the other Planes. No portals, no interplanar travel, nothing – and no one was allowed to come in or leave the Realm of Fey.

Meanwhile, Queen Titania sought to fight against the Unseelie with her sword and might, and did successfully push them back – for a time. But the Spirit of Summer had been corrupted – as had every other Spirit of the Feywild. Eventually, the Queen of Summer began to “see” the Unseelie everywhere. She ended up destroying her own court in her attempt to wipe them out. Autumn and Spring were pretty much non-existent anymore, stuck between the extremes of Summer and Winter. Queen Morinn apparently folded in on herself, hoarding more secrets and knowledge whilst becoming colder than ever before, resulting in the Winter Court becoming a frozen wasteland. The Witching Queen went blind when her crystal shattered and no one has heard anything from Twilight, let alone been able to enter the Court’s boundaries. There did not seem to be a way or a means to fix the corrupted Spirits, nor would there be any help from the adventurers of the Dawnlands either. They had all been banished from the Faen Realm back to the Prime Material when the Unseelie Queen had taken control.

Reeling at the information shared, Merla and her companions started to explain that it was Queen Nicnevin who rose to Ascendancy where they are from, and the adventurers from the Dawnlands helped thwart the Queen of Air and Darkness’ bid for corruption and control successfully.

“Well fuck,” Ulorian says despondently after a moment of silence.

Merla wanted to comfort him, but didn’t know how, so kept silent.

BB sits forward in her chair. “The thing is, we’re really not supposed to be here. There was this cloud of un-nature that leaked into our world and it brought us here against your own volition. We’ve seen the cracks.” Ulorian’s expression tightens. “That same dark smoke is leaking from these cracks and it seems to be growing.”

“Yes, it’s like pores,” Igrainne adds. “I sense several dozens of them within a mile of us.”

“I won’t lie, something is off,” is all Ulorian says.

“I wonder if what She did caused some sort of planar imbalance,” Igrainne suggests. “You know, like when you put too much water in a vessel and it bursts.”

Mace and Pieni nod, but Merla sees the River King mulling that thought, a contemplative look to their eyes.

“Something else happened, I think,” they finally say. “Something brought you here when it should not have been able to.”

There is a collective moment of silence. Merla hasn’t stopped looking at Ulorian, her mind whirling a mile a minute from everything that she has observed.

“It’s a shame we will have to leave this place at some point – or try to,” BB says. “As we said, we really should not be here.”

Ulorian nods, their expression becoming strained. “Your arrival here did something. Something feels off.”

“Is that a bad kind of off?” Merla asks.

The River King looks at her and slowly nods.

“Shit.”

“It started a few days ago. It feels like… a disease. But you being here,” their eyes wash over the rest of them, “It’s escalating. I can feel it.”

“A disease?”

They half shrug. “That’s what it feels like, to me.”

“And the effects are-”

Suddenly, there is a resounding crack of thunder. Looking up, they all can see it through the top of the tent – a dark crack in the fabric of reality, oozing inky-black smoke.

“That,” Ulorian indicates. “And I’m afraid that this disease is going to kill the body. Meaning, there isn’t much time left to get you back to where you’re from.”

---

Do not tarry, do not stop, no matter what happens – and stay on the path. These were Ulorian’s instructions to them as they set out to the rendezvous point. The River King was going to send them back to their timeline, but he needed to get a few things first, and they needed to get to the right breach in the fabric of this reality. The location was in the Gloaming Court, but Ulorian had assured them that the Court was so vast, the Unseelie Queen would not be able to patrol every area.

Yet they were still nearly ambushed.

The first wave was terrifying to face. Three riders, all fused to their mounts and charging at them with abandon. It was no wonder the few Seelie Fey who were left were so terribly weak and injured. But Merla and her companions managed to put an end to the three dreaded creatures. They were gathering once more, still waiting for Ulorian to meet them – Merla began to wonder if perhaps he had set them up despite all he had said about leading the resistance – when the second wave of Unseelie spirits appeared and they are being attacked again.

A bolt strikes one of the riders and it disappears in a puff of smoke. Another bolt, another one is destroyed. One after another the spirits are picked off before any of them can do something to defend themselves. As the last one is taken care of, Ulorian appears brushing smoke off his shoulder, walking briskly towards them.

“They won’t be bothering you anymore,” the River King states. “I think it’s time you get out of here.”

He strides past them to the large fracture they were gathered near, grabs the edges, and begins to pull it open. Merla watches, fascinated, as he seems to be charging it with some kind of energy. At first there’s nothing but then they can see on the other side is the familiar thick woods of the Angelbark Forest.

Ulorian turns to them, his back muscles straining with the physical and magical effort. “I can’t hold this for long. Run!”

Mace is the first one through, followed closely by Igrainne. BB and Pieni say a few words in parting, which allows Merla the chance for her to pull out something from her satchel.

“Merla, we must leave quickly!” Astra insists, pushing her mistress in the back with her head.

“I know! But I want to give them this-”

She pulls out a small glass sphere, says the Sylvan words for light and life; it begins to float between her and the Archfey.

“May it be a light in the darkness, and guide you to better times with love and hope.”

As she turns to go, Ulorian looks at her and says, “You need to find-”

There’s a sudden flash of light and a bolt of lightning strikes the River King. Merla is stopping, starting to turn back, but Astra is pulling her onward to the other side, to their home, disobeying her mental commands to help them. Then she blinks and Ulorian is gone.

She isn’t aware of her arrival back in the Angelbark. She isn’t aware of the moaning and groaning coming from the smoke creature they faced before, and seeing the cracks of light in its form that destroy it utterly. Merla is in some kind of shocked state. That is the second Archfey she has seen killed in front of her and both times she has been helpless to do anything to stop it. It did not matter that it wasn’t their Ulorian, she was still utterly shaken.

“You need to find-”

He had tried to warn her about something. Or someone? But who? Or what?

BB says from somewhere behind her, “I think the danger’s over.”

“Is it?”

Merla feels the others stop and look at her.

“They tried to tell me something as I went through, but-” her voice catches and she cannot keep speaking.

Igrainne’s frown is full of concern, “What did he say?”

“‘You need to find-’” Merla gestures to the open air, emphasising the incomplete sentence. “And then they were killed.”

There is a drawn out moment of shocked silence. Mace is the first one to recover.

“If it’s any consolation, whatever happened in their timeline or universe, it did not happen here. Whatever he had to say, was it really of significance for us?” the tiefling questions.

“Well, their universe was leaking into ours,” Igrainne points out.

“The fact that we were pulled from here over to there is concerning enough,” Merla starts. “If something can do that to us, who’s to say someone clever and powerful wouldn’t figure out a way to come over here. Who’s to say their Queen of Air and Darkness won’t stop once she has fully corrupted the Feywild of that universe?”

“Wait,” Igrainne turns to Merla, “do we know if it’s truly random or being done on purpose?”

Merla studies the ranger before responding. “I used to not really believe in Fate. But having met her myself-” She shakes her head at the memories as a prickle goes down her back. “Everything happens for a reason. You do not mess with Fate. Those who try find out the hard way what it’s like when you do.”

“What does this have to do with fate?” Pieni asks, puzzled.

Merla opens her arms wide, the gesture encapsulating everything they’ve just been through. “This was not random. Someone is trying to mess with the Weave.”

They all to their varying degrees, look at least a little uncomfortable with that thought.

BB comes up beside Merla. “It is definitely a sign that something is happening,” she agrees.

Merla doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. As someone once said, there is always gonna be something. She just hopes she can be strong enough to protect the people and the places she loves.

---

Kruxeral brushed a lazy hand across Merla’s skin, and she shivered in delight. The sudden flare of notes that dashed through her mind made her close her eyes in peaceful bliss. There was no doubt that this was the timeline she belonged to, the one where everything was maybe not perfect, but close enough to it.

They had flown back swiftly to Daring Heights in order to pass on what she and the others had learned to Aurelia. But the council woman had been distracted. It was when speaking with Philip afterwards that Merla found out Aurelia had just spoken with a party who had gone to Mechanus on a job – only to have briefly spotted Jack, the Hexadrone who was once a prisoner of Queen Sarastra. She wasn’t able to find out more than that but the sighting of one of the ones she suspected to be one of the ones behind the previous Twilight Queen’s demise was not something to be taken lightly.

Still, she had her own more pressing matters to deal with, namely assuring herself that her Mother had not been overtaken by the corrupted Summer Spirit, that the Summer Court was not destroyed.

And it wasn’t. Queen Titania might have been a bit curious to see her daughter so attentive – more so than usual – but upon hearing the story of what happened, she chose to spend that evening with Merla and the two had a lovely time playing games and even catching up on other court gossip.

Merla leans into Kruxeral’s touch and he opens his arms to catch her reclining body, the branches of the golden oak tree overhead dappling them both in muted shadows. They had chosen to have a picnic outside of Perihelion for once, wanting to have the day to themselves, but also for a bit of privacy. There were a few lingering thoughts Merla wanted to ask him but knew there would be few places within the walls of the star citadel that would allow for truly private conversation.

She looks up at him and Kruxeral smiles down at her, brushing her hair back to better see her face. Merla hesitates for a moment, debating if now is the right time to talk about what she wants.

“I want to ask you something,” she starts, “but I know it could be something that you might not want to talk about. So if I ask you this question and you don’t want to answer me right now I would understand.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s not foreboding at all,” he chuckles.

Merla sits up and turns to face him. Taking his hand, she holds onto it gently, brushing her calloused fingers across the warm, honey toned skin of the back of his hand.

“What are your thoughts and feelings towards my mother?”

She looks up. Kruxeral tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow even as he half smiles. “Is this a test of loyalty perhaps?”

Merla shakes her head. “No it’s not.” She tries another way. “I told you the event that happened that set you down the path to hearing the Unseelie Song – the deal I made with her; giving part of my Song to my mother in order to go to the Material Plane. As you have seen, and as I have proven, my being there is not permanent. But the fact remains that she still has that part of me.” Merla squeezes his hand a little. “With everything that has happened, with everything you have gone through… are you okay with, or supportive of, or even want to follow Queen Titania despite all of that?”

Kruxeral takes a carefully measured breath as he looks at Merla. After a beat, he looks down to their entwined hands and gently pulls his free from hers. Merla does her best to squash the worry that bolts through her.

“You certainly do a lot of worrying about these sorts of things,” Kruxeral says. He looks out at the rolling emerald hills, breathing in more than the fragrant air. The wind brushes through his horns, lifting his hair, and he closes his eyes in momentary contentment. When he opens them, the playfulness is gone and what replaces it is unbridled guilt.

“I know I have betrayed the Court. I might not have all the pieces but those that are there tell me that, clear as these skies. I am not the same fey I was then, but…”

Kruxeral doesn’t finish that sentence. Instead, his hand clenches into a fist and he finds it difficult to swallow as shame tries to consume him.

“It’s indescribable, this pain,” he puts his clenched hand on his chest, “this hurt. Knowing I’ve done something terrible, understanding some of the reasons I did it but not all of them.” Kruxeral turns to look at her. There are tears in his eyes. “I do not blame you, Merla. No, the fault is in me. But I am working on it, I swear to you I am.”

Merla feels tears rising to her eyes too. Kruxeral takes a deep breath, holds it and then lets it go.

“That is why I distance myself more and more each day from the fey I was, so I can become the fey I believe myself to be.”

He suddenly stands up and holds out the hand that was over his heart. Merla takes it and with a swoop, Kruxeral pulls her towards him. In a whirl of wind and flower petals he is leading her through a dance. They spin, twirl, leap and somersault all around the golden oak until they come back to where they started, their soft blanket cushioning their steps. Kruxeral’s hands hold her close and their hearts beat a syncopated rhythm.

“So, arael’salif*, does my answer assuage your worries?” he asks, once again brushing back the hair from her face to better see the light it carries.

Merla cups his face in her hands, rising up on tiptoes to bring herself even closer to Kruxeral.

“It does. I understand it has not been easy for you. I just…”

The words trail off as Kruxeral closes the gap between their lips, opening his mouth to let her in, just as he has let her in to know this truth.

“You wanted to make sure I was ‘alright’ as the mortals say, is that it?” Kruxeral asks, a soft, teasing smile on his lips.

The tips of her ears turn pink. “Perhaps that may have been my reasoning.”

He chuckles and kisses her again.

Jealousy, as it turns out, had been the cause of more than one fey of the Summer Court bending an ear to the Unseelie Song. It gave Merla a small spark of hope that maybe – just maybe – there could be a chance for those who walk on the dark and destructive path of the Unseelie to change. It would not be an easy journey, and there would undoubtedly be some that would not want to turn back. Like Arvel, who even in death, spoke of the glory that would come to the fey who followed the Monarch That Was-

“OHMYSTARS!”

Merla’s sudden outburst startles Kruxeral. He whips around, hand falling to his pan pipes as he positions himself to protect her.

“What? What is it?” he asks, looking around them, the hair on his goat legs bristling as he prepares to cast a spell. When Merla doesn’t answer he turns back around to see her hands up by her head and an all too familiar look of dawning realisation lighting her blue and gold eyes.

“By the stars Merla, I thought we were being attacked by how you reacted!” Kruxeral huffs, putting his pan pipes away.

“The Monarch That Was. Arvel took his orders from her! Starlight above, I am such an idiot!”

Merla begins pacing.

“Merla, slow down. What is this about Arvel and the Monarch That Was?” Something tickles at the back of Kruxeral’s mind, but he dismisses it.

“I asked Roxane if she had seen Lady Alanaya in the Winter Court after she had been ‘rescued’ from the then Court of Glory. It was then I found out from Lord Emmantiensien that Alanaya had been, at some point in the past, Queen Titania’s Oberon – for several seasons.”

“Okay.” He is not sure where she was going with this but he stays with her.

“She eventually lost the title and power because my mother chose someone else to be her Oberon – as is her right as Queen and is her prerogative as a fey – it is all part of the ritual. But when my mother chose someone else, Alanaya became jealous. Those who were around then started calling her the Monarch that Was.”

Realisation dawns on Kruxeral’s face. “Oh my stars…” Merla sees it and drives the point home.

“It was Alanaya who gave Arvel the Cloak of Many Feathers – who then gave it to me.”

A dark shadow passes over Kruxeral’s face. “If I ever see that prima donna again-… Wait. You said Roxane saw her in Winter? Could she still be there?”

Merla shakes her head. “I doubt it. She had no purpose in the Winter Court after the Ascension. They would not keep her.” Merla finally stops pacing and looks out across the Lands of Summer. “But wherever she is, she had best count herself lucky.”

“Oh?” Kruxeral asks, coming up beside her.

“The moment I find out where she is, Alanaya is going to wish she had never used me as a pawn against my mother.”


*arael’salif – Heartsong (said to someone you love)