Blessing: Part Four
The Fire Faerie Diabella rushed into the grand chambers
of Fyora the Faerie Queen. "There are visitors here with an urgent message!" she
cried and before Fyora could reply, Allara and Mi Toria were ushered hastily into
the grand chambers.
"Mi Toria," Fyora said, sadness immediately evident
in her tone. Her regal countenance was suddenly stricken with grief. She knew
that the Miamouse would not have returned without Yailwin unless the Air Faerie
had met a bitter end. "And who is this that you have brought into my house?"
Allara stared blankly at the most powerful ruler
in Neopia. Her mouth hung agape as she shrank away, awestruck by the magnificence
of the being that stood before her.
"This is Allara," Mi Toria responded, indicating
that Allara should step forward. When no movement was forthcoming however, she
added, "she battled Bayoragan before my very eyes and lives to tell the tale."
Fyora's expression softened somewhat at that.
"Is this true, Allara?"
The Acara knew she was being spoken to, yet it
still took all of her willpower to shake away the amazement that had temporarily
rendered her immobile and inaudible.
"Ye-yes," she croaked at long last. "It is a
pleasure to meet you, Lady Fyora!"
"The pleasure is mine," Fyora purred soothingly,
trying to calm the overly excited youth. "So, Bayoragan attacked you and she
has already bested Yailwin. She must be gaining power. It will not be long before
that tainted demon makes her move against Faerieland. We must quickly plan for
such an attack."
If only Fyora had known just how close Bayoragan
was to her precious kingdom of Faerieland. The Fallen Faerie alighted weightlessly
at the borders of the cloud that buoyed Faerieland above the rest of the Neopia
and quickly made her way towards Faerie City.
Her powers had grown tenfold since her encounter
with the pathetic Acara whelp. She would make sure that the pathetic Neopian
suffered a terrible fate before she, the great Bayoragan, ended Fyora's rule.
A wicked smile crossed her face at that thought,
causing the fires in her eyes to burst to life. The Queen of Faeries would soon
bow before the power of Bayoragan. She would be crowned ruler of the most powerful
force in Neopia. She would be a god!
Fyora sat gracefully upon her throne, her legs
crossed delicately before her, her eyes fixated upon the entrance to her Hidden
Scouts had brought her news of Bayoragan's breaching
of the city walls. More than a dozen of her finest Battle Faeries had fallen
to blades of fire the Fallen Faerie could summon at will. The former Champion
of Faerieland had grown far too powerful over the long years since she had been
banished. The time had come to put her tainted spirit to rest.
All along the sides of the grand chambers, Faeries
representing each of the elements stood, awaiting Bayoragan's arrival, looks
of fear twisting their normally beautiful visages.
Mi Toria and Allara stood, hidden away behind
Fyora's throne. Hidden from direct conflict, should it arise.
"Be at the ready," Fyora warned. There was not
a note of fear in her voice as she calmly gave the order. Her supreme confidence
helped to buoy the sinking spirits of her fellows and soon all the Faeries in
the grand chambers had looks of grim determination etched upon their faces.
Sensing a presence so foul that the very air
in the room grew thick with malignancy, Fyora rose to her feet. "She comes!"
the Faerie Queen cried as the two-foot thick iron-barred tower doors exploded
inward, blasting debris around the grand chamber.
At the same moment, the Faerie army gathered
in the chamber burst into a flurry of motion. Fire Faeries let blasts of flame
erupt from their fingertips, while Air Faeries circled on high sending miniature
twisters into the gaping doorway. Earth Faeries pummelled the ground, sending
tremors rippling across the chambers floor while Light and Dark Faeries blasted
Bayoragan with a myriad of blazing attacks.
From amidst the chaos, Allara heard a sound she
knew all too well: the laughter of the Fallen Faerie. It echoed through the
hall like a rolling thunder, bringing fear to the hearts of even the bravest
of the Battle Faeries.
"I do not come here to face your army of worthless
pawns, Fyora!" the Tainted One screamed. The sound was so hollow and lifeless
that Allara thought she might die right then and there, while Mi Toria buried
her tiny head against the Acara's thickly furred shoulder.
Allara peered out from behind the chair and there,
at the centre of a cloud of debris, steam, and swirling smoke, two massive burning
blades burst to life from thin air.
With flicking wrists Bayoragan batted members
of the Faerie army from side to side. They hopelessly ducked and dodged the
whirling blades but their end was certain. Bayoragan was invincible.
"Enough," cried Fyora, her voice ringing clear
and true above the dull roar of battle. A single note so pure and perfect that
even Bayoragan stopped momentarily, stunned by the power and tone of the Queen's
She strode forward towards the hulking abomination.
The taint had twisted Bayoragan's form so horribly that she could no longer
be recognized for her former glory. She was nothing more than a humanoid monstrosity,
forged of fetid flesh and with twisting wings that seemed more like black clouds
than anything of substance.
Yet her aura paled in comparison to that of the
greatest Queen Neopia had ever known. Fyora was the most powerful being on the
planet, or so it was said.
Holding her hands out at her sides, Fyora began
to chant. Her singsong voice echoing around the great chambers, shattering the
windows with her pure, powerful tune.
Oh hali timpa,
She sang the verse again and again, the volume
of her voice increasing each time she started it. Bayoragan looked horrified
as she faced her former Queen. But she was far too powerful now to be overcome
by a simple spell alone. Fyora would die before she could banish Bayoragan again
from the world! Drawing forth her blades she lunged straight towards the Faerie
Queen's delicate body.
There was no way Fyora could dodge the deadly
attack in time. She would sacrifice herself in order to restore peace to Neopia.
Suddenly a blast of light from the far end of
the chamber halted the path of his blades, driving between them and cutting
a path straight through the center of Bayoragan's twisted form, protecting Fyora
from the wrath of the Fallen Faerie.
The Tainted One howled. A mix of rage and agony
as the light began to tear away at her very being. She forced her eyes to look
through the blinding ray of pure energy and there, at its source, stood the
And all the while, Fyora continued her mystical
Allara's mind was focussed on only one thing
once more. Courage. Her body shook as tremors of magical energy exploded from
her, intensifying the powerful ray of light that erupted from the very essence
of her pure and delicate form.
Suddenly, Fyora's chant ceased. Bayoragan's howls
abruptly halted as well. And Allara slipped into unconsciousness, exhausted
from the drain of maintaining her spell.
When she at last regained consciousness, Allara
found herself alone, resting upon silken sheets in a bed composed entirely of
She looked around the strange room with a mix
of awe and confusion. She had no idea what had happened since the battle against
Bayoragan, or for that matter how long she had been unconscious.
Abruptly the door to her room burst open and
Allara's mother strode into the room, Mi Toria and then Fyora, Queen of Faeries
following close behind.
"How?" Allara mouthed, still not strong enough
to speak after her incredible exertion. Though she had been unaware of her astounding
feat at the time, the tiny white Acara had maintained her spell for five long
minutes, only stopping when the sounds of Bayoragan's wailing had, at last,
"Rest, dear. Everything will be explained to
you in due time," her mother whispered, softly brushing a hand across Allara's
"Your mother was summoned to Faerieland as soon
as we could make the arrangements," Fyora added. Her presence was still overwhelming
to the young Acara, but Allara knew she could easily grow accustomed to seeing
the magnificent Faerie Queen.
Then Fyora added something that, had Allara been
standing, would have knocked her off her feet. "We couldn't have her sitting
alone on her farm while her daughter, the one who defeated Bayoragan, lay sick
"De-defeated... how?" Allara inquired, a look
of incredulity plastered across her pale visage.
"My spell alone was not enough to bring Bayoragan
to her final resting place," Fyora stated slowly, allowing the Acara to take
in each word as it was spoken. "Your powerful magic was what bested the Tainted
One." She paused, gazing fondly upon the young girl that the Faerie Queen knew
had saved her life, before adding, "Your gift is a blessing, young one."
With that, Fyora, Queen of Faeries, took her
leave of Allara.
Mi Toria leapt up on to the bed beside the exhausted
and awestricken Acara, nuzzling up against her as she had done many times before.
She handed the Air Faerie locket to Allara, who until that moment, had not even
noticed she was no longer wearing it.
Smiling softly the Miamouse pressed her face
up against Allara's ear. "Fyora says you can keep me," she whispered gleefully.
"We can be friends and travel together as soon as you're better."
Allara felt the familiar warmth of tears in her
eyes, but she was not afraid to let them slip over the soft fur of her cheeks
and she cried openly then, wrapping her arms in a tight embrace around the warm
body of the Miamouse, who squeaked happily at the show of affection.
When the long embrace ended, Mi Toria took her
leave as well. Now Allara and her mother sat alone, smiling at one another.
"You know they asked us to stay here as honorary
guests of Faerieland," her mother exclaimed, the weariness she had seen only
a few short days ago had been wiped away, replaced with the same look of joy
she remembered seeing when her father would come in from a long day in the fields.
"Would you like that, Allara?"
The Acara didn't even need to voice her answer
for it was obvious, from the gleam in her eyes, that there was nothing that
she wanted more.