The Cost of Loyalty: Part One

     My voice wavered as I addressed the Faerie Queen, and I twiddled my thumbs as I focused on the pink and violet tiles of the throne room as though they would speak to me and give me some kind of reassurance. After all, what I was about to tell her was not good news... not at all.

     “What is it, Lyra?” Fyora asked. “Are you all right?” She reached out and rested a hand on my shoulder. It helped, but not so much.

     I glanced up and looked deep into her eyes, pools of benevolence that I did not deserve to look into when I was the bearer of bad tidings.

     “You won’t like what I have to say, Your Highness.”

     “Why not?”

     I braced myself, taking a deep breath before speaking.

     “The Wingshadow Seers are gathering at midnight tonight to see into the future.”

     * * *

     There were two reasons why I thought that this situation wasn’t good. One – these were faeries who didn’t care about Fyora at best, and secretly worked against her at worst. Two – I knew that I would be tasked to go there as the queen’s eyes and ears, whether I liked it or not. I didn’t like spying very much, and I didn’t want them to find out that I was now the queen’s personal attendant.

     Those who believed that all dark faeries were evil probably got on the Wingshadows’ bad side at least once; they were among the worst, if not the worst.

     And I hated them. More importantly, I hated being one of them and being associated with them.

     I got my chance to escape when the clan was divided into two, and both sides waged war on each other. It was a very terrible battle, and before I could flee, I was caught in the chaos and injured. Nobody took much notice of me as I tried to get away from everything; they probably thought I was about to die, or really didn’t see me.

     It was Fyora who saved me, and in return, I became her personal attendant. And to this day, the Wingshadows, united once more, had no idea where I was now, or if I was even still alive... at least, that’s what it seemed.

     “You look familiar,” said Zeithe, eyeing me suspiciously. “Have we met? Are you one of us?”

     “Yes,” I said quickly, knowing that any hesitation could get me in serious trouble. I remembered Zeithe from my childhood, and wondered if she still stayed out of scrapes especially with the more anti-Fyora faeries. “I’m Aryl, one of Sera’s daughters... I usually live around the outskirts of the Haunted Woods, but got the call.”

     “The call” was the Wingshadows’ way of summoning us when it was time to see into the future. The leaders, always the most clairvoyant among us, sometimes had to invite others to help them decipher their visions. The ones they invited were usually other seers who weren’t as well-versed in the Sight, and even those who only had little of it.

     Some of my ancestors were diviners, but I didn’t inherit much in terms of the Sight. It wasn’t enough for me to predict anything on my own or see much, but it was enough for me to be summoned.

     “Sera... oh yeah, she’s got a really big family. You think you know everyone from her line, and then more of them show up. Oh, Kiela and the rest of the Council are here.”

     “Kiela?”

     “How long have you been away anyway, Aryl? Kiela is the head of the Wingshadow Council now!”

     Luckily, I was saved from answering – even if it was more of a rhetorical question. The dark cave in which we were gathered was now alight with a fervent amethyst glow, and we began to form a circle. Zeithe pointed to a very prominent dark faerie standing in the middle who wore a sleek robe patterned with black wings.

     This faerie, with flowing hair and piercing eyes, had an air of superiority, and was one who would either be respected or feared.

     “Welcome, my sisters,” Kiela greeted us. Her voice was loud and clear, magnified by the wand of purple crystals she pointed to her throat. It was also cold, like frozen wind chimes, and gave me the chills – and the feeling that she was up to no good. Then again, many of the Wingshadows were always up to no good.

     “Midnight looms before us, the witching hour when we may use our combined Sight to see the future. We cannot decipher our visions on our own, and have thus enlisted your help. Now, let us gather closer, and chant the song of the Sight.”

     We did as we were told as Kiela melted into the circle herself, and she and the rest of the Council raised their wands.

     ”Powers of darkness, heed our plea

     The future we seek, we want to see.

     Wingshadows, let us use our Sight

     And magnify it with all our might

     Decipher shadows, read our visions

     That, tonight, is our mission.”

     Already I could feel the strange magic of the Sight coursing through me as we held hands and the Council touched wands, making the circle tighter and smaller. Our powers melded together, and we were all conduits, working together to harness the Sight and use it to see... well, whatever there was to see. Neither Kiela nor the other chief seers - who stayed silent; apparently she was their mouthpiece – said anything about what we were going to see.

     First, we sensed the magic. Then we saw it take form as ribbons of violet light looped through our joined hands and arms; warm, but not uncomfortably so. Thin strands pulled away from us, joining in the middle and forming what looked like a glowing whirlwind that spun and spun, surging upward and into a slowly growing wide window over our heads. We gazed up at it, watching as purple turned into many different colors, creating a scene.

     And then I was part of that scene.

     I didn’t see anyone else with me, but I knew we were all experiencing it – entering the window and setting foot into what felt like another world. My feet touched polished lilac tiles; it was as if our cave was suddenly transformed into a beautiful yet somehow familiar antechamber. The pillars were made of pink marble, and the vast hallways were immaculate...

     I was in the Faerie Palace.

     I began to walk, letting the power of the Sight guide me. I felt like a puppet on strings, strolling down the corridor that I knew would lead to the throne room. When I got to the ornate double doors, they were flung open. But behind them wasn’t Queen Fyora.

     A stranger sat on the throne, clad in black, the hood hiding his – or her face completely. Somehow, I knew this was no faerie, not Fyora at all.

     “Faerieland is mine!” he – the voice was male – bellowed. “I am King of Faerieland! You will all bow before me!”

     An invisible hand pushed my back and forced me to my knees.

     “Kneel before your overlord!” A shapeless blob of golden mist formed over his head and turned into a crown as he pointed to me and laughed evilly. Shadows danced behind him, but he took no notice of them. I wanted to do something, to get the usurper off the throne, but this was only a premonition, and I wouldn’t be able to interfere.

     His laughter died away when the double doors burst open.

     Countless faeries, Neopets and even petpets stampeded into the throne room, and the air was filled with war cries. Many of them were from Fyora’s army, identified by the emblems on their uniforms, but foremost was a young Blumaroo clad in metal armor. He waved his sword high as he charged toward the usurper, everyone else close behind. I could barely make out his color – yellow or white, probably more yellow – but his face was unrecognizable, not anyone I ever met or heard of before.

     A one-sided battle began, and I almost felt sorry for the one who had the nerve to sit on Fyora’s throne – almost.

     Then the entire scene vanished in a blaze of colors and sounds melding together. I heard the clash of blades and an explosion before I found myself in the cave once again, huddled with the rest of the Wingshadows, who were now whispering eagerly about what they had seen.

     “So someone will try to steal Fyora’s throne?”

     “But when?”

     “Who knows? This is the problem with prophecies – they’re never totally exact.”

     “Did you see that Blumaroo? He’s the only one I could actually recognize... sort of.”

     “I don’t know who he is, do you?”

     “Maybe he’s not born yet or something.”

     “I was hoping we could find him and make sure he doesn’t keep that guy from unseating Fyora.”

     “Yeah, she’s been sitting there for so long, I’m surprised her behind isn’t sore!”

     “Right now, I really don’t care who pushes Fyora off, as long as he – or she – does the job.”

     “I’m pretty sure it’s a he.”

     “You never know!”

     I kept quiet, fearful that I might blurt out something in Fyora’s defense and be discovered, especially around the more rebellious faeries – like Kiela, who, I noticed, was very outspoken about her hatred for the Faerie Queen. Instead, I listened to as many conversations as I could like a good spy, nodding or shrugging when I had to. Eventually, I began to hear the same questions and answers, and took that as my cue to leave.

     I had so much to say to Fyora, and so much more to think about.

     * * *

     “I see.”

     After shooing everyone else from the throne room, raising all the protective wards that kept eavesdroppers and spies at bay and listening to everything I had to say about the Wingshadow Prophecy, “I see” was all Fyora had to say.

     “Highness, aren’t you... scared?” I asked hesitantly. It was an odd question; what did the Queen of Faerieland have to fear? And yet... despite the fact that prophecies were never, ever fully set in stone...

     “I have faced my share of enemies ever since I sat upon this throne,” she began. “Many have desired to take my crown and rule in my stead, and time and time again I have managed to hold my own, with much help from my loyal followers... and you, Lyra.” She placed her hand on my head, and I felt very much like an ignorant schoolgirl. “I am not surprised that the Wingshadows have predicted this tonight.

     “As for those involved in the prophecy... I am as clueless as you are. Right now, I don’t know anyone who would want to unseat me, and the Blumaroo and those following him could be anyone, even anyone outside Faerieland. Right now, we can’t do anything except be on our guard, which we have done for years. Prophecies may give us a peek into the future, but more often than not it only raises more questions instead of answering those we already have.”

     I nodded absently, twisting the hem of my blouse.

     “Thank you for being my spy, Lyra. You did this at great personal risk – you could have been discovered tonight passing your clan’s prophecy to me.”

     “They’re not my clan,” I pointed out defiantly and quickly adding, “My lady. You and everyone here at the Faerie Palace are my clan now, and it’s all thanks to you. I’m forever grateful that you took me in, despite some of your comrades saying that I could never belong here. They took back everything they said about me, but I wish more people realized that not all dark faeries are bad.”

     Fyora smiled. “I know. You are dismissed. We won’t discuss any of this outside or share it with anyone else until the right time comes. As for when that will be... we’ll find out when it is upon us.”

     “Yes, your Majesty.”

To be continued...