Fyora's Final Hope for the Altador Cup

     She stared in disbelief for a long second before letting out an exasperated sigh.

     “Seriously?! Nothing back again?” she groaned. This was the second team that hadn’t responded to her about this year’s upcoming Altador Cup.

     She had spent the last year trying to keep Neopia from falling apart while more and more of it turned grey and continued to be eaten by a literal void… Casual. Nevermind the endless, near-daily meetings with her Council of Leaders. Those she could manage. The worst part was when none of them could agree because that meant it was her job to find the compromise, her job to be the glue that brought everyone back together for the sake of Neopia.

     One example is when Nyx and Juni barged into the meeting room, infected by the Void Essence. What a frenzy that was! A few of her Council Leaders started making such a fuss, and it was Fyora who had to call upon Luxinia the Light Faerie to convince her disagreeing Council that Luxinia’s unique powers could help shed some light on what had caused the mysterious infection in the first place.

     At the very least, she thought to herself, reminiscing on that particular disaster had reinforced her ability to think fast and be an efficient problem solver under pressure. Plus, as drained as she was from everything over the last year, she still couldn’t bear the thought of shirking her royal responsibilities and letting things get any worse than they already were.

     She was exhausted, yes, but did she really have it as bad as the rest of Neopia? Brightvale, Meridell, Kiko Lake, and Neopia Central were all completely grey, still under siege by the strange Void Essences that continued to attack their citizens. Hospitals were overwhelmed. Volunteers were stretched thin. Families were displaced, leaving children to wander the grey streets. To this day, the condition has only improved slightly. The damage was, and still is, completely devastating. Leading the recovery efforts alongside King Altador sometimes felt impossible, but it was nothing compared to the countless losses that the citizens of Neopia were facing.

     Now there were reports of Vira and the Grey Painter heading toward Altador… directly toward the Hall of Heroes, where her Council continues to meet. Fyora had a deep, sinking feeling that this was no coincidence. The citizens of Altador seemed to know it too. There were already whispers spreading throughout the city. Shopkeepers were preparing to close up shop, leaving the once busy town squares looking like more of a ghost town, Altadorians coming out of their homes less and less often. It broke her heart to see the good people of this city living in fear of what was to come.

     Which is why, as a last-ditch effort to keep some semblance of hope alive (not just in Altador, but across all of Neopia), she decided that she would not allow the Altador Cup to be canceled, as the Games Committee had originally suggested. No. Instead, she would simply adapt it to fit the changing… atmosphere.

     Fyora had dutifully pulled out her finest parchment and quill. Just as she had called upon Neopian leaders to gather in the Hall of Heroes, forming the original Council after Meridell turned grey, she now wrote a new set of letters. This time, they were addressed to all nineteen Altador Cup team captains, imploring them to bring their teams to Altador for an alternative celebration. One that she could still pull off, even with the city’s impending grey-ness.

     In each letter, she explained that yes, the Altador Cup was still on, but instead of the traditional Yooyuball tournament, which was far too risky given the ongoing attacks and the looming arrival of Vira and the Grey Painter, she had taken it upon herself to come up with a safer way to celebrate. The event would last nineteen days, one day for each of the nineteen teams, and would still include all of the fanfare and the prize shop she knew Neopians loved so dearly. She knew, deep in her heart, that not only would this keep hope alive, it would also remind Neopia that they could fight back. That they could still win.

     She took a deep breath. Trying to talk herself down was proving to be a difficult task today. She was one more unanswered letter away from grabbing a Grey Paint Brush and turning herself into a commemorative prize for the Cup. Maybe a good scream-cry would do the trick. But no, she had to finish planning. The Altador Cup was only a few days away at this point, and she was still finalizing prizes. And despite sending two additional letters already, she was still waiting on responses from Maraqua and Kiko Lake.

     “No wonder they never win the Cup…” she muttered to herself. “Speed clearly isn’t their strong suit.”

     Fyora exhaled slowly, this time making a conscious effort to actually steady herself. She had to give them some grace, she reminded herself. Kiko Lake was completely grey, and Maraqua, being one of the only other underwater lands, was busy sending their citizens to help volunteer at Kiko Lake’s hospitals. Of course responding to a letter about the Altador Cup wouldn’t be their first priority. For all she knew, both teams could have the majority of their players working volunteer hospital shifts right now.

     “Oh no,” she muttered to herself. “Am I an awful Faerie for pulling potential volunteers away from their lands during a time like this?” Her question hung in the air, feeling heavier than she expected. She chewed on the thought for a moment longer, the guilt growing in her like a living thing. Each team was composed of five players. Just five. This was bigger than just The Cup. This was about boosting morale across Neopia. About reminding everyone that something good still existed. If she could pull this off, it could shift the tide - however small - and give Neopian citizens a reason to keep going. For an outcome like that, for a cause bigger than any of them, she could spare five players per team.

     She gave herself a small nodd, shaky but genuine, as an interval vote of confidence.

     “Only two teams left, Fy,” she whispered. “Just two more to convince, and this year’s Altador Cup is on. You can do this.”

     She sat back down at her desk, pushing aside scattered maps and battle plans. With care, she pulled out two fresh sheets of parchment.These would be her third and final letters to Kiko Lake and Maraqua, respectively. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if they didn’t respond. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she’d have it in her to try again. But hope was the only option left, and Fyora had always been especially stubborn when it came to hope.

     Hands shaking, she dipped her quill into the ink and lowered it to the page. This quill had once signed peace treaties… now it shook under the weight of her desperation. She squared her shoulders, more out of habit than any real strength, and began to write:

     Altador Cup: The Grey Year

     The End.