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A Fallen Faerie - Fyora's Tear: Part One


by epiclittleboss

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Fifteen years. Fifteen years ago it happened. So long ago, but the memory felt fresh in Fyora's mind. How did it come to this? She felt so alone, so empty, so sad. So grey were her days, despite the sunshine. So cold, so bitter, despite the smiles of her people. But she didn't want their smiles. She wanted only one smile, but that was impossible. Impossible to get from that one person.

      Fyora leaned back in her chair, gazing at her study. Even though it was a cozy little room, filled with her books and notes, little trinkets, it seemed empty. Like her heart. There was a knock at the door. She looked toward it, deliberating if she should let that person enter. Better if she did.

      "Come in," she said, her usually bright and happy voice sounding lost and empty. The door creaked open, showing a water faerie. She had long, sandy-blond hair pinned with a coral pink seashell, bright blue eyes, and a gleaming turquoise tail, with elegant, almost see-through fins. It was Trinity, one of Fyora's closest friends. One of Fyora's true sisters.

      "Here you are, Milady," burbled Trinity, placing a tray laden with tea, cream, and sugar on her desk. "Perhaps a bit of tea might cheer you up," she said, brushing back a lock of thick curly hair. Fyora nodded. Trinity gazed at Fyora, taking in her violet hair and dress, her magenta eyes. "It her, isn't it?" she asked, her musical voice getting softer. Fyora nodded once more. It was her, it was Xandra. Trinity sighed. She looked up to Queen Fyora sadly. She could feel her pain. "Milady, please. I know of your feelings for her. But please, think of the hurt she has caused you. The pain she has caused to the world." said Trinity, as she left the room, using water magic to swim through the air. Fyora spoke up however, just before she left.

      "Trinity. Is it wrong... is it wrong to blame myself for what has happened?" she asked, her voice breaking at the end. Trinity was silent for a long moment, taking in what she said.

      "Some might not say so. I don't blame you for what happened. If anything, I would blame The Great Evil for leading her astray," Trinity finished. It made sense, but Fyora still blamed herself. She waited for Trinity to leave. She did blame herself. 'If not for me, would this have happened? If I had not intervened that time ago. If I had not taught her about the faeries, had not shown her the secrets of the world. Would she still be evil? Maybe. Maybe so.

      She picked up her cup, white porcelain with a yellow Faellie etched in, that gleamed in the candle light of her study. She poured the tea, watched the steam slowly curl up, like misty fingers. She stared into the dark brown liquid. She felt tears well up in her eyes, a lone tear rolling down her face, dripping into the tea, making a tiny ripple. She set the tea down, the cup rattling slightly in the saucer. Fyora sighed shakily.

      It was happening again. Every year, this day, this dreadful day, it happened. These feelings, that emanated from Fyora's heart, making her ache and shake from emotion. She thought back fifteen years, to that horrid day...

      It was the Faerie Festival, one of the most magical days of the year. Faeries from all the corners of Neopia would visit Faerieland, to rejoice in each other's company. Fyora had planned it this year, to be extravagant, more magical than years of past, one festival that would blow the others out of the water. She had woken early that day, and with the help of her sisters, she began to prepare. Delina, with her spiky purple hair and tinker-like outfit, had very graciously constructed a huge gazebo, one with large enough proportions to cover dozens upon dozens of faeries, of all kinds. Making streamers of magic, she decorated. Soon it was decked out, even better than she had expected, and her excitement was seeping into the air. And soon, all the faeries from the world came. Taelia with her furry coat from Terror Mountain, Jhuidah from Mystery Island, carrying the scent of tropical fruit and flowers. Illusen from Meridell, beaming as always. Even Jhudora came, promising to be on her best behavior. Everything would be perfect, plenty of food, excitement, and gift giving. Nothing could go wrong. At least, that is what Fyora thought.

      It had been perfect, not a care in the world. Fyora would greet and smile, watching her sisters mingle and laugh. She saw Trinity swim toward her, the air bending and curving to allow her to glide fluidly through the air.

      "Hello, Queen Fyora!" she exclaimed, her blond hair rippling as she floated. Fyora grinned back.

      "Hello, Trinity, I do hope you like the festival!" she said, an air of pride ringing through her voice. Trinity nodded vigorously, her long tail swishing in the air slightly.

      "Oh yes, you did a magnificent job your majesty, simply fantastic!" she congratulated, eyes shining bright. "But, if I may ask, where is Xandra? She always comes to the festival," asked Trinity, her youthful face shifting into a puzzled one. Fyora nodded. Even though Xandra had come to the Faerie Festival in years past, she always left early, claiming the noise and excitement were a bit too much for her.

      "Oh, Xandra is back at her home in the Haunted Woods today; she said she left a tool she needed there. But she did promise to be back later," said Queen Fyora, her voice smooth and reassuring.

      And it continued on, the Faerie Festival, so many faeries together, the magic was thick in the air, almost intoxicating. And Fyora was enjoying herself, which she didn't do often, the responsibilities as a queen often prohibited that. But this was the one day a year she got to relax, to act the way she wanted. To be care-free. And she acted care-free, smiling and curtsying.

      It had been half-way into the Faerie Festival when it had happened. When that flash happened. That horrible, blinding white-hot flash of light. But it had happened so fast, Fyora didn't even have time to change expressions. She had been in the middle of a curtsy, her hand spreading out the skirt of her dress, and a elegant smile on her face. Then the flash.

      She couldn't move. Not an inch. She had been frozen. She could still see, hear, and feel. But she couldn't move. It was if... she was a statue. Something rock hard and icy cold covered her smooth skin. And it held her immobile. She was a statue! But while the granite held her physical body immobile, her mind and magic was free to move around. She at first tried to break loose, but the magic, the magic and rock was too strong. It was strengthened not only by strong magic, but a force that felt acidic. It was hate, sheer hate. She was trapped and she couldn't move. But she could use her eyes to see what was wrong.

      No. No, it couldn't be. Everyone, all the faeries. Stone. All of them, all of them turned to stone. All of them frozen, in the middle of whatever they had been doing. And she could almost here her sisters screams and protests, the forces of magic trying to break the boundaries. But it was useless.

      "Sisters, please, save your power. We may need it for later. For now we wait for our savior," she said to herself, pushing the thought to her sister. Soon, they quieted down. But who would save them? But, they waited. It was hours before they heard a noise. Then Fyora saw a figure. It was a red Kyrii, a man. She recognized him! It was King Jazan! He walked up to the faeries, his face in absolute shock.

      "King Jazan! King Jazan, do you hear me!? Please help us!" screamed Fyora, hoping her voice would be projected to his mind. But to no prevail, it felt as if there was a huge wall, blocking her voice. She continued to shriek and scream, hoping that maybe, he would hear, even if her voice was a nonexistent whisper. But he didn't hear. He just kept circling them, whispering, "Who would do this?" Then there was a scuffling sound. He whipped around, looking for the intruder. His golden eyes narrowed, and with a smooth sweeping motion of his hand, he became invisible.

      A blue Ixi, a thief defiantly by his clothing: a trench coat, baggy cargo pants, and a dagger hanging loosely on his right hip. His expression was similar to Jazan's. Extreme shock.

      "Who would do this to the Faeries? What kind of person--" he paused, his hazel eyes widening in pleasure. "--Well, hello, what do we have here?" he said, smirking. He sauntered over to Fyora, looking her up and down. Then he reached up to her neck.

      "Shame. This necklace is rock," he said, obvious disappointment in his voice. Then he noticed the bag of jewels that had been placed by Fyora's feet. He grinned, from ear to ear as he kneeled. He began to dig through, stuffing his pockets. Then his ear twitched as he heard voices. He dropped the now empty bag and jumped behind Fyora, bending and curving his body to conform to hers.

      But the strangest thing. As his body brushed against Fyora's own stone one, she felt something. A stirring. The thief. He wasn't an average thief. She could feel his strength, his will. He was different. Fyora knew. He would be their savior. He would be the one to save the faeries, somehow, someway.

To be continued...

 
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