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The Faerie Thief: Part Two

by pillsi


Sybille stands on the border of the Lost Desert, the wind dusting sand against her feet and the grass. Having stormed all the way to the Lost Desert, Sybille debates returning home, brushing her toe over a blade of grass that drowns pitifully in a pile of sand. Dunes glisten miles ahead of Sybille in the desert heat. Weewoos coo from scattered trees behind Sybille in the Neopian fields.

     "How I wish I could be flying with you," Sybille whimpers aloud hugging her arms over her chest.

     The soft crunch of grass sounds behind Sybille. Turning, she sees a Faerie wearing the garb of the Faerieland Knights, her tan skin smooth glistening in the sunshine, her wings a transparent gold sparkling with the glamorous power of a light Faerie.

     "I'm not going back, Elyon," Sybille pouts, turning back towards the Lost Desert before the light Faerie can utter a syllable.

     Elyon sighs. "Sybille, we have been over this a hundred times. Please just come back peacefully."


     "How many more times am I going to have to catch you running away? Sybille, there comes a time when you might just need to grow up and face the fate given you."

     "What is that supposed to mean?" Sybille spits at Elyon. "Am I simply supposed to accept that my magic is weak, my wings small? Am I just supposed to accept that all the other faeries hate me?"

     "The other faeries would not hate as much if you would just stop stealing from them!" Elyon sighs. "Sybille, I say this as your friend and as someone who cares for you. I know you love thieving but you may have to make a choice, continuing thieving and allow the darkness in your heart to grow, or give up thieving and the Faeries will accept you."

     A soft wind blows Sybille's hair off her neck. "How many more times?"

     "What do you mean?" Elyon asks.

     "How many more times are you going to do my sister's dirty work and fetch me?"

     Elyon takes a great inhale. She exhales. "As many times as my friend runs away from Faerieland." Silence fills the sky as Sybille crosses her arms over her chest.

     "Fine, let's go home," she pouts again. Elyon gives Sybille a relieved smile and places a hand on the faerie's back, guiding her back towards the fallen city.


     Clasping the dark green cloak over her body with the soft click of the leaf pin, Sybille swoops out her bedroom window and into the dead of night. Avoiding the light that radiated from the Light Faerie's bodies as they strolled by the alleyways, Sybille sneaked between the cracked buildings of Faerieland City. Within two blocks, she arrives at the Faerie Weapon Shop, a tall tower that looms over the other shops in front of it. Rubbing her hands together, Sybille reaches into her belt for a lock pick. The door swings open silently to a spacious shop with a marble counter towards the back wall, cases of weapons running parallel to one another over a light pine floor. Sybille sweeps along the cases surveying the various goods locked beneath a glass casing.

     Eyeing a gold amulet with a ruby in the center, Sybille sets to picking the lock of the glass case. The pick is fragile in her delicate hand, but Sybille knows the gentle caresses that the pick enjoys most; moving the pick first to the left, then the right a little, until it falls into the notch in the lock. Sybille twists gently and the case opens with a soft click.

     She opens the glass encasing pulling out Nuria's Fire Amulet. "I wonder if anyone from the thieves guild could fence this for me?"

     She continues to eye the other contents in the case; one of Illusen's Cream Cookie Bombs, a Water Faerie Halberd, and a peculiar looking staff made of a dark blue metal, a puffy cloud rotating at the top.

      Sybille reaches for the weapon, "An Air Faerie Sceptre," she breathes. "This will work much better than those Cheap Air Faerie Rings."

      Upon lifting the scepter from the case a loud shriek echoes through the shop. Sybille drops the scepter and tumbles to her knees, protecting her ears from the deafening security spell. Silhouettes surround the shop. Panicking, Sybille gets to her feet, racing towards the door. She pulls it open to find herself standing before Elyon whose face is contorted with bleakness. Sybille's heart breaks.

      "You are hopeless, Sybille," Elyon sighs, binding the Air Faerie's hands and escorting her towards the castle dungeons.


      Sybille does not sleep that night. She lies on the straw littered across the jail cell, but she tosses and turns from the prickly and uncomfortable feel, craving feather pillows back home and bed, soft as a cloud. Turning to gaze at the cobble ceiling, Sybille weighs her options. She could escape, run from Faerieland forever and officially take up thieving under the name of Kanrik, leader of the Thieves Guild. She looks out at the pale moonlight shining in through the barred window, dreaming of the adventures she could have as an official thief, the goods she could steal.

      Sybille moans in grief at the sight of the twinkling stars. She remembers meals of Celestial Salads and munching on Enchanted Popcorn on the roof, counting shooting stars.

      "The Queen once told me, back when I was working the in the Faerie Nursery, that shooting stars are actually the Space Faerie racing space rockets around the planet," Odette smiled at Sybille.

      "They must be flying so fast!" Sybille would reply, popcorn falling from her mouth and onto her dress and she sits forward to get a better look at the stars.

     Odette would brush the popcorn off Sybille's dress and then smile. "Yes, they must be flying very fast indeed."

     "Odette, one day I am going to race the Space Faerie around the planet."

     Odette just laughed, hugging her little sister in her arms, "When you do, I will be cheering so loud that all of Neopia can hear me."

     That was all a memory now. Sybille knew she would be receiving time in the dungeons this time. Tears streaming down her face, Sybille curls up into a ball on the straw. Pulling her cloak over her body, the way Odette used to tuck her into bed when she was younger. Sybille pulls her knees into her chest, crying in them until the sun rises the next morning.


     The sun shines through the barred window in fiery hues gorgeous enough for a fire Faerie herself. Elyon unlocks the jail cell door, sympathy scarred into her face at the desolate figure of her Faerie friend; her eyes puffy from crying, her green cloak wrapped tightly around the air Faerie's frail body.

     Sybille sits up and gazes at through swollen eyes. "Is it time for my audience with the Queen?" she asks, pulling her green cloak around her shoulders to block the cold morning air swirling through the jail cell.

     "Yes," Elyon replies with a glum tone. She binds Sybille's hands, as is procedure, each wrap of the rope around Sybille's delicate wrists a stabbing pain in Elyon's heart. Elyon begins to guide Sybille up the stone staircase.

     "Did you sleep well?" Elyon asks her eyes cast down to the floor.

     "Yes, pretty well, at least," Sybille lies. "Did you have a good night?"

     "Sort of," Elyon begins. "I was enjoying watching some fire Faerie dance in the city center but was interrupted by a burglary."

     "Oh," Sybille says, blushing. She bits her lips holding back the dread that threatens to spill up from her chest and out her eyes. "I'm sorry I ruined your night."

     The Queen's castle is gorgeous, stone walls decorated with pink and purple banners, large window with curtain drawn back with golden rope to allow the morning sunshine into the castle. The purple carpet running down the center of the hall feels rough under Sybille's feet.

     Elyon pushes open two large wooden doors to reveal the council room. The Queen sits upon a golden chair, her staff firmly place in her hand standing as straight as the Queen's posture.

     "Your majesty." Elyon bows. "I present you the thief who stole from the weapon shop."

     One of the guards pushes Sybille forward. She bows ungracefully, her white hair falling over her shoulder and into her face. "Your majesty I am prepared to take full responsibility for my actions against Faerieland," Sybille speaks to the ground.

     "For your first offense, Sybille, I will let you off with a warning," the Queen declares.

     Sybille's head snaps up to the Queen. "For my first offense? But this isn't..." Elyon clasps her hand over Sybille's mouth.

     "I am aware that this is not your first offense, Sybille. It is, however, your first offense against Faerieland and as ruler of this land I prefer leniency. However, this thieving needs to end, you will never master your power over air if you continue to waste your time stealing from Neopians. Do you wish to help people, Sybille?"

     "Yes, your majesty."

     "Then you must master your magic so you can bestow gifts upon the residents of Neopia. Thieving will not benefit anyone; it will only cause pain and misery."

     Sybille bits her lip, piercing through the skin. "You preach at me like you are my elder sister, your majesty," Sybille mutters.

     "Sybille!" Elyon gasps, "watch your tone. She is being kind to you! Do not be rude."

     Sybille spits, "Thieving is the only thing I am good at. I will never master air magic, I will never fly, I have been different since birth because my egg cracked when Faerieland fell from the skies."

     "Please, Sybille, stop talking!" Elyon pleads looking from her friend to Queen Fyora.

     Sybille continues addressing the Queen, "Thieving can be beneficial. Not every thief has to be a scoundrel."

     "Sybille, thieves brings nothing but misery and misfortune to those who work hard everyday to put bread on their table," the Queen says softly.

     "What if a thief stole for the good of Neopian kind?" Sybille asks in a challenging tone.

     "That is impossible, Sybille," Elyon pipes in. "Someone always suffers."

     "Then what if the person suffering deserved it?"

     The Queen leans forward at this. "Who could possibly deserve such a punishment?"


     "What is going on, Sybille?" Elyon pleads catching up to the Air Faerie who storms out of the council chamber.

     "I am going to prove to the Queen that thieving can be beneficial," the air Faerie replies, holding her head high as Faeries whisper in small groups to one another as Sybille descends the stairs in front of the palace gates.

     Elyon grabs Sybille's wrist. "Please, will you think this through? You are going to get hurt. You can't even..."

     "Can't even what?"

     Elyon exhales a regretful sigh, "You can't even fly, Sybille. How do you plan to get away if someone catches you?"

     Sybille opens the door to her house ascending the stairs up to her bedroom. "I will run like always." She throws her cloak on her bed, stretching her wings, moving them back and forth to relax the muscles. She turns her head, gazing into the mirror as Odette pushes her way into the room. Elyon gives Odette an exasperated look throwing her hand towards Sybille. Odette crosses her arms over her chest, ruffling a few flowers on her dress.

     "Are you going to stop me?" Sybille glares at her sister.

     "No," Odette says.

     "Wha...?" Elyon slurs in disbelief. Sybille stands, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.

     Odette continues, "You need to show Faerieland everything you are capable of. I know you are a warm hearted faerie. I know that you are strong despite the small size of your wings. Now it is time that the rest of Faerieland sees you for who you are. What do you plan on doing?"

     Sybille smiles at Odette and Elyon, ushering them into a circle, then smiles. "I plan to steal faeries."

To be continued...

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» The Faerie Thief: Part One
» The Faerie Thief: Part Three

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