“That… wouldn’t have worked anyway, Drakara. You… you know that.” She tries to lift herself, bits of debris digging into her palms, but half of her body simply won’t budge. As if it doesn’t even see the point in moving at all. 

“Of course. Just as I knew the Acrimonious Paint Brush wouldn’t turn you entirely grey. You’re too powerful, and I’m not suited for the Brush the way I thought the Grey Painter was…” Drakara looks back on the sheepish Yurble still clinging onto Vocivus’s crest for dear life. “He really is the perfect little bitter battery. Which is why I’ll hold onto him a bit longer. I’m certain I can convince him to be my Grey Painter once more… after I remove all of his distractions.” Drakara turns over the Acrimonious Paint Brush in her hands, lost in thought for the briefest of moments.

“As proud as I am of my masterpiece, its effects are still not immutable. Not like the ritual.” Suddenly, Drakara’s eyes SNAP up from the brush and fixate back on Fyora. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that – we were both at the ritual that turned me grey, weren’t we?”

“Drakara.. I-” Fyora tries to tenderly chip in, but she can barely get a word out before she’s cut off.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fifi. It was never about you - or about what you did. That may be a hard concept for you to wrap your mind around…” Drakara’s gaze falls upon Baelia. “But perhaps your little friend here can help you. You may not be completely grey yet, but give it time… This one, on the other hand, has had plenty of time to get used to it.” Drakara looms over Baelia. “Haven’t you, my little caged bird?”

“I… I…” Baelia can’t hear herself stuttering over the sound of her heart. It’s beating faster and louder than it ever has before. Faster and louder than it’s intended to. The world starts spinning around her as her legs turn to jelly and feel like they’ve vanished entirely, as if they’d never existed at all. She’s pretty sure she’s still trying to say anything other than “I”.  

It feels as though each breath is smaller and quicker than the last as the edges of her vision begin to blur into all too familiar iron bars. A cloaked figure taunts her from the other side of the cage. A sinister smile leers at her from just beneath the cowl, hateful eyes gleaming as the hood obscuring them is pulled back, both burned forever into her memory. The very same sinister smile before her now. 

There is no more doubt. She can’t deny it any longer.

Baelia takes a slow, deep breath before gingerly exhaling the words she had been struggling to find. 

“It is you… Jennumara.” Baelia’s eyes slowly trail up to her sneering former captor.

“So, you do remember me, then. I’m flattered,” Drakara derides her, tousling her hair. Fyora looks on at the conversation with confusion.

“Jennumara?” Fyora repeats the name aloud. Tavi seems to be the only one who recognises the name.

“No… B, is this the Faerie who-”

 “Imprisoned her? Yes. And you must be the pest that freed her.” Drakara examines her nails inattentively, like she hasn’t got a care in the world. She certainly doesn’t care that Tavi is there. Eyes ablaze with fury, the Kyrii tries to step forward, but Baelia clutches onto her, holding her tight. Her pleading eyes meet Tavi’s, quelling the fire within them. Drakara hardly notices, continuing.

“That magic lock wasn’t my finest work, I admit... “ She glances down at Fyora, a cruel smile reaching from ear to ear. Using the end of her lance, Drakara tilts up Fyora’s chin. “But I’ve improved on the design since then. What do you say we test it out on our newest Grey Faerie, hm?” Fyora turns away as forcefully as she can muster. 

“Unless we have any volunteers, that is?” Drakara spins to face the others. The entire group, even the headstrong Aisha, are all frozen in fear. After all, who in Neopia could stand up to someone strong enough to defeat Queen Fyora? Who in their right mind would dare challenge such an indomitable force of nature? As she glances over the despondent faces of her dwindling opposition, Drakara is certain they all grasped that stark reality. However, she didn’t glance low enough. 

“That’s what I-” 

“Bark!” Drakara blinked. She was… interrupted? Who in the world would still risk defying her? She looks across the stunned faces in front of her. None of them seems to be responsible for that noise.

“Bark! Bark!” Incensed, Drakara’s eyes flit around until they find the culprit. Near her feet, standing beside the fallen Faerie Queen, is a Doglefox. Tiny, fatigued, and grey from head to toe, but definitely a Doglefox.

“You can’t be-” 

“Bark! Bark! Bark!” Relentless, the Petpet barks and growls away, even growing bold enough to nip at the edges of her dress.

“Why, you brazen little vermin! What impudence. Vocivus, show this little mongrel what a real beast sounds like!” Drakara raises the large crystal she first used to summon the creature of the Void, and it glows and hums with a strange power. Vocivus brings his maw down to face Styx before unleashing a thunderous roar upon him.  

“YELP!” Styx takes off running, tail between his legs, heading straight towards the Haunted Woods looming far off in the distance.

“Now, where were we before I was rudely interru-” 

“You sure like to hear yourself talk.” Nyx murmurs. She shakes off her fear and steps forward.”Normally, I stand up to bullies like you without a second thought, but I haven’t been feeling like myself lately… ” Nyx glances over at Styx’s shrinking form as he runs toward the horizon. “Lucky for me, that Doglefox has more than enough heart for the both of us. And after this is over, you will apologise for scaring him!” Her hand crackles with purple energy as void tendrils spring from around her wrist.

Drakara couldn’t care less. 

With a lethargic snap of her fingers, she summons two of her Abyssal Acolytes before them. Bones and armour creak with every step as the skeletal soldiers converge on Nyx. Despite their reanimated appearance, they move deftly with tactical precision. The largest of the two, which appeared to have at one point in history been a Kau based on bone structure, raises its shield, hooves planted firmly. Despite Nyx’s void tendrils lashing out fiercely, the ancient warrior holds their ground, blocking her extending wisps from even reaching a yawning Drakara. While the skeletal Kau keeps up their ironclad defence, the smaller of the two warriors advances on Nyx, deftly twirling their handaxes. Before she knows it, Nyx is backpeddling away from the slashing Abyssal Acolyte that was once a Draik.

“Well, now that those impolite ruffians are learning how to better conduct themselves, we can continue conversing like civilised faeries.” Drakara diverts her focus back to the group as Fyora finally pulls herself up. 

“I… don’t understand. How did you…?” Fyora trails off as she speaks, perhaps unsure if she truly wants the answer.

“Become so powerful? Get this far without you? Turn into this half-grey abomination? I already answered all of those questions. Weren’t you listening?” Drakara raps her fingers in mock annoyance. 

“Your new name…” Fyora’s eyes widen as the pieces click together.

“So you have been following along! Jennumara was the name bestowed upon me, and with it, came new purpose.”
“Who gave you… Wait, it couldn’t have been-” Fyora doesn’t have a chance to finish the thought before Drakara interjects.

“Ah, I’ve already said too much. Besides, we have more urgent matters to discuss…” Drakara’s eyes fall to Baelia as she fiddles with loose grains of sand between her fingers.