Chapter One
In Faerie, there is one rule that must not be broken. Those of the Day must never partner with those of the Night.
The storytellers, spirit-users with the power of influence, spread cautionary tales to prevent partnerships like this. The most common was the tale of the Silver Dusk, the event that shaped Faerie as it was now.
In a clearing in the Day territory, Kelty of the Night eyed one of the Day Court’s storytellers and his small entourage from her perch opposite them. The magic she wore like an extra skin hid her purple coloring, silver wings, and the long strands of her silver hair, but she still chose to crouch behind a screen of leaves. The gentle light illuminating the clearing where the youth sat, staring with rapt attention at the storyteller, unnerved her, as did the way he told the story.
“Danger lies with choosing the path that leads away from the light.” The storyteller’s voice was soft, yet filled the clearing at the same time. “Love is where this tale begins, and death is where it ends. But listen carefully, and you will be led true.”
His yellow wings were folded to his back, fluttering only a little when he made gestures with his arms. He paid no mind to the three others with him who stood off to the side. Even without the dark skin colors of blue, green, and yellow, their lofty expressions would give them away as faeries of the Day Court. They watched with pride in their eyes.
Occasionally, the storyteller paced slightly; his dusty orange skin and long, straight hair of pale yellow gave him the appearance of the sun come to impart its knowledge on those below, as if it were an act of benevolence, a gift to be bestowed upon the faerie youth of the Day gathered before him. When the storyteller came, it was mandatory for the youth to hear his words. They came willingly, though, hoping for a chance at the glory they imagined the Day Court to be.
“They were from opposing courts,” the storyteller continued in his melodic voice. “She of the Night and he of the Day. Their partnership was not against the law at the time. But they both refused to join the court of the other before they accepted their bond, as the law demanded.
“As you well know, each of us are blessed at birth with the energy of the sun or the moon. The marks upon our temples are passed down from the energy of the ones who give us life, denoting us as one of the Night or one of the Day. The ara, the magic within us, connects us all to the ara of the land, but the lunar and solar energies pull us in different directions. It is the natural way of life, opposites working in harmony and existing separately.”
As he spoke, he made sure to catch the eyes of the slack-jawed youth. Everyone knew the story, but the storyteller had a way of spinning his words together to create a more stunning tale than they could’ve imagined.
“In direct violation of the law, this couple accepted the partnership that called them together. They stood over the line between the Night and Day territories, one on each side, and clasped arms.”
Kelty scoffed inwardly at the insane detail the storyteller couldn’t possibly know. The Great Destroyers did this in secret with no witnesses. This part of the story gets more ridiculous every time I hear it.
“They spoke the word ‘forever,’ and their bond formed.”
That at least was true. Faeries were potentials, merely attracted to each other on a deeper level and able to see and feel each other’s magic, until they both whole-heartedly accepted the bond. Once they knew deep down they were meant for each other, they clasped hands and their magics were bound together, the power calling to that of the other and also able to combine with it. Though the word “forever” was merely a custom, it served as a promise. Together for the remainder of life.
The storyteller continued his story with a frown marring his smooth face. “They lived in secret, traveling between the territories and avoiding everyone, lest they come across one who could sense their illegal bond. They foolishly planned to create a new kind of faerie, one with the combined power of the sun and moon.
“They planned to have a child.”
He paused, eyes the color of the sky above roaming the audience to make sure he was connecting with each one of them.
“Before the Silver Dusk, it was unknown what a child of a mixed union would be like. Now we know the result would be a child who will never belong to either the sun or the moon, and thus to neither court. Their magic would be uncontrollable. And destructive.
“When the child was born, the burst of power that came with its first cry killed its parents. Then an unnatural magic was unleashed in an explosion that rocked through Faerie, destroying the child itself and tearing through every living thing in its path, the power desperately seeking a connection it would never have. For this magic was not able to join with that of the ara. It was an abomination, never meant to exist.
“It spiraled further and further out of control. The land turned to burnt and barren husks. Faeries dissolved into silver pools of liquid on the ground, unable to return to the ara without guidance. It nearly killed off all members of both courts as it traveled upward with tremendous speed. Those that survived remember hearing a sound like a terrible keening.”
There was another theatrical pause. Kelty could not see the faces of the youth, but she imagined their eyes were glazed over, picturing the devastation.
“Silver, silver in the growing dark,” the storyteller said softly.
A hush fell over those present so that the only noise was the flutter of tiny feathered wings and clawed feet as the runa flitted among the branches above. Though even the small creatures kept their beaks shut as they passed over.
Then the storyteller’s eyes came alight. “Suddenly, a great blue light spread through the trees, the soil. This magic formed a barrier across the center of Faerie, held together by the leaders of the Day, as we know them now. The spirit magic of our leader, The Glorious, spread through the land by her partner, Drake. They drove the unnatural magic away from the land and up into the sky, where it dissipated and ate at itself since it lacked any element to ground itself in. Even the air itself rejected it.”
Kelty recalled hearing the same tale from her mother, Kye of the Night, who had been there. She was with The Glorious and Drake as they used their combined magic in the spectacular display that drove off the unnatural power and saved Faerie. She had been there to stand up and claim her birthright to rule the Night along with her partner, Baron. Kelty could never forget the haunted look in her mother’s eyes as she recounted the horror of the cleanup afterward, both courts drenched in silver blood, the task of guiding the energy of her dead family and the other fallen ones back to the ara within the soil for their final rest.
This story should be told; it was the underlying purpose of this gathering Kelty did not agree with.
She adjusted her stance on her perch. The power that blended her into the bark and leaves was second nature to her, but she checked her magical concealment anyway. As one of the Night, she was not supposed to be lurking in Day territory, much less assessing their storytellers.
“We were saved by The Glorious. We were saved by the light and power of the Day.”
There it was, the shameless praise for the leader of the Day. Kelty nearly rolled her eyes, though the words were true. The Glorious was the most powerful of Faerie, and she made sure everyone knew it.
The Glorious’s spirit magic allowed her to sense emotions and purpose, and to create illusions based on those emotions and experiences. With this power, and the considerable debt everyone in Faerie felt they owed her, she created the most powerful Court of the Day in the history of Faerie.
As if the influence this gave her over all of Faerie wasn’t enough, her storytellers combed the Day villages, looking for faerie youth with power enough to contribute to that of her court. They told the youth they were meant to live different lives, around others of their caliber and strength. The world of the Day was divided into those who were fated to prosper and those fated to suffer; those with a strong connection to the ara and those with the weakest. Even those who knew they had no chance still ran to hear the storytellers, caught up in a dream that would never be but was still as alluring as the sun they so worshiped.
It was all a lie.
The Glorious tightly controlled her court, and as evidenced by the rapt expressions of the storyteller’s entourage, they still loved her for it. That was if they were lucky to be in favor. Those not in favor were either tortured or disposed of in the neighboring human world, a place no faerie wanted to go.
Beyond the Day Court, the commoners of the Day lived very different lives. With little connection to the ara themselves, they relied on the Telk stones that stronger faeries infused with their power. And those stones were becoming increasingly hard to come by with all of the powerful faeries being steadily drawn into court through gatherings such as this.
The tale continued in a more solemn tone. “And once the destruction was stopped, the land of the south destitute and lifeless, The Glorious and the other rulers guided the fallen faeries into the ara of the land again. The courts of Night and Day as you know them were formed.
“The leaders of both courts stood before Faerie and decreed there will be no partnerships between those of the Night and those of the Day.
“Balance of opposites keeps the land bountiful and the ara whole. Duty calls to each of us differently to keep this balance. Remember your place and embrace it, for defying that is what caused this tragedy.”
The branch beneath Kelty’s feet hummed as the trees surrounding the clearing sensed a surge of energy. There is the true purpose of this gathering. Kelty ducked lower as if she could see the storyteller’s magic herself, itching to tap into the forbidden part of her power that would allow her to see the spirit magic but knowing it was too risky.
The storyteller’s job was to dig deeper and truly assess if any of the youth gathered were worth bringing back to court. They would stay there for the remainder of their lives, perhaps never even seeing their families again. If he suspected that they were powerful enough, they would have no choice but to leave with him and be forced into The Glorious’s service, becoming a part of a court that was tightly controlled; the slightest misstep could result in terrible punishment.
Kelty studied the reactions of the youth below. Most had looks of awe on their faces. They murmured to each other, none seeming the least bit bothered by any of this. Some beamed at the storyteller.
Only one drew Kelty’s attention. She stood alone at the back of the group; lavender wings made up of smaller membranous segments outlined in a darker shade of purple were folded down her back, larger top wings partially overlapping the smaller sections. The dark braid that flowed over one shoulder stood out against her rich purple skin that was much like the color of Kelty’s own.
Faeries were born pure white and developed over a matter of days into the color most suited to them. Purples tended to be more intuitive, cool-headed, but also courageous, the ones who got things done. Kelty involuntarily approved of the youth, although the stoic way she stood there in silence reminded her more of her sister than herself.
No, don’t think like that either, Kelty berated herself. It was always possible she would fail to save this youth from the Day Court. It happened many times before. If Kelty wasn’t in a position to warn the youth away without being discovered by the storytellers or if the youth went willingly, there was nothing Kelty could do. She didn’t need the added guilt that thinking of this stranger as her sister would bring up.
Brows creased, Kelty waited to see what the storyteller would do once his tale concluded.
His soft voice carried as he delivered his last line. “Remember, remember this tale and be at peace.”
The storyteller gave them all a bow of his head and stood with open arms, welcoming and inviting the youth to speak with him as they always did, asking eager questions. If only they knew it wasn’t as glamorous as they imagined. But Kelty could not shout that across the clearing like she wished she could. She was not even supposed to be trying to thwart the gathering as it was.
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