Balance

Tummy Time the Two

Curtis walked slowly with his head hung in shame, he approached the Lily Ivey gates of Soaz’s realm. The guards were wary, but they did not see his wild elven warrior who had ended so many lives that day, so though they kept their spears levied they allowed him entrance. Through the aisle of great holly and oak, the ancients of the wood, he felt the gaze of the immortal trees weigh and judge his crimes, he felt petty he had acted with good intentions and those had led only to war. As he walked he say pixies, brownies, fairies, sprites and lechies in impromptu hospices being cared for as best they could, the dead that the fey had carried off with them rested on the roots of the great trees, eyes caste towards the starry sky above.

At long last he came to the Hall of the Fairy King, where the roots of the oldest tree on Argyle had been slowly sung to shape them into a tiny throne that held the ruler of the fair people. He looked up and swallowed hard. Sitting in the thrown sat Soaz, her arm in a sling, her face bloody. For her to sit there meant that the illness her father was reputed to suffer from had taken him at last, couple that with their recent battle and he knew that her mood would not be one of peace. Behind her tucked into the shadow of the great tree, eyes closed with hand open on the bark, stood the Fey Prince himself. His black feathered cloak billowed in the slight breeze as his blond brows furrowed with sadness and disappointment as he learned of all that had transpired from great elm tree. Curtis swallowed and stepped forward

“Princess Soaz…” he was cut off as a large Fairy with flowing blond hair and a breast plate of maple leaf. Cutis knew him for he had been the one to injure Maul and cause him to turn back. That was Yarrow Junipersnap head of Tylwth’Teg a warrior order of Fairy.

“Our Royal Matriarch is a princess no longer, upon the death of King Quillleaf she ascended to become Queen Soaz Peddlewing the 3rd of her name, Rular of all fair folk from Rosemellow Ridge to Rainbow Glen, from the Cliffs of Clover to the Hills of Holly, she is the rightful Queen of the Northern Fey and Duchess of the Tywth’Teg Council, and you… heretic will show respect before she rightly orders your end” the words that came from Yarrow were filled with hate and venom, he had lost brothers this day. Curtis nodded and bowed

“I am sorry Master Junipersnap, I do not come intending offense,” he turned to the throne once more “Queen Peddlewing, I am sorry, I had thought the Lady of the Night Wind demanded obedience, I had thought that I was doing her work, but as I look at the carnage that I have wrought, as I prayed afterwards I know now that my understanding was flawed. I know there is no way to undo what I have done, but I wish it so, I wish I could.” The Queen looked angry, and was working on forming a response when a soft voice spoke from behind her

“If I may speak your highness?” the fey prince said in a tone closer to song then words. The Queen looked to her advisors who all nodded hurriedly
“The Everlast shall always have a voice in this court” the Queen said

“Thank you your Majesty” he bowed deeply stepping forward towards Curtis. He stood the height of a man, with blond hair and features closely to those of an elf then a fey, but it was the eyes, great blue orbs that held a wisdom beyond that of any mortal or fey, eyes that could swallow a creature’s soul and have them drift through a void of forever. The Everlast turned and looked carefully at Curtis, weighing his very nature and soul against his actions. “Curtis Tomas, the faun of Myth’O’Learth, compaions of Maul-Chaluim of Clan Silverfish, and worshiper of the Goddess of the Night Wind. He leaned in and stared hard at the faun. Curtis’s heart was racing, he knew that his life was about to end and offered a prayer of apology to his goddess, he would be in death as he had been in life, a failure. The Prince’s hand reached out and touched his forward and then withdrew, Curtis dared to open his eye, but saw in the Everlasts face not a look of anger, but of surprise. And then mirth. “The Goddess of the Night Wind is a Goddess true!” he declared to the court, many of those assembled gasped in awe and surprise “What is more is that she wishes both sides to come to peace, and…” his voice took on a curious tone as he studied the soul of the faun before him “… and she gives much for it” the Everlast reached into a pouch and polled from it a handful of sand, with a dramatic swirl he tossed the sand in the air and a golden light emanated from it. The sand quickly formed images and those gathered saw a proud and noble Strix, a tall warrior a proud man formed by the gods himself. They saw him go forth live honorably, meet another Strix, marry have children, then it followed the child as she grew and lived and fought and married and more children were had. Each time one child was selected and followed until they in turn had children, this repeated thousands of times over and over until it came at last to one larger then the rest, a form of beauty and power a form that arose to Godhood and became the Goddess of the Night Wind, and beyond her showed the silhouettes of the many generations that were to come. And then, with a sudden thunder strike, all the ones that followed the Goddess were gone, she would be the last of her line, the last of her kind. The sand that had made up her children, childrens children and more drifted to those fallen, and turned to a spark of purple resting above the heads of each fallen pixies, sprite, or fairy. With a pulsing that quickened until at last one last POP, the sand faded and those who had fallen awoke, as if only from a deep slumber.

“The Goddess of the Night Wind and offered a peace, I recommend her Majesty extend the same curtesy” The Everlast said as he backed away to his shadow by the great elm once more

Miriel awoke in a cold sweat and in agony, the dream was so real, it scared her so, she then turned in her bed and cried out in paid, she felt of awful stabbing in her stomach, her hurt like a hand had grasped her insides and tore at them… and she knew that all she had seen was real, and for it she wept.

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Argyle

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