Becoming Fae

Ben

I had stared, slack-jawed, at the newest arrivals to our camp. The good news was that now I knew where I had smelled that scent before. The bad news was that I now knew where I had smelled that scent before.

Blaine had laughed like a hyena when we reached the dark mass and found it to be a crowd of people that weren’t exactly enemies, though some might be needing to suck up something fierce when Fae gets back.

“There you are, handsome,” came the familiar voice and I felt like yelping and running for the nearest hole to hide in.

“Hey, Heather,” I replied, trying not to sound like I was about to tinkle the floor, as Fae says.

“Relax, Ben,” she laughed, sitting next to me in the common cafeteria. “You aren’t my flavor anymore.”

“Since when?” I blinked.

“Sine this,” she snorted and pulled on a bit of hair. “And the facial hair isn’t my thing. Plus, you’re different, now. You grew up and I’m not wanting grown-up kind of fun. I’m childish.”

“I don’t have time for that kind of thing these days anyhow,” I waved a hand.

“Exactly my point,” she smiled.

“How was the meeting with Rollie?” I asked her.

“About how you would expect,” she shrugged. “He asked questions, I answered them. That kind of thing.”

“Which questions?” I asked her.

“Who I was, why I was here, who the others were, how we heard about what was going on here when most of us are Earth-bound,” she listed.

“So?” I asked her.

“I’m a Seer, Ben. I see things,” she rolled her eyes.

“No shit. That’s what that means?” I gasped sarcastically. “How’d you get all of them to come with you?”

“I’m persuasive, too,” she winked at me.

“They are here willingly, right?” I asked her.

“Of course. I might be prone to insanity, but I’m not bringing people to die in a war if they want nothing to do with it. I have a soul, still,” she answered with a scoff. “You’ll need us soon enough and, willing or not, you’ll be glad to have us when that time comes.”

“What’s coming?” I ask, half convinced I didn’t want to know the answer.

“War is coming,” she answered. “And no one here stands a chance when it gets here.”

-----

Mal

I could feel Fae’s emotions after Netiri went after her. They were a swirling mixture of fear, anger, and determination, among others. After a few minutes, they were less troubled, though ‘calm’ would be one of the last words I’d use. More stable, perhaps.

“You worry too much,” Immail chuckled after a moment.

“Is there such a thing?” I asked him.

“Yes. She is stronger than you admit,” he answered.

“She’s the strongest person I know,” I objected.

“Still,” he nodded. “There is a fine line between protecting and hindering.”

“I’m not hindering her,” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You will,” he said. “There is war coming. I can smell it in the air. When the battles begin, you’ll want to protect her above all else. But it will hurt her in the end. She needs to have the entire experience, not just the safe parts, or she’ll never be able to hold the Throne until it’s destroyed.”

“It can be destroyed, though. Right?”

“In theory,” he nodded. “I made the Throne when things were very different than they are now. Demons were new and too eager to corrupt. There was no order, and they were running through the Sidhe unchecked, destroying and killing simply because they could.”

“The stories say you were part of that, though,” I pointed out.

“I was, for a time, but I was created to combat the Celestials. I’m a warrior, young fairy. I feel the thirst for spilling blood just as strongly as I ever did and the coming war has my blood singing in my veins after so long without,” he said, his eyes burning briefly. “But I was the first, the closest to my father and his chosen son to lead his creations in his absence. Darkness can’t exist without light and chaos is meaningless without order. Balance must be maintained.

“I made the Throne to bind all demons to it and the one that sits on it. To control the uncontrollable,” he shook his head. “I don’t think it needs to remain, now that the uncontrollable have learned self-control.”

“For the most part,” I shrugged, and he grinned.

“For the most part,” he agreed.

“How do we destroy it?” I asked him.

“Know anything about explosives?” he grinned.

-----

Harmon

It’s strange, living among what my people called heathens. Lawless, mindless, heartless creatures of destruction and chaos that would sooner cut you open to feast on your innards than blink. I admit, some of them can be a little crude and most of them are far from the high protocol of manners I was used to in the Spire City, but they weren’t anything like what I had been told my whole life.

They were a strange people, but I’d come to know the heart of them, and it was made of something dark and twisted, but beautiful and wholesome. None more so than Fae, though. I never dreamed to meet High Priestess Netiri, but seeing the two of them together, it’s clear where Fae got her ability to draw people in. And it was just as clear where she got her intensity after hearing Immail talking for a moment.

My ancestor did terrible things to this family. Atrocious crimes were committed and the more I inspect the damage done to the surroundings, due to the curse he put on them, the more ashamed I am of the blood that runs through me. Not only for the uncontrollable fact of my heritage, but for my own actions before. They paled in comparison, but they never should have come to pass in the first place.

“Keep it up and you’ll get wrinkles,” Fae bumped her shoulder with mine.

“Wrinkles do not concern me,” I looked at her and she smirked and rolled her eyes, letting me know I missed something.

“You’re scowling at the rock. Either it insulted your feathers or you're thinking too hard,” she said.

“My feathers are flawless,” I scoffed.

“A bit dirty. That’s the trouble with white. It’s so hard to keep clean,” she laughed and shoved me playfully. “Now black, on the other hand? Hides the smudges and blood spatter. Much more practical.”

“You are odd, sometimes,” I smiled.

“Perks of being a freak of nature,” she shrugged. “So? You should be over the moon right now. Netiri, alive and in the flesh? Yet, you’ve hardly said three things to her. What gives?”

“What can be said to undo the harm done to her? And Immail and their children, all the way down to you,” I shook my head.

“Nothing can undo the past, but the future isn’t set in stone, you know,” she answered. “A Seer told me that once. Some things are meant to happen, but most of it is up in the air until it’s decided otherwise. Seems like you’ve made the decision to try and stop the harm from continuing. Does that not mean anything in the grand scheme of things?”

“It shouldn’t be like this, though,” I put my hand on the trunk of a drained tree. “This is something else, Fae. It’s not just dark magic, it’s evil. And they’ve lived with it, your whole family has lived with it, for thousands of years.”

“And you have stupidly offered to stop it. What’s the problem? Cold feet?” she asked.

“No. I intend to do what I can to stop this madness, but it shouldn’t even be here in the first place. And now, I know I have carried that hatred in my veins as well. Everything I’ve ever done, I’m now questioning. Was it me or was it the malice festering in my blood?”

“You still can’t change the past. You can change how you look at it, but it’s always going to be the same thing,” she put her hand on my shoulder. “You saw a different angle and saw bad things. You walked away from it; from everything you knew. You came to the person that you’d always been told was an enemy, knowing you’d probably not be welcomed easily.”

I scoffed and looked at Naz, sitting at the fire and speaking with Immail.

“I don’t know what you did before to warrant your guilt, but I know that you’ve done so much good since you showed up again, Sparkles,” she gave my shoulder a squeeze than let it go. “You’ve made some pretty big changes since we first met. For the better, in my opinion, though I kind of miss being called abomination.”

“If it makes you feel better, you are an abomination,” I laughed. “But a good one.”

“And you are an angel,” she rolled her eyes. “But a good one. One that I don’t want to kill. Harmon, I really don’t want to do this. It’s so risky.”

“I would rather take the risk than have your hands stained with blood. I have a cousin who is only two years old. You would have to kill her,” I said.

“I hate when you make a good point,” she scowled at me.

“It might not be my sin to bear, but I’ll take the burden and pay the price of it,” I told her.

“I still say you’re stupid,” she huffed and crossed her arms. “But, fine. Just remember, I’m unwilling in this, so don’t even think about haunting me. I will have you exorcised so fast; your head will spin. But not before I pluck your ethereal feathers like a ghost chicken.”