Article I
THE PURPOSE OF THIS Act is to safeguard the rights, autonomy, and free will of all individuals within the Alliance by regulating the use of emotional manipulation and illusion-based magiks possessing the ability.
NO INDIVIDUAL, BEING, or entity, regardless of clan, race, or title, shall employ magic, enchantment, glamour, or any supernatural influence with the intent to alter, control, suppress, or amplify the emotions, perceptions, or mental state of another without express, informed, and verifiable consent.
THE USE OF MAGIC DESIGNED to create false appearances, visions, sounds, or sensory experiences that mislead, deceive, or otherwise manipulate another’s perception of reality is strictly prohibited in public, legal, commercial, and political settings.
Exceptions may be made for theatrical, ceremonial, or entertainment purposes where participants have been duly informed and have consented in writing.
Section 1.04: Enforcement and Penalties
VIOLATIONS OF THIS Act shall be considered federal offenses subject to investigation and prosecution by the Office of Magical Affairs Enforcement Division (OMAED).
Penalties may include, but are not limited to, fines, public censure, imprisonment, or magical binding prohibiting future use of restricted spells.
Article II: Exceptions and Permissible Uses
Section 2.01: Self-Defense Exception
NOTHING IN THIS ACT shall prohibit the use of emotional or illusory magic when employed in direct and immediate defense against physical, magical, or existential threat, provided the response is proportionate to the threat.
Section 2.02: Emergency Consent Exception
IN CIRCUMSTANCES WHERE obtaining explicit consent is impossible due to unconsciousness or magical incapacitation, emotional stabilization magic may be applied strictly for the purposes of preserving life, subject to immediate post-incident review.
Article III: Effective Date
THIS ACT SHALL TAKE effect on the first day of the new calendar year following its enactment.
Enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled.
From the Elves’ ancient books.
AS THE ROOTS OF THE elder trees bind the sacred earth, so too must the blood of the Crown remain whole.
In the marrow of the royal kin lies the breath of the wind, the pulse of the river, the spark of the fire, and the bone of the earth.
To mingle with lesser is to invite rot into the boughs of the high lineage, to see the flowering of power wither into dust. Let none forget: it is of solemn duty to the world that we preserve the power of the bloodline.
Through us, the forests sing.
Through us, the stars endure their long watch.
Let none forget.
MYSTIC HOLLOW, WA,
June
It was a truth universally whispered that an elf of ancient lineage must be a judgmental prick.
Beth barely refrained from rolling her eyes and continued storing the glasses along the length of the back bar while the group of young female elves kept tittering. “I heard the entire family will be here,” one said in between giggles. So. Many. Giggles.
“As long as Gael and Valerian come, I’m happy,” another one added.
Ah, Beth thought with a mental nod, wiping the counter.
That’s what it was. Gael and Valerian—Aryon and Elara’s first cousins.
Twins, but opposites in every way. Valerian, all sunshine and second chances, the kind of man who’d apologize for bleeding on your knife.
And Gael. Brooding, serious Gael, who moved through life bracing for impact and was wrapped in duty like it would shatter if he didn’t hold it just right.
Beth set the last glass down with a little more force than necessary and straightened.
She barely stifled a snort as she caught snippets of the girls’ romantic hopes.
Something about how dreamy it would be to marry into the old bloodlines.
Marrying into those was less about love and more about paperwork and genealogy charts.
Ancient bloodlines. Noble bearing. The usual cocktail of self-importance, stirred, never shaken.
“They’re both so handsome,” one of the girls sighed, clutching her hands to her chest like a character in a bad historical drama. She really did that. Beth gave the counter a particularly vigorous swipe as secondhand embarrassment took hold.
She set the rag aside and made for the swinging kitchen doors behind the bar.
It had been a while since she’d seen them.
Last winter, maybe? They’d really stepped into their official roles: Valerian charming the living daylights out of dignitaries at international summits, and Gael.
.. Well, doing whatever job involved saving the environment and scowling at political enemies until they cried into their goblets.
Typical. Patching the Earth because no one did it right, looking like he was planning a hostile takeover while doing it.
Good for Valerian, honestly. He deserved to shine. As for Gael, Beth was fairly certain his ego had grown to a size that could now legally apply for its own zip code, even by Elven standards. And also, saving the planet hadn’t made him any less of a broody pain in the ass.
The kitchen was a welcome escape. Back there, the clatter of pans and the hiss of sautéing onions masked the outside world.
Chef Harlan was elbow-deep in a crate of carrots, his long knife flashing in precise, angry little chops.
Beth leaned against the doorframe. “Need help peeling the potatoes?” she asked, folding her arms.
Harlan glanced up with a grunt. “Didn’t your shift finish ten minutes ago?”
“Yes. But as you know, I’m an exceptional fast peeler. Also, I don’t mind staying until Elara gets back.”
“Alright, then.”
Chef H passed her the bowl full of potatoes and a peeler, and Beth started the boring, oddly soothing job of peeling.
Two years, she thought absentmindedly. While some other members of the elves’ First Family had come to visit pretty regularly, it had been two years since Valerian or Gael had spent any high day in town, which may be the reason for all the buzzing.
Which she understood–to a point.
She was human after all, and humans liked their royals.
The status, the prestige, the spectacle, the fairy-tale promise.
But she also knew first-hand how power and money corrupt people and leave heartbreak in their wake.
So, while she got it, she also wanted to stay away from it as much as possible.
Been there. Done that. Burned the T-shirt.
Elves were very much like humans when it came to royals. They really loved them.
Which is where she got lost.
Mystic Hollow was home to Aryon and Elara, also known as the High Lord and Lady of the elves.
Basically, the top dogs loaded with power, beauty, and bloodlines for days.
And yet, despite all that, they also happened to be two of the kindest, funniest, most grounded magiks Beth had ever met.
Working at their pub, she’d gone from employee to something closer to a teased, loved, and quietly protected little sister.
Point being, why the hell would anyone lose their minds over a few visiting members of the High Family when the High Lord and Lady lived right here? The arrival of the extended family should’ve barely made a ripple.
Elara waltzed in, her ash-blond hair swept up into the intricate arrangement of tresses that marked her rank.
She pulled it tighter into a bun with one hand, letting her pointed ears flash, and made a beeline for Beth.
“And you’re still here, why?” she asked as she went to her and kissed her head, much like a mom or a big sister would.
“You know how I feel about peeling potatoes. I can’t help it.”
Elara chuckled, shrugging out of her light jacket and tossing it onto a hook by the door.
She crossed to the sinks, rolling up the sleeves of her white shirt as she went.
In seconds, she had a cutting board under one hand, a knife in the other, and was elbowing Beth aside with the kind of easy authority that said, Move, child, the adults are working now.
“So are the rumors true?” Beth asked.
Elara sighed. “There’s just so much.... Excitement. We’re used to some of it during Letha, but this is getting ridiculous.”
All elves had some gifts like elemental magic or mind work.
The High Family had most of them. Aryon and Elara?
Off the charts. The twins had basically every Elven gift turned up to eleven.
They could bend elemental forces, heal emotional wounds you didn’t even know you had, read emotions like turning pages, weave illusions.
But that kind of power came at a cost. The emotional toll of standing barefoot in a flood of other people’s grief could be brutal, draining.
It was one of the reasons they were tucked away here, in Mystic Hollow.
Not exactly hiding, but living where the noise of the world couldn’t grind them down so fast. They’d learned to manage it, to build walls when they needed to, to keep their own hearts from bleeding out under the weight of everyone else’s.
Still, if Beth could make it even a little easier on them, she would.
Every time. “If you guys need to take time off, Ann and I can cover for you and Aryon, no problem.”
Elara patted her arm. “You’re sweet, but we’ll be fine. Besides, all eyes will be on Valerian. And Gael, if he shows. He’s never been one for parties or letting loose. With all the buzz around them, he might just vanish.”
“Are you all going to crash Jade’s party?”
“Girl, everyone will be there. The Oreads’ it’s the party to go to since Jade became the clan’s chief. I’ve never imagined the Oreads could be so light and fun. It’s the best way to celebrate Litha’s energy.”
“By getting drunk and possibly laid?”
“Obviously.”
“Sounds good to me.”