Chapter Thirty-Six
The Fae and witches have always been bound by the thread of magic, their fates intertwined through power older than stone.
Some kingdoms, by nature of shared beliefs or origin, simply draw closer.
Drakonians and phoenixians, for example, are united in their devotion to the Sun God, refusing to bow before any other deity.
Wolverians, too, share many customs with wyverians, even weaving their ancient stories together with those of the valkyrians.
But similarities, while they can foster kinship, often breed something else. Jealousy. Rivalry.
It becomes a quiet war. A contest of grandeur. When there is nothing in common, it’s easy to turn away. But when both wield magic, both will strive to prove their mastery. Who casts stronger spells, who builds more awe-inspiring cities, who dazzles more brilliantly in the eyes of the world?
And this rivalry, sharp-edged as it is, has forged wonders. It has driven both kingdoms to carve beauty into the earth and summon power from the skies. It has made us stronger, more aware of what we can become.
But I fear it will also be our undoing.
One day, every kingdom may fall.
Not because we were too different, but because we were too alike to unite.
Because we were too busy fighting each other to face the true enemy.
The gods.
Tabitha Wysteria
Kage and Arden had been travelling without respite for days on end.
The lush, humid breath of the rainforest had long faded behind them, giving way to the vast, shadow-strewn expanse of the Forest of Endless Trees.
A place where time forgot to pass, and silence clung to the branches like mist. It had been two days since they crossed its threshold and Kage could feel the weight of unseen eyes lingering just beyond the trees.
He knew the Black Lotus assassins—Elric and Nymeria—were somewhere behind, weaving through the wilds like phantoms. Whether they pursued the same path or circled ahead mattered little. One way or another, they would find them.
‘You really must stop worrying so much,’ Arden said as he adjusted his shoes and shouldered his satchel.
Kage, ever cautious, had insisted on barely pausing their journey, but Arden had dismissed his unease with the ease of someone who had lived too long and feared too little.
‘They’re hunting me, not you,’ he added with a casual shrug.
‘Though, I daresay, they’ll happily slit your throat out of principle. ’
‘I’m not worried about that,’ Kage said, setting off once more into the tangled green, not bothering to wait for the Fae.
Arden appeared beside him a moment later, his steps so light they barely stirred the underbrush. ‘Oh?’ he asked, his tone teasing. ‘Then what is it that gnaws at that solemn heart of yours?’
Kage sighed, weary of both the question and the one asking it. He gave no answer, choosing instead to focus on the forest around them—the ancient, whispering trees, the scent of moss and damp earth, and the soft sound of something moving in the distance that may or may not have been a threat.
‘It’s that way,’ Arden announced, gesturing with a flourish. The Fae’s grin was maddeningly self-satisfied, so much so that Kage muttered darkly under his breath and pressed on in silence.
‘Is being silent your coping mechanism?’ Arden quipped, falling into step beside him.
Kage halted abruptly and turned a pointed stare on him, the kind that could cut glass.
‘I meant no offence,’ Arden said breezily, raising both hands in mock surrender, the smile on his lips only deepening.
‘Each to their own, of course. Perhaps I’m just bad at reading people.
When I first met Wren, I thought her imaginary friend was a figment of trauma.
Turned out the friend was entirely real.
So what do I know? Maybe you’ll turn out to be the most talkative wyverian in the realm. ’
Kage’s frown deepened. Without offering so much as a grunt, he turned and continued through the trees.
‘Or perhaps not,’ Arden added, unperturbed, his boots crunching softly on the forest floor as he followed. A moment later, the crow descended in a sweep of shadow and landed on his shoulder. Arden grinned. ‘At least your bird seems to appreciate me.’
Kage cast a sidelong glance at the creature’s silhouette and arched a single brow. Spirox gave a disgruntled caw, the sound more exasperated than hostile.
‘He just enjoys disagreeing with me in every way he can,’ Kage said.
Arden reached up and brushed his fingers through the crow’s shadow-feathers with a strange tenderness. ‘Tell me, then. Do you know what weighs so heavily on your master’s mind?’
Another caw.
‘Ah. So you do know. Intriguing.’
Kage let out a breath. ‘I don’t want to have to kill them.’
Arden blinked, caught off guard. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Elric and Nymeria,’ Kage clarified, his voice low. ‘I don’t want it to come to that. But it might.’
A pause. Then Arden began to laugh. A rich, irreverent sound. ‘That’s… rather sweet of you.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be sweet.’
‘I know. But you are slightly mad if you think you could kill them.’ Arden clicked his tongue in mock disapproval.
‘Wyverians always think they’re unmatched in a fight.
But those two? They’d have your balls sliced off and served to you on a silver platter before you could so much as blink.
’ He tilted his head, smirking. ‘Assuming you have any, of course. I’m still not entirely sure what’s down there. ’
‘I have balls,’ Kage said flatly, his tone as stony as his expression.
Arden chuckled. ‘Well, that’s a relief, for both of us, I suppose. Can’t imagine living without them.’
‘I imagine it would be… inconvenient,’ Kage said, frowning into the trees.
Arden clapped a hand on his shoulder, beaming. ‘Who would’ve guessed that balls are the key to getting you to talk. Noted.’
Kage immediately shrugged off the touch with a sharp movement, which only made Arden laugh harder. Kage resisted the urge to tell the Fae to quiet down lest he alert every Black Lotus in a mile’s radius. Instead, he did what he always did and said nothing, pressing forward into the deepening wood.
They paused beneath the swaying canopy to eat what little they had.
Arden had foraged a handful of ripe forest fruits, which he now nibbled at with casual indifference, while Kage sat in thoughtful silence, watching him.
Yet something unfamiliar stirred in his chest—a small, flickering warmth—when his gaze dropped to the worn satchel Arden had pressed into his hands days ago.
Inside were the other fruits, carefully gathered and left to soften, deliberately, so Kage would have something palatable to eat. Thoughtful in its quiet way.
‘Not hungry?’ Arden asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, his tone light but edged with curiosity.
‘I’m too hot,’ Kage said, dabbing at the perpetual sheen of sweat along his brow. ‘Thought it was just the rainforest, but this forest... it’s sweltering too.’
Arden’s expression darkened. He dropped what remained of his fruit and strode over, leaning in far too close for comfort as he studied Kage’s flushed complexion.
‘What are you doing?’ Kage asked stiffly, leaning back an inch.
‘Mm,’ Arden murmured around a final bite, chewing pensively.
His eyes narrowed as they drifted upward, scanning the thick weave of trees above them.
Then his features tightened with concern.
‘I knew it felt too warm...’ Without another word, he darted back to the tree where he’d left his satchel, gathering his things in a blur of movement. ‘Something’s not right.’
Kage rose smoothly to his feet, Spirox landing beside him with a soft thud. The crow cawed sharply, a sound filled with tension.
‘Spirox feels it too,’ Kage said, eyes narrowing. ‘But I can’t sense anything. No danger, not yet...’
Still, his instincts flared. He glanced upwards, scanning the shifting branches as though expecting something to descend from the treetops. His attention returned to the crow. ‘Go, Spirox.’
With a beat of inky wings, the shadow-bird launched into the canopy, vanishing between the trees like a whisper swallowed by the wind.
Kage gestured for them to ride the wolf, and Arden’s grin spread wide, all teeth and mischief, as he practically skipped over, patting the great beast’s flank with boyish glee.
‘Thought he’d never ask,’ he said, planting a quick kiss on the creature’s thick fur before swinging himself up with fluid ease.
Catching the look on Kage’s face, he added with a smirk, ‘What? We Fae are at one with nature, my brooding friend. Did you truly think I’d fear a wolf? ’ Arden chuckled. ‘I adore wolves.’
Kage refrained from responding, instead mounting behind him with a stiffness that betrayed his discomfort.
‘Loosen up,’ Arden said over his shoulder. ‘You’re riding like a twig.’
‘A twig?’ Kage echoed, brows lifting.
‘A term we use for someone who’s far too rigid. Emotionally, physically, all of it.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Kage replied dryly.
Arden let out a hearty laugh. ‘Ah, now I see why Wren might’ve liked you, twig.’
Though his face remained impassive, Kage’s lips twitched, just faintly, as if a smile had attempted to break free.
‘Truly?’ Kage said, voice deadpan. ‘I can’t imagine what she might’ve found appealing in you.’
Arden’s laughter echoed through the trees like music. ‘A twig with a sense of humour!’ he declared between chuckles. ‘Now that, I did not expect.’
The wolf bolted forward, gliding through the forest like a shadowed wind, its gait smooth and sure.
Above them, Spirox swooped low, the dark blur of wings signalling their path.
For a time, they rode in silence, the rhythm of the beast beneath them their only sound. But then, gradually, the air thickened.
The temperature climbed, heavy and oppressive, a tangible heat pressing against their skin. Their eyes lifted skyward, and widened.
Gone was the cool, ashen sky of the Fae kingdom. In its place loomed a dreadful, seething hue. An orange-tinged red that pulsed like an open wound across the heavens.
The moment they reached the two ancient columns—towering trees twisted skyward, their bark etched with glowing runes—the great wolf came to a halt, and both riders dismounted.
Kage tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.
One of the columns bore a vicious wound, half of it lying splintered on the ground, as if torn apart by a blast of raw magic.
The bark, gnarled and branchless, crackled faintly with residual energy.
‘Wait,’ Kage said, his voice sharp with warning. But it was already too late. Arden had darted between the twin columns, heedless, his figure vanishing into the shimmer between them. Kage swore under his breath.
The archway not only served as a veil to protect the hidden Fae city of Floridia, it was also an enchantment, an ancient ward designed to alert its guards of any intruder who did not bear Fae blood.
Kage had never set foot in Floridia before. He had read of it, of course. Tales of beauty spun like silk in the histories of the Eight Kingdoms. Yet some gnawing instinct told him that what awaited beyond the threshold would be no city of legend.
He glanced at the wolf, at the silent shadow of the crow, then drew a breath and stepped between the columns.
The world shifted.
A forest unfurled before him, vast and primeval.
Trees loomed like giants, their trunks as wide as towers, their sprawling boughs woven into a tapestry of wooden homes suspended in the canopy.
Bridges stretched from limb to limb, forming aerial paths that threaded through the foliage like veins of a living creature.
This was Floridia, the hidden jewel of the Fae.
And it was burning.
Flames licked the sky, a chorus of smoke and ash rising in haunting song. Fire consumed the majestic arbours, devouring the great trees that had stood for centuries. Arden was already running headlong towards the blaze, his silhouette disappearing through the smoke.
Kage did not follow. Instead, he moved with caution, his senses sharpened, his every step measured as though expecting the shadows themselves to strike.
He halted abruptly, something beneath his boot resisting his weight. Slowly, he looked down.
His breath caught.
Beneath him lay a hand, limp and lifeless.
His dark eyes lifted, scanning the grass, and saw it.
Bodies.
Dozens of them, strewn like broken dolls amidst the ruin. Fae men and women, young and old, their blood soaking into the scorched earth.
All of them dead.