Feywild: B1 - 3. A Willing Sacrifice

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Jade squinted as a mystical sky opened up to her, a blue and white hued sun bathing the magical realm in a way that seemed to make everything more vibrant. The air hummed with an energy that sent a pulse through her bones, and her audience was pouring in.

She breathed out her stress, spotting men and women flying in on broomsticks, some without any visible means of flight at all, and others floating in on wind-like spheres, flames, or water. The scene was surreal, a circus of the impossible.

“Eh, if I knew I was going to be the main attraction, I would’ve dressed better… I’m sure I could have shoplifted a dress in some store to look my Sunday best. Yikes…that thing is bigger than it looked a second ago,” she gulped.

Completely forgetting about her sore muscles while following the frame of the giant execution device, she saw a floating black octagon, completely made out of glass; it absorbed the light and didn’t appear to let it go.

The druid silently ceased his spell, keeping his unreadable gaze on the device as the runes on his staff dimmed. He halted, leaned against his staff, and lowered his vision to watch them approach as Chelsea guided her forward, ever the chatterbox one.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what all this about,” she noted, pointing at a distant spire piercing the sky not too far in the distance, “but does a headless person need such headaches?”

Jade raised an eyebrow. “What a joke… This place looks like it holds fifty thousand and only a few hundred showed up?” she ducked her head a little with an apologetic grin as Stephen glanced back with his lips drawn in.

“Oh, you gave her the leniency to be curious, sweet eyes,” Chelsea winked. “I’m hoping she survives. This stuffy old human relic could use a little more chaos.”

Stephen sighed, halting them as a dome of blue light spontaneously blocked their way, isolating the execution weapon. “So long as she cooperates, I’ll leave her in your hands, Doctor. She does appear to be calming down…and by a shocking degree. The feyiron should be inflicting terror in her heart, yet the more she looks at it, the more stable she becomes.”

“So you noticed?” the succubus cooed, her brown eyes scanning the throng as more people became interested by the second. “You aren’t the only one. Go on, be a gentleman and focus on removing the barrier! It’s so nice having someone else do the troublesome work. Where was I…”

Her focus shifted back to Jade as she looked up at the ghostly aura pulsating with the sinister blade. The longer Jade stared at it, the more it felt like she’d seen something like this before…but she couldn’t place where or when—this certainly was the first time she’d seen a guillotine in real life. 

“Right! Saying none of this matters,” she lamented. “If only rules were less restrictive and prejudices foregone we may reach full capacity. To the chopping block!”

Jade turned her attention away from Stephen, now holding his hand against the barrier, sending light ripples through its surface. Chelsea turned to point at a few individuals. “The monsters seem to be keeping their distance; guess they're shy around humans,” she commented in a far more devious tone than Jade thought needed.

Jade noted the diversity in the crowd—students of varying ages, one as young as twelve, another giving off a ghostly flicker while holding an umbrella against the intense overhead white sun. Age didn’t appear to matter.

“Nice setup for an execution,” Jade quipped, her gaze returning to the feyiron guillotine. “Reminds me of that one time I had to escape a collapsing building while being chased by angry penguins. At least there wasn’t a guillotine involved. Oh! And the penguins made it out fine…the crabs on the other hand, not so much.”

Chelsea fell into fits of laughter, holding her stomach. “Delightful! Having trouble, Stephen? It is the Principal’s witchy barrier, after all—the Queen of Witches can be a real hag sometimes. Am I right?”

Stephen didn’t appear all that disturbed by her comments as the shell dissipated, and a warm embrace of familiar magic swept through Jade, stunning her in place; she’d felt this energy as a child. Was this fey magic? Her eyes drifted from the silver blood up to the ghostly blade. No, it was fey-essence.

“It’s okay, take a moment if you need it,” Chelsea soothed. “If it makes you feel any better, you're the first one to willingly come this far without being forced! Whether that makes you brave or stupid, you decide.”

“Could you let off a little, Doctor… Jade, are you ready?”

Jade glanced back at the druid, Powder still unconscious in his palm a distance away. “I don’t know why…but something feels familiar about this thing,” she mumbled, hugging herself as a shiver ran down her spine. “I feel like there’s something I forgot… It’s right at the back of my mind, and I can’t get to it.”

“Oh, well, you’re probably wondering, ‘Why a guillotine?’ You are, aren’t you?” Chelsea snickered, vanishing in a swirl of sulfur and crimson light to dance around the object and running her hand over its sleek, polished ebony surface. “It’s an older relic than you might expect.”

“It did cross my mind,” she mumbled, her attention returning to what should have been a terrifying sight. Yet, there was something drawing her toward it now. Stephen set a reasonable pace for them, continuing on. Jade was far too self-absorbed to notice much more than the deadly object ahead of her, though. “There’s an awful lot of, uh…is that silver around it?”

“Fey bleed silver, love.” Chelsea explained. “Every part of them is intrinsically tied to natural magic itself—as potent as you get—so they’re exceptionally profitable to sell, even if only slightly awakened mixed bloods.”

She proudly spoke up as they neared. “As for the guillotine design, the Realm Wars ended in the late 16th century, isolated from Earth, but it has been happening in the background for millennia between factions. After things settled down, it took some time to reach Europe on Earth. Yes! This is the original guillotine.”

Jade strained a laugh, yet, oddly, the longer she stared at the ominous object, the less frightened she became. “I’m honored to be killed by it. Wait, you said I’m fey-touched…not fey, right? So…I should be fine. And you’re talking about fairies. I was touched by a fairy…”

Stepping closer to Chelsea, Jade felt lost in a mist as she neared the execution device, losing her train of thought in the desperate cry from someone distant…someone noble.

“I feel her calling me…”

“Who… Her cadence has changed, Chelsea… She’s channeling her powers again, without your influence… What’s happening?”

“Oooh. Interesting,” the succubus hummed, spinning in a slow circle as a fog gathered around them. “A waking dream? My, what a rare occurrence for a Bloom, much less a Dormant or Bud!”

“How is this possible for a fey-touched?” Stephen’s stoic face looked to the devil for answers. “I can’t enter a waking dream as a full-blooded dragon, and I’ve entered the Dream.”

Chelsea’s cute, brown-haired college girl disguise was stripped away, revealing the giggling succubus as she spun in a slow circle. “It’s not. Careful, Stephen, take the wrong step and you’ll be lost within the feywilds… Not somewhere a dragon wants to be. Let’s watch; I’ll intervene if it gets out of hand. Something tells me we’re about to witness something special!”

“What really is this?” Jade asked, in a partial-daze as something bloomed within her, crying out to her for help. “There’s something not right about the wood…twisted and unnatural.”

Stephen moved beside her, watching her slide her fingers down its length, a curious crease to his brow now while observing the enclosing white fog. She could feel his restrained power now, easily capable of destroying her to the very soul, but it didn’t intimidate her—she didn’t have room to feel intimidated.

Jade only half-paid the succubus and dragon any mind while sorting through the complex contrast of emotions seeping out from deep within her; they met something longing to be remembered…to not be forgotten. Her fingertips glazed down the black wood, feeling a corruption of purpose; she’d touched trees like this before…but when? The answer was obvious, when she was five. Had she been five?

Only questions swirled through her mind, a longing for reprieve, and a band constricted around her chest, the warm breeze pulling her rose-pink locks into view. Words touched her lips, spoken by someone else, lost in the fight for mercy…someone who should not be here.

“The rising moon…the setting sun.” Goosebumps crawled over her arms as the fog grew stronger, and Chelsea hopped forward with a light gasp of fascination, listening intently. “What’s left to prove… What’s lost is gone. What’s left to lose…”

Stephen placed a hand on her shoulder, but Jade was being pulled into a trance, murky images and emotions isolating them within a cyclone of resonating magic; she was connected to the corrupted feywood—a noble tree above all others—a home lost.

The hollow toll of a bell rang in the distance, a memory long forgotten, locked within the blackened wood. A sorrowful hum reverberated around them with the gongs that rippled through Jade’s blood, the chants of armies ringing throughout time.

An ethereal woman of mystical vines, wood, and moss emerged from the cycling mist, her perfect face showing a mournful beauty as she repeated the memories of her past…to remember her failure.

“The rising moon…the setting sun. If the crown fits, and the sword lifts…stay on guard, don’t lay your weapons down. As the song lilts, and the world tilts…stay on guard, don’t lay your weapons down. Don’t sleep too soon…come fire or flood. What’s won is won, but it can always be…undone.”

A tear fell down Jade’s eye as she reached out her hand and took the dryad’s outstretched fingers, faint and cold…locked in twisted torment. She heard her cry as if desperate arms wrapped around her heart.

“Save me, Luminary… Free me from this prison to return to the feywild. Allow me to rest from my failing. Do not abandon me to this hell…”

Just as quickly as it came, Jade felt the strength within her fleeting and the opened box within her closing. Legs shaking, Stephen caught her before she fell, and the fog was swept away with the last cry of the fading bell of a battlefield lost to time. He supported her as she found her feet; not a battle from centuries ago…but ages past.

“She’s trapped within the wood…” Jade breathed, her throat thick while looking up at the black structure of the feyiron. Stephen’s strong arms kept her from collapsing as she realized what she was looking at. The ethereal, otherworldly metal acted like spikes, jailing the dryad’s contorted shape into this world with potent magic beyond her understanding. “I know what I need to do.”

Stephen reluctantly let go of her shoulders as she forced herself up. In her mind’s eye, she saw the distant queen of dryads staked to the guillotine, forced to hold every fey that was subjugated to this tortuous prison, forced her to be a part of it…for those souls to be trapped within the feyiron to join her fey, and now, so much more over countless years.

“She’s screaming for help.”

Letting the tears freely fall down her cheeks while resonating with the broken past queen’s pained heart, determination set in Jade’s chest. She fell to her knees to place her neck within the slot. This wasn’t right. How did this even happen?

“Do it.”

She saw Stephen’s slight uncertainty, his draconic eyes drifting to the druid, who nodded without a hint of emotion on his face.

“She called you a Luminary…” he whispered. “A Wilding Luminary? Whatever that is, this blade was forged to take the life of the High Queen and High King of the feywild, Jade. The dragons created it to be one of the most powerful execution artifacts in existence. If you are at least half-fey…it will kill you.”

A mournful giggle shook Jade’s chest as she felt more sure of something than anything in her life. She stared down at the fey blood dying the arena silver, still hearing the dethroned, crying dryad queen. She slowly shook her head, her heart heavy while staring at the ebony wood.

“Well, it’s nice to see you actually care,” Jade said with a forced laugh, having an undeniable feeling within her that helped to settle her thumping heart; something about what he’d just said regarding this device sounded…wrong. “I may not know much, Stephen… Really, I don’t know anything about this world…but I know I have to do this.”

Jade tuned them out as Chelsea made a few more jokes, feeling the tortured arms of someone wrap around her the second her throat rested on the execution slot. She’d never met this woman, whoever she was—Jade knew that—but she didn’t need to know her. Jade’s heart was a cool brook, clear and with purpose for the first time in her life. At least she was sure about one thing in this insane nightmare, and ironically, it was about her execution.

“I've been in worse situations—not many, but a few. Like that time in the haunted asylum... now that was a mess,” she chuckled, placing a reassuring hand on the quivering wood. “I can’t tell you why…but she needs me.”

“She needs you?” Chelsea hummed, now sounding thoughtful as Stephen prepared to drop the blade. “Who are you talking about? I don’t sense insanity in your voice… It rings true.”

Jade gulped, experiencing mournful hope within the wood her neck rested on. “She called my name the second I saw this guillotine…and I’ve always wanted to feel wanted…needed,” she swallowed again, unable to hold back tears.

Closing her eyes, she breathed out any residual fear. “I’ve always followed my gut…and it says to pull the lever. Someone is waiting for me.”

A short pause followed, Stephen sounding unsure.

“Chelsea, she really isn’t acting like a fey, and I feel something is…off.”

Jade smiled. “What, having second thoughts, handsome? Don’t go falling for me. Oh, no…I’m starting to sound like a succubus. It’s the magical influence…probably. End it!”

“Beiric?” Stephen asked, looking toward the elder.

A momentary pause later, Jade felt the thump of the lever, the slide of the screaming blade—she tensed as it came closer. Bracing for the worst, its cool metal sliced through her neck…and phased right into it, leaving her unscathed. Instead, a key slid into place, and a pulse shook the frame.

Shouts came from the crowd, and Jade opened her eyes to a sea of emerald flames that flowed around her. A soft vibration came from the blade, and it slid out of place, falling past her face to clatter across the floor, its edge showing chips and small cracks.

Wood crumbling away, Jade pushed herself up, feeling lightheaded as a mystical woman materialized from the green energy—a dryad—arms open and wrapping her in an embrace. From the opposite direction, stalwart, strong hands pulled her in, and Jade’s vision washed away as she was carried into the mists. She knew her name now as if woven into her through the feyiron blade lying on the stone before her.

Thallia’s voice was filled with liberation, reverence, and loyalty. “Second to none… Willing and able. Call forth the chosen one. Queen by acceptance and fable… Higher, farther, onward and upward… Who will fall on bended knee? Who will lift their neck, and lay down their life for me? I will await you in the Dream.”

The tragic answer left her lips as Thallia vanished in the flames. “This prison wasn’t created by dragons or even to kill… This is feycrafted…by the High Queen of the feywild herself to punish the Dryad Queen. She was forced to participate in the execution of all those who refused to abandon her.”

Chelsea knelt down beside her, a small frown on her lips as she touched the burning wood of Thallia’s twisted form around Jade’s neck.

“Well, isn’t that a surprise… I couldn’t, and still cannot sense her soul, but if it was the fey High Queen herself that transformed her into this, then I doubt even a Sovereign of Hell would see it, much less a newly Flowered Archdevil like myself.”

Stephen knelt down beside her, his hand coming into view as Jade’s vision began to wash out. His cadence was cool and thoughtful. “She survived… What do you mean this wasn’t created by the dragons? You believe her, Doctor Chelsea? Was this artifact always a fey queen?”

The devil giggled as Jade saw her shimmering hair fluttering to the side, now glowing the same color as cherry blossoms. “She doesn’t have a false bone on her body, dear. What you see is what you get… We’ll have to change that. And is it really that difficult to imagine the fey High Queen having some connection to the dragons?”

Her barbed tail flicked with delight, her infernal yellow eyes alight with glee. “In fact, it makes far more sense from a devil’s perspective. Wars on that scale aren’t fought over nothing, and I can think of a few devilish acts that could have sparked it…much of which stem from behind closed doors.”

Chelsea’s entertained words tickled her ear, close, soft, and hot as the energy infusing her whole body pulled her into mists. “You don’t realize that you’ve turned Stephen’s world upside down, my little troublemaker. You’ve shot a bullet you cannot take back… I can’t wait to see what chaos you’ll spark.”

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