Our story begins with Abella in her cosy treehouse in Woodlands Hollow, organising her possessions for her Fairy Trek. She’s surrounded by magical trinkets, books, and glowing jars of pixie dust.
Abella’s wings fluttered nervously as she rummaged through her belongings. “Map, check. Pixie dust, check. Magic binoculars…” She spun around, scanning the cluttered shelves. “Oh, there you are!” She plucked the sparkling binoculars from a stack of spell books.
The binoculars, enchanted with a spell of foresight, allowed Abella to spot obstacles far ahead on her path or, on occasion, her future self, tripping over those obstacles.
Valyndria Arrives
Valyndria is an air sylph she is a veritable whirlwind of energy and a sharp wit. She zips in through the open window, a swirling cloud of silver mist with a faint glow, before solidifying into a graceful, winged fairy the size of a canary.
Valyndria: (hovering upside-down) “Well, if it isn’t Miss ‘Chosen One’ herself. Ready to conquer forests, climb mountains, and face unspeakable danger, all before tea time?”
Abella: (huffing, tossing a scarf into her bag) “Very funny. I was chosen because I have vision and ideas.”
Valyndria: (grinning) “And because no one else volunteered.”
Abella: (rolling her eyes) “Someone has to do something! Magic is fading, Valyndria. If we don’t do something, there won’t be a single glowing river, nor singing flowers and all the sea buckthorn will have gone.”
Valyndria: (dramatically) “Oh dear, that’s awful. Imagine a world without singing flowers how would we survive without their endless serenades of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Leafy Star’?”
Abella: (trying not to laugh) “You’ll thank me when I save magic, you know you will.”
The Map and the Binoculars
The glowing map Abella carries is enchanted to show her the safest paths, though it has a mischievous streak and sometimes changes direction to keep things “interesting.”
Abella: (holding the map up) “Okay, the map says to head northeast toward the Whispering Woods. Should be easy enough.”
Valyndria: (peeking over her shoulder) “Are you sure it’s not upside-down again? Remember the Pixie Orchard incident?”
Abella: (snapping the map shut) “That only happened once! And I thought the orchard was lovely, even if the pixies weren’t too happy about us trampling their bilberries.”
Abella hangs the binoculars carefully and proudly around Abella’s neck, their lenses shimmering like tiny rainbows.
Abella: (adjusting the binoculars) “I’m just glad these are working properly now. Last time, they showed me a tree branch too late to stop me from walking into it, I’m sure they did it on purpose”
Valyndria: (snickering) “I’m pretty sure the binoculars work fine it’s the user that needs to be in focus.”
As they begin their Fairy Trek along the winding path through the countryside, the two banter to pass the time.
Valyndria: (flying in lazy circles) “So, what exactly do you plan to say at the Great Fairy Moot? ‘Hi, I’m Abella, and I think magic should have more sparkles and less paperwork?’”
Abella: (playfully swatting at her) “No! I’m going to tell them we need to understand magic is changing and perhaps adapt magic for the future make it accessible to everyone.”
Valyndria: “Accessible to everyone? Even frogs and salamanders? Because last time you enchanted one, it started quoting poetry.”
Abella: (grinning) “That was a creative salamander and they know all about change! And besides, I think he liked it.”
Valyndria: (mock dramatic) “We’re doomed. Magic’s fate is in the hands of a frog-enchanter.”
Abella: “Keep talking like that, and I’ll use my magic to turn you into a talking feather duster.”
Valyndria: (laughing) “Fine, fine. Lead on, oh fearless leader.”
The Fairy Trek: The Whispering Woods and the Repeating Bridge
As Abella and Valyndria head off towards the Whispering Woods, the trees part to reveal a simple wooden bridge stretching over a river. The bridge seems to shimmer and hum, echoing every sound made nearby.
Abella: (peering through her magic binoculars) “There it is, the Repeating Bridge! That’s the only way across.”
Valyndria: (perched on Abella’s shoulder, wings twitching) “It doesn’t look so bad. I mean, it’s just a bridge.”
Bridge: (in a booming voice, mimicking Valyndria) “Just a bridge!”
Valyndria: (startled, almost tumbling Abella’s shoulder) “Hey! Don’t you start!”
Bridge: (laughing, still mimicking her) “Hey! Don’t you start!”
Abella: (giggling) “I think the bridge likes you.”
Valyndria: (glaring at the bridge) “Very funny. Let’s just cross.”
As Abella steps forward, the bridge shimmers more intensely, and a glowing, floating scroll appears in the air before them. The scroll unfurls, revealing magical script.
Abella: (reading aloud) “To cross the Repeating Bridge, you must solve this riddle. Speak the answer aloud, or the bridge will repeat your steps forever.”
Valyndria: (mock horror) “Forever? Ugh, can you imagine walking back and forth for all eternity? I’d get wing cramps.”
Abella: (smirking) “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. What’s the riddle?”
The Riddle
The scroll glows brighter as the riddle is revealed:
“I speak without a tongue,
I hear without ears,
I’m born in the wind
And vanish in tears.
What am I?”
Valyndria: (tilting her head) “Huh. Born in the wind? Vanish in tears? This bridge is poetic.”
Abella: (thinking aloud) “Okay, so… it’s something that speaks but doesn’t have a tongue. Maybe it’s… um…”
Valyndria: (hovering excitedly) “Oh! Oh! Is it me? I can talk, and I don’t have a tongue! Wait, no, I do hear with ears. Never mind.”
Abella: (chuckling) “You’re not the answer to everything, Val. Let’s think. Born in the wind…”
Valyndria: (snapping her tiny fingers) “A song? Songs can be carried on the wind.”
Abella: “Maybe, but how do they vanish in tears?”
Valyndria: (gasps) “A whisper! It’s a whisper! Whispers are born in the wind, they can speak without a tongue, and they disappear if someone cries or laughs too loud!”
Abella: (grinning) “That’s it! Let’s try it.”
The Solution
Abella steps forward confidently and speaks clearly: “A whisper!”
The bridge glows brightly and hums in approval. The scroll rolls itself up and vanishes, while the voice of the bridge booms:
Bridge: “A whisper! You are wise and worthy. Cross freely, trekkers.”
Valyndria: (crossing the bridge, puffing out her chest) “Did you hear that? Wise and worthy! That’s me!”
Abella: (laughing) “You’re only half of that answer, featherbrain.”
Valyndria: (mock indignation) “I’ll have you know I carried at least 50% of the thinking back there.”
Abella: (smirking as they step onto the other side) “And 100% of the dramatics.”
The two laugh as they leave the bridge behind, the chasm below echoing their joyful voices as the trek continues.
The Whispering Woods and the Storm of Lost Wishes
Abella and Valyndria make their way along the road towards the Whispering Woods in the distance, a labyrinth of ancient trees whose leaves shimmer like emeralds. A quiet, eerie breeze carries soft murmurs, as though the trees themselves are whispering secrets to one another. The air grows cooler with every step, and a faint mist curls along the ground.
As they venture deeper, the sky above dims unnaturally, though it is still daytime. A sudden chill sweeps through the woods, and the whispers grow louder, almost frantic. The leaves rustle violently, though there is no visible source of the wind.
Abella: (shivering) “This… doesn’t feel right. The map didn’t mention anything about a storm.”
Valyndria: (her voice shaking, wings fluttering to stay aloft) “I don’t think it’s just any storm, Abella. Look!”
Above them, dark, swirling clouds gather at an alarming speed. The air becomes heavy, as if filled with unspoken sorrow. The temperature drops sharply, and the once calm breeze escalates into fierce gusts, tugging at Abella’s hair and Valyndria’s tiny wings.
Valyndria: (clutching Abella’s shoulder) “It’s the Storm of Lost Wishes! My grandmother told me about it it’s no ordinary storm. It steals your most precious possessions dear.”
Abella: (grimly) “Perfect. Just what we need.”
Caught in the Storm
The wind howls as it intensifies, lifting leaves and dust into a glowing vortex. The mist on the ground spirals upward, creating shimmering tendrils that embrace Abella and Valyndria. Suddenly, a powerful gust lifts them off their feet.
Abella: (yelling) “Hold on to me, Valyndria!”
Valyndria: (clinging tightly to Abella’s collar) “I am holding on! You hold on to the ground!”
They are spun high into the air, tumbling helplessly through the vortex. Abella’s satchel slips from her shoulder, and her map is ripped from her hands, swirling into the storm.
Abella: (reaching for it) “No! The map!”
Valyndria: (gritting her teeth) “Forget the map, we have enough problems as it is. We have to get out of this!”
The storm howls louder, its whispers now clear: fragments of wishes spoken long ago echo in the air.
The words are haunting and melancholic, pulling at their emotions. Finally, the storm hurls them downward. Abella crashes to the ground, both her knees scraping against the rough, stoney earth. Valyndria tumbles beside her, landing in a puff of silvery mist.
The Aftermath
The storm fades as quickly as it appeared, leaving the woods eerily silent again. Abella props herself up slowly, wincing as she inspects small cuts and grazes on her knee and her battered boots.
Valyndria: (shaking off dust, her wings drooping) “Well. That was awful.”
She flutters over to Abella and begins rummaging through the remains of the satchel.
Valyndria: (pulling out a tiny cloth) “Hold still. Let me clean these up before it gets infected. Fairy scratches are no joke.”
Abella: (looking around, distracted) “The map… it’s gone. How are we supposed to know where to go now?”
Valyndria: (dabbing the cut with a gentle touch) “We’ll figure it out. You’ve still got your binoculars, and you’ve got me your very own winged guide extraordinaire.”
Abella: (smiling weakly) “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.”
Valyndria: (pretending to take offense) “Rude! If I wasn’t so good at first aid, I’d let you bleed.”
The two fairies stand, bruised but determined. With no map to guide them, Abella takes a deep breath and raises her binoculars, scanning the path ahead.
Abella: “Let’s find our way, Valyndria. We’ve come too far to turn back now.”
Valyndria: (hovering beside her) “That’s the spirit. And next time, let’s dodge the storm instead of trying to fight it, okay?”
The two laugh as they press onward, the shimmering trees of the Whispering Woods whispering softly ahead of them.
Approaching the House of Lapidus
After the storm settles, Abella and Valyndria find themselves stumbling through the woods. The path opens into a small clearing where a peculiar house comes into view a giant teapot perched beside a shimmering pond. The house’s spout puffs small clouds of steam, and its windows glow warmly in the moonlight.
Valyndria: (perched on Abella’s shoulder) “Okay, that’s either the most adorable house I’ve ever seen or a giant’s forgotten tea party.”
Abella: (limping, looking down at her torn boots) “It doesn’t matter what it is—if someone lives here, maybe they can help. I can’t trek to the Council like this.”
The wooden door creaks open before they can knock, and out steps Lapidus, a stout leprechaun with a wiry red beard and suspenders that look like they’ve seen a hundred years of wear. A small hammer dangles from his belt, glowing faintly with magical energy.
Lapidus: (gruffly) “Well, well. If it isn’t two wee travellers lookin’ worse for wear. What brings ye to my doorstep at this hour?”
The Meeting
Abella: (politely) “Good evening, sir. I’m Abella, and this is Valyndria. We’ve just come through the Storm of Lost Wishes, and… well…” (gesturing to her boots) “It didn’t go easy on my shoes.”
Lapidus: (squinting at the boots) “Ah, a nasty storm, that one. Chews up more than just wishes, eh? Let me guess—it swiped somethin’ important from ye, too?”
Abella: (sighing) “Our map.”
Valyndria: (crossing her arms) “And a chunk of her confidence.”
Lapidus: (grinning) “Ah, well, a map I can’t fix, but boots? Boots I can mend. Come in, lass. Ye won’t get far without proper soles.”
He gestures them inside, where the interior is as charming as the exterior: shelves lined with jars of glittering tools, tiny golden cogs, and scraps of leather. A small fire crackles in the teapot’s belly, casting a cosy glow.
Repairing the Boots
Lapidus sets Abella’s boots on a workbench made of polished wood and pulls out his enchanted hammer, which hums faintly as it touches the leather.
Lapidus: (examining the boots) “These’ve seen some wear, haven’t they? Fairy boots are fine for flutterin’ about, but they’re nae built for trekkin’ through storms. Hold on, I’ll patch ‘em up better than new.”
With a practiced hand, Lapidus works quickly but with care. He threads golden stitching into the boots, muttering an incantation under his breath. The leather glows briefly before smoothing itself out, the tears sealing like they’d never been there.
Valyndria: (watching, wide-eyed) “Wow, is that all skill, or is the hammer doing the work?”
Lapidus: (winking) “Bit o’ both, lass. The hammer knows what the boots need, but it’s me hands that guide it.”
The soles of the boots are reinforced with a flexible silver lining, and Lapidus etches a small rune onto the side of each one.
Abella: (curious) “What’s that rune for?”
Lapidus: (grinning) “Ah, just a wee bonus—makes the boots a touch lighter and stronger. Ye won’t be feelin’ every pebble on the path, that’s for sure.”
Abella: “In return as payment here is some purple ivy” she removes the ivy from her satchel as I know you use them to make laces for your boots and some gormberries to flavour your biscuits.
A Gift for the Journey
When the boots are done, Lapidus hands them back to Abella.
Abella: (slipping them on) “They’re perfect! Thank you so much, Lapidus.”
Valyndria: (nodding approvingly) “Yeah, nice work, leprechaun. How much do we owe you?”
Lapidus: (chuckling) “Nothin’ at all, lass. But if ye happen to see the Great Fairy Moot, tell ‘em Lapidus of the Teapot House is still waitin’ on that pot of gold they owe me. Been three hundred years, it has!”
Abella: (laughing) “Deal. We’ll let them know.”
Bidding Farewell
As they step out of the teapot house, their spirits feel lighter, and Abella’s steps no longer falter.
Valyndria: (nudging Abella) “See? We’re already getting back on track. Storms come, storms go, but a leprechaun with a magic hammer? That’s luck.”
Abella: (smiling) “I think we might actually make it to the Council. Let’s keep moving before something else tries to stop us.”
The two wave goodbye to Lapidus, who stands in the doorway, his hammer slung over his shoulder, watching them vanish into the trees of the Whispering Woods.
Encounter with Moonicia the Asrai
Abella and Valyndria press on through the Whispering Woods, now more aware of their surroundings after the Storm of Lost Wishes. The path winds deeper into the heart of the forest, where the air grows cool and heavy with a silvery mist. The faint glow of the moon reflects on a tranquil pond nestled among the ancient trees, and at its edge, a faint shimmering figure emerges.
Valyndria: (fluttering to Abella’s shoulder) “Uh-oh. I think we’ve got company, look by the pond. The question is, friend or foe?”
Abella: (squinting, adjusting her magical binoculars) “Definitely glowing. Could be an Asrai. They’re harmless, but…a bit unpredictable.”
The figure steps closer, revealing Moonicia the Asrai. Her skin is pale as moonlight, with delicate, translucent wings that sparkle like frost. Her hair flows like liquid silver, and her luminous eyes seem to hold the mysteries of the woods.
Moonicia: (her voice soft, like a ripple on water) “Travellers… you venture where few dare to tread. The woods whisper your secrets, your fears, your desires. Beware, for they do not only whisper—they listen.”
Valyndria: (whispering to Abella) “Great. A cryptic poet. Just what we needed.”
Abella: (gently) “Greetings, Moonicia. We’re on a trek to the Great Fairy Moot. What do you mean the woods listen? Is there danger ahead?”
Moonicia glides across the pond’s surface without a ripple, her form barely disturbing the mist.
Moonicia: (sombrely) “The Whispering Woods are alive, little fairy. The trees carry the voices of those who’ve passed, but they are also hungry for stories. The unwary may find their memories stolen, their voices silenced. Do not linger, and do not trust the whispers.”
The Warning
Moonicia stretches out a hand, and a single drop of water forms at her fingertip, glowing faintly. She lets it fall back into the pond, creating ripples that shimmer like moonlight.
Moonicia: (continuing) “You must tread with care, Abella of the Binoculars, for the woods know your name. Keep your companion close, and guard your thoughts. If you must answer the whispers, speak only the truth.”
Valyndria: (crossing her tiny arms) “And if we don’t?”
Moonicia: (a ghost of a smile) “The woods love a liar, little sylph. They will keep you… for eternity.”
As the pair leave the pond behind, the air grows colder, and the woods seem to press in closer around them. The whispers begin a soft, melodic hum, like a thousand voices carried on the wind.
Valyndria: (nervously) “I don’t like this place one bit. Let’s just hope those whispers aren’t too chatty.”
Abella: (gripping the glowing vial tightly) “Stay close, Valyndria. And remember speak only the truth.”
The Journey to the Summer Palace
As Abella and Valyndria enter deeper and deeper into the Whispering Woods, the air feels alive with energy. The soft hum of the whispers grows louder, transforming into an eerie melody that seems to coil around their minds. Shadows twist and move, and the mist thickens until the path is barely visible.
Valyndria: (peeking from Abella’s satchel, her voice quivering) “This place is giving me the shivers. I swear one of those shadows waved at me.”
Abella: (determined but whispering) “We’re close to the other side, Val. The Fairy Queen’s Summer Palace isn’t far now. Focus on the path, not the whispers.”
The trees themselves seem to arch inward, creating a natural tunnel. Just as they pass a particularly gnarled oak, a shadow shifts, and a strange clicking sound fills the air.
The Rumoured Oort
Abella and Valyndria continue through the Whispering Woods, the air thick with the whispers of unseen voices. The trees loom larger here, their bark twisting into grotesque patterns, and the path narrows, littered with thick roots and patches of glowing fungi.
Valyndria: (buzzing nervously) “Why couldn’t the Fairy Moot be in a sunny meadow, with picnic blankets and lemonade?”
Abella: (stepping carefully) “Because they like to keep everyone on edge. The Whispering Woods are a test, Val. If you’re meant to be at the Moot, you’ll make it through.”
The whispering grows louder, taking on a darker, more sinister tone. A shadow shifts in the mist ahead, and a tall, arachnoid figure emerges. Its form was a grotesque amalgamation of insect and man, its segments glistening like wet chitin and its bulbous body covered with coarse brown hair. Its multifaceted eyes reflected the dim light in an eerie kaleidoscope, and long, sinewy tentacles tipped with sucker-like mouths writhed around it, searching for prey.
Valyndria: (darting behind Abella) “That’s no friendly forest critter! What in the name of moon dust is that?”
Abella: (firmly, though her wings tremble) “An Oort. I’ve heard rumours of them, but they usually stay near the caves of Nidus. It’s strange to see one this far from home.”
The Oort fixes its glowing, multifaceted eyes on them, its voice a low, buzzing rasp.
Oort: “Fairies. You dare to wander here, while your kind lets the magic wither?”
Abella raises her hands in a gesture of peace, her binoculars dangling around her neck.
Abella: “We mean no harm. We’re traveling to the Fairy Moot to discuss the very thing you speak of – the fading of magic. But it’s not our doing.”
The Oort steps closer, its legs oddly twitching, its mandibles clicking faster.
Oort: “Lies! It said sadly, the cave spiders of Nidus are gone – extinct! They wove the threads of the ley lines, kept the magic strong. Now their webs are dust, and your kind did nothing. You let them fade. You… killed them!”
Abella: (softly) “oh my, we didn’t know… The loss of the cave spiders is a tragedy, but I promise, we’re trying to fix things. Please, believe us.”
Valyndria: (whispering) “Its crying she murmured. They have feelings!”
The Oort’s sorrow twists into fury. It rears back, its tentacles slashing through the air.
Oort: “Words are nothing! Actions are everything! If you will not answer for your kind’s failure, then I will make you pay!” and with that the Oort lunges at Abella.
The Oort Attacks
Abella barely had time to scream before one of the Oort’s sucker-tipped tentacles lashed out, wrapping around her arm with a sickening squelch. She struggled, but its grip was unyielding. Another tentacle coiled around her waist, lifting her off the ground. The air filled with the sound of Valyndria’s panicked cries and the Oort’s guttural clicks.
“Let her go!” Valyndria shouted, summoning a burst of shimmering light that struck the Oort’s carapace. The creature recoiled, but only briefly. It let out an enraged screech and swung a tentacle toward the sylph, forcing her to dodge mid-air.
Abella clawed at the tentacles, but they only tightened their grip. The Oort dragged her through the woods, its movements insect-like and unnervingly fast. She was pulled into a clearing where the trees formed an almost perfect, yet menacing circle. Their branches intertwined above, creating a cage of wood and shadow. The Oort slammed her into the centre of the ring, and the trees groaned and shifted, their roots rising to imprison her in a living cell.
Valyndria darted after them, her wings beating furiously. She hovered just outside the circle, her face pale with terror.
“It’s your fault isn’t it” screamed the Oort, the pair looked at each other confused and bewildered.
As the ring of trees tightened its grasp on Abella, Valyndria’s desperate plea to the Oort finally pierced its fury. The man spider hybrid, towering and fearsome, paused. Its eyes, multifaceted and gleaming with an unnatural sheen, flickered with an almost imperceptible glimmer of something more regret, perhaps, or grief.
“…that magic,” it rasped, its voice like the grinding of stone, “is dying.”
Valyndria stood frozen, her hand clutching the bottle of sky ether, ready to free Abella as a wisp of mist. Yet the Oort’s sudden stillness gave her pause. Its sucker-tentacles quivered as it tilted its monstrous head, gazing into the shadowed depths of the forest.
A single blue tear welled up in one of the Oort’s crystalline eyes, sliding down its angular face. As it fell, it shimmered with a thousand hues of sorrow, hitting the forest floor with a faint hiss. Where the tear landed, the ground shimmered and evaporated, leaving behind a small, radiant blue crystal. It pulsed faintly, exuding a warmth that felt both alive and heartbroken.
Valyndria took advantage of the Oort’s hesitancy, “Abella! Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so,” Abella called, though her voice trembled. “But I can’t get out! The trees—”
The Oort loomed over her, its tentacles writhing with anticipation. Valyndria fumbled at her satchel, pulling out a small flask, a glowing bottle. “Sky ether!” she muttered. “This has to work.”
She hurled the bottle toward Abella. It shattered against the ground, releasing a swirling, iridescent mist. The vapour enveloped Abella, and she felt her body grow weightless, her form dissolving into the mist. For a moment, she was nothing but air and light, slipping through the cracks in her living wooden cage.
Abella was already reforming outside the circle. She stumbled as she regained her solidity, her heart pounding.
Valyndria stepped forward, gazing at the blue crystal on the ground her curiosity overcoming her fear. The Oort turned its gaze to her, and for a moment, the menace in its form seemed diminished. It looked at the crystal, a shard of it’s intense grief. A fragment of a world that would never be whole again.”
The Oort turned and dissolved into the shadows of the trees, its sucker-tentacles retreating into the darkness as though the creature itself could not bear to linger in a world so irrevocably broken.
Valyndria bent down, her hand hovering over the crystal. Its blue light seemed to call to her, a promise of power, understanding, and a connection to something ancient and lost. Her heart pounded as she hesitated, then snatched the crystal and slipped it into her satchel, glancing nervously at Abella, who was still recovering from her ordeal.
Abella, unaware of Valyndria’s act, stared at the broken bottle of sky ether and looked around cautiously. “Let’s get out of here before anything else happens,” she said, her voice shaky but resolute.
As they left the ring of trees, the blue crystal in Valyndria’s satchel pulsed faintly, its light unseen but carrying the weight of temptation, sorrow, and an unspoken promise.
“Run!” Valyndria screamed, grabbing her hand. Together, they fled through the forest, with the Oort’s enraged cries still echoing behind them. The trees seemed to part for them now, guiding their escape. Finally, they burst out of the forest’s shadowy embrace, collapsing onto the soft grass of a sunlit glade.
Abella clutched her chest, gasping for breath. “What was that thing?”
“The Oort,” Valyndria said grimly. “A nightmare made flesh. And it won’t stop hunting us.” And what was that smell? Musty and sickly.
Abella looked back at the dark line of the Whispering Woods. The encounter had left her shaken, but a fire of determination burned in her eyes. “Then we’ll be ready for it next time.”
Valyndria nodded, though her expression was heavy with worry. The Whispering Woods had given them their first real taste of the dangers ahead – and they knew this was only the beginning.
Aunt Baroo – The Dryad
Abella and Valyndria exited the Whispering Woods, where the air grew heavy and the tall trees whispered in a language only fairies could faintly understand. Just before the forest line stood a peculiar house a quaint cottage made of giant mushrooms, glowing softly in the twilight. It was the home of Aunt Baroo’s the Dryad.
The two adventurers approached cautiously, the golden light from the windows spilling over the mossy ground. As they reached the front door, it swung open, revealing Aunt Baroo, a stout, mischievous-looking dryad with wild curls and a crooked grin. Aunt Baroo was an oak dryad with an affinity for ancient oaks and a love of roasted acorns. She leaned on her animated broomstick, which had a face etched into its wood, complete with a set of grumpy eyes and a perpetually downturned mouth.
“Abella! My little mischief-maker!” Aunt Baroo greeted with a cackle, her eyes twinkling with fondness. “And who’s this wee flutterer?”
“I’m Valyndria, air sylph extraordinaire,” Valyndria announced with a dramatic bow, her tiny wings catching the light.
Abella announced “Oh Aunt Baroo are we so pleased to see you, you’ll never believe what we have been through and the pair recounted their terrifying experience in the Whispering woods!
The trio stepped inside the cosy cottage, where the scent of herbs, spices, and something sweet wafted through the air. Aunt Baroo listened intently to the Oort encounter whist busying herself brewing honey leaf tea.
Aunt Baroo listens intently to the encounter with the Oort, when the two had finished the room fell silent as Abella, Valyndria and the broom waited for the Dryad to say something.
Quietly Aunt Baroo said, “You have witnessed something I’ve only heard the elders whisper off. The blue crystal that was formed from the Oort’s tear, is a rare and powerful magical artifact called a “Shard of Sorrow.” These shards are created when immense grief or loss is expressed by beings tied deeply to magic, like the Oort. The crystal holds the essence of their emotion, making it both a symbol of their pain and a potent source of magical energy.
The blue crystal represents the profound consequences of magic fading from our world. The Oort’s grief over the extinction of the cave spiders of Nidus is not just personal – it’s symbolic of the larger problem. You see the spiders maintained the ley lines, which are crucial channels of magical energy.
When the spiders died the ley lines went with them and the whole fabric of magic itself has now begun to unravel. The crystal serves as a clue and a call to action for Abella and Valyndria to understand the urgency of their mission to restore balance.
Aunt Baroo went on to explain, “The crystal may also hold the key to understanding the Oort’s actions. It’s possible that the Oort is not acting entirely of its own will but is being influenced by the magic of the shard. It’s intense grief and anger might have amplified its confusion, that could well be the reason it lashed out at Abella and Valyndria.
If you Abella, the fairy guide, had the shard, you might be able to calm the Oort or even gain its help in restoring magic.
Valyndria’s Secret
Valyndria had instinctively grabbed the blue crystal during the Oort confrontation, she knew it was important but decided not to tell Abella. She felt a little protective of Abella given the dangers of their Fairy Trek. She was curious about the crystal and felt driven to pick it up and was even drawn to the crystal’s faint hum of magical energy, feeling a deep connection to it. Valyndria was also concerned that something so powerful might be difficult to control for Abella given the stakes involved with the Great Fairy Moot so close. The question was though was anyone able to control it?
As they travel further toward the Fairy Queen’s Summer Palace, Abella begins to notice Valyndria acting strangely. She fidgets more than usual, keeps flying in circles as though trying to distract herself, and avoids Abella’s questions about the Oort encounter.
Abella: (frowning) “You’re jittery, even for you. Did the Oort rattle your wings that badly?”
Valyndria: (nervously) “Me? Rattled? No! Just… thinking about all the rock cakes I’m going to eat at the palace feast!”
Abella: (squinting suspiciously) “Right. The feast. That explains why you keep avoiding eye contact.”
The Crystal’s Influence and A Growing Rift
Valyndria begins to feel the crystal’s effects. The sorrow it holds occasionally seeps into her emotions, causing her to experience sudden waves of melancholy. These moments contrast sharply with her usually bubbly personality.
One night as they camp, she dreams of the cave spiders of Nidus, watching their webs disintegrate and fade. The dream seems too vivid to be just a product of her imagination – it feels like a memory imbued by the crystal.
Valyndria: (whispering to herself) “This thing… it’s more than just a shiny rock. But what does it want me to do?”
The secret begins to strain their bond. Abella notices Valyndria growing more distant and erratic but chalks it up to the pressures of their journey. At the same time, Valyndria struggles with guilt, especially as she realises the crystal might hold the key to restoring magic.
The Summer Palace
The Summer Palace stood as a masterpiece of natural architecture, its towering wooden spires seeming to grow organically from the surrounding forest. The Great Hall, nestled within the largest tree of the palace, radiated a warm golden glow, the light streaming from its high, arched windows crafted from amber-hued glass. Intricate carvings of ancient magical symbols adorned the walls, and the floor, made of polished wood, reflected the grandeur of the gathering.
Inside the Great Hall, the atmosphere buzzed with the energy of countless fae beings. The air was heavy with the mingling of ancient magics, and every attendee carried an aura that spoke of their origin and power.
Who is at the Great Fairy Moot?
Those attending the Great Moot were a spectacular collection of fairies and the world of magic and came from far and wide. They were of all sizes both ethereal and physical, the quick witted and those with powerful, muscular bodies each possessing a magic power of their own.
There were Sylphs of the air and sky slender and graceful in their light, airy colours either white or pale blue and very small, mischievous Pixies with their pointed hats. From other countries there were Giant Gruagach Scottish protectors of cattle and livestock, Nymphs of all kinds Dryads of the Forests, Naiads of freshwater streams and Oceanids of the seas. Skilled craftsmen that are the underground Gnomes in red hats with the Goblins, skilled blacksmiths and tiny elemental Sprites and Fae (Fairies). Will-o’-the-Wisp appearing as small floating lights. as well as Brownies from Scotland, and Tylwyth Teg from Wales, Korrigans from Brittany in France and even the super tiny English Pillywiggins no bigger than a thumbnail. Most impressive of all where the Alven (Elves) known to interact with humans with the power of invisibility and an affinity to water flowing or still.
As Abella and Valyndria entered the hall, they paused, overwhelmed by the sheer diversity and magnificence of the attendees. The room seemed alive, each group bringing its own unique energy and presence.
The Great Hall of the Summer Palace was a marvel of nature and magic entwined, its vaulted ceiling a canopy of intertwining branches that shimmered with enchanted leaves. The walls were alive with subtle movements of glowing vines and luminescent flowers, and the air carried a symphony of soft whispers and chiming bells, as though the palace itself hummed in anticipation of the gathering. At the centre of the hall, a grand circular table made from an ancient oak’s heartwood polished to a mirror-like sheen that reflected the enchanted chandelier above, which floated gently like a constellation of glowing stars.
The High Table
At the far end of the hall, elevated slightly on a platform of moss-covered stone, stood the High Table, where the Alven hosts of the Great Fairy Moot presided. The Alven, in their usual elegance, had meticulously arranged the agenda for the meeting. Golden scrolls with flowing scripts of elvish runes were spread across the table, detailing the sequence of discussions, with sections devoted to grievances, proposals, and magical resolutions. Beside these scrolls were crystal pitchers filled with shimmering nectar and platters of delicacies, each representing the culinary traditions of the different fae realms.
Golden braziers emitted a warm, inviting glow that danced off the polished wood and stone. The ceiling’s enchanted leaves twinkled softly, mirroring the starry night sky, creating an ambiance of both grandeur and intimacy.
Abella’s Reaction and Accusation
As the Dryad recounted the story of Faeloria, Abella’s face hardened with a mix of empathy and frustration. “But surely,” she began, standing to address the room, “the lessons of Faeloria show us the dangers of ignoring balance. The ley lines, the woods – they don’t just belong to one kingdom. They belong to all of us. If we work together, we can begin to restore what was lost!”
Her voice echoed in the hall, and for a brief moment, a few nodded in agreement. But a Banshee, her white hair billowing around her gaunt face, rose from her seat, her voice sharp as the wind before a storm. “Work together? You speak as if you understand, mortal-touched child! What would you know of Faeloria’s pain or the cost of magic? Do you have proof of what you claim? Words without evidence are but whispers on the wind!”
The hall erupted into murmurs of dissent. Lapidus the Leprechaun muttered to Angyss the hobgoblin, “She’s just another naive wanderer. What does she know of our struggle?” Remember her when she was a youngster? Abella, flustered but defiant, opened her mouth to retort, but the Queen Elandor raised a hand.
“Enough of this,” the Elven regent commanded. “We shall break for the feast. Perhaps the magic of the Summer Palace will clear our minds and open our hearts to reason.”
The Fairy Feast of Magic
The dining hall of the Summer Palace shimmered with enchantment. Long tables carved from ancient oak were laden with food, each dish a testament to the wonders of magic. Plates of shimmering golden fruit that pulsed with light sat next to bowls of nectar that glowed like liquid starlight. Cakes spun from clouds floated just above the table, their scents of honey and lavender filling the air.
Sylphs flitted through the room, carrying trays of translucent petals that melted on the tongue and left a cool, refreshing sweetness. A Nymph presented a platter of sparkling waterberries, their juice bursting with the taste of a dozen fruits at once. Goblins brought out roasted mushrooms the size of shields, their caps glistening with a savoury glaze, while Pixies offered cups of effervescent dewdrop wine that seemed to dance on the tongue.
At one end of the long table, the Leprechaun and the Hobgoblin, Lapipidus and Angyss were locked in a lively exchange at Abella’s expense as they recalled pranks played on her when she was no taller than a toadstool?
“Don’t think I don’t recall those boots you ‘repaired’ for her. Didn’t you lace them with enchanted red ivy?”
Lapidus’ eyes twinkled with delight, “Ah, yes. Red ivy, the finest laces from the Enchanted Glades. Lovely and sturdy, except for one small quirk…”
“Small quirk?” Angyss interrupted, cackling. “They kept coming undone every three steps!”
“And not just undone!” Lapidus added, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “They’d loop around her ankles and trip her up, plop! Down she went, right in the middle of the meadow. You should’ve seen her face, poor lass. Thought she’d been cursed by a rogue sprite.”
Angyss nearly spilled his goblet of frothing starlight cider as she laughed. “I remember her stormin’ back to you, red as a firefruit, demanding you fix them proper!”
You can talk said Except, Lapidus when we couldn’t resist swapping out her sugar crystals for pixie fizz!”
Lapidus guffawed, his laughter ringing through the hall. “Oh, the look on her face when the whole pie exploded into a cloud of sparkles the moment, she cut into it! Poor thing spent a week picking glitter out of her hair!”
The feast wasn’t just a meal – it was a performance. Magic danced in every corner. A Dryad summoned vines to weave intricate flower arrangements mid-air, their blooms bursting open in flashes of colour. Leprechauns juggled orbs of light, creating constellations that hovered above the table. Even the Will-o’-the-Wisps joined in, glowing brighter and brighter as they wove patterns of light above the feasting crowd.
But as the magic heightened, an unsettling hum began to build. The ley lines beneath the palace, already strained, quivered under the pressure. The Whispering Woods, miles away, seemed to groan as if disturbed by the imbalance.
The Oort’s Arrival
The hum grew louder, reverberating through the palace. A sudden, deafening crash shattered the revelry. The great doors of the Summer Palace were flung open with such force that one was torn from its hinges, splintering against the wall. The Oort loomed in the doorway, its monstrous figure backlit by the stormy skies.
Its insectoid body glistened with an eerie, chitinous sheen, and its humanoid torso flexed with unnatural strength. Its multifaceted eyes glowed with a furious blue light, and its voice, a guttural blend of insect clicks and distorted speech, echoed through the hall.
“You feast while the world withers!” it bellowed, pointing a jagged claw at the assembly. “You drain magic for indulgence and call it harmony. The Whispering Woods cry out, and I am their answer! “You need to answer for the ley lines, for the woods and for the cave spiders of Nidus!”
The Oort stormed into the hall, its massive feet cracking the enchanted floor. A brave Elf stepped forward to calm the creature, but the Oort swiped him aside with a single blow, sending him hurtling across the room into a column. Gasps of terror rippled through the crowd as the Elf crumpled to the ground, unconscious but alive.
Delegates scrambled to retreat, some brandishing magical defences, others frozen in fear. Valyndria instinctively moved closer to Abella, her hand clutching the pouch that held the blue crystal. The Oort’s eyes locked onto her for a moment, its gaze narrowing as though sensing the crystal’s faint power.
Chaos in the Great Hall
The Oort’s presence had a devastating influence on the magic in the room. Floating cakes crashed to the tables, their enchanted levitation failing. The delicate patterns of light woven by the Will-o’-the-Wisps flickered and vanished. A Naiad screamed as the water in her goblet boiled and evaporated.
“Stop this madness!” Queen Elandor shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. He raised a hand, summoning a barrier of light between the Oort and the delegates. But the Oort slammed against it, cracks spidering across the magical shield.
Pixies now scattered in all directions, their tiny, winged bodies streaking across the air like panicked fireflies. Banshees let out piercing screams that echoed through the hall, their mournful cries adding to the cacophony as their gaunt forms clutching at the nearest furniture for support.
The leprechauns dove under tables, their green coats flashing, clutching their golden trinkets as they disappeared. Even the proud Sylphs, normally unshakable in their grace, darted into the rafters, their tiny forms trembling with fright, while the Asrai, their translucent skin glowing faintly, clung together like droplets of dew.
Panic erupted in the Great Hall as the Oort’s fury shook the foundations of the Summer Palace. The banshees wailed, their mournful cries adding to the cacophony, while the Sylphs darted into the rafters, their tiny forms trembling with fright. Leprechauns scrambled under the tables, clutching their golden trinkets, while the Asrai, their translucent skin glowing faintly, clung together like droplets of dew.
Abella and Valyndria Respond
Abella and Valyndria stood alone in the centre of the chaos as everyone had scattered to the far corners of the hall, the Oort’s accusing gaze fixed squarely on them. Its voice was a guttural snarl, reverberating through the hall. “You have withered the forests, the streams run dry, and the Whispering Woods mourn. You have no right to speak of balance!”
Abella raised her hands defensively. “We didn’t cause this!“
The Oort’s mandibles clicked, its multifaceted eyes narrowing. “I feel the imbalance emanating from you. It grows stronger with every breath you take!”
Valyndria stiffened, her heart pounding. She felt the crystal in her pouch grow warmer, it’s strange, cold energy pulsing in time with her fear. A sudden clarity struck her, and she realized the Oort was right – the imbalance wasn’t just around them. It was inside her.
“It’s the crystal,” Valyndria whispered urgently to Abella, stepping closer. “It’s influencing me… and it’s controlling the Oort. I didn’t see it before, but I can feel it now.”
Abella’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? What crystal?”
Valyndria reached into her pouch and revealed the blue crystal, its glow brighter than ever. It seemed almost alive, its light pulsing like a heartbeat. “This,” she said softly, holding it up. “I think it’s connected to the ley lines. It’s feeding off the imbalance, making everything worse. Including the Oort.”
Abella’s shock and hurt are palpable.
Abella: (betrayed) “You’ve had it this whole time? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Valyndria: (tearfully) “I was scared! Scared of what it meant, scared of what it might do to you. And maybe… maybe I wanted to prove I could be the one to save the day.”
The Crystal’s Power and Valyndria’s Struggle
The Oort recoiled slightly at the sight of the crystal, its body shuddering as if caught between rage and confusion. “That fragment,” it growled, its voice faltering. “It is a shard of the ley lines themselves. It carries their pain, their anger… and their curse.”
Valyndria tried to hurl the crystal to the ground, but her hands refused to obey. She strained against an invisible force, her arms trembling with the effort. “It won’t let me!” she cried. “The crystal… it’s alive. It’s controlling me. I can’t destroy it!”
Abella reached for the crystal, but Valyndria pulled back. “No! If you touch it, it might take over you too.” Her voice broke with desperation. “You have to destroy it, Abella. Smash it. Please.”
“How?” Abella demanded. “You’re holding it!”
Valyndria clenched her jaw, tears welling in her eyes. “Use your binoculars. Hit it. Do whatever it takes!” She thrust the crystal forward, her hands encasing it like a prisoner offering their shackles. “Do it now!”
Breaking the Crystal
Abella hesitated, her gaze flicking between Valyndria’s trembling hands and the Oort, which loomed closer, its claws twitching with barely contained rage. The crystal’s glow intensified, casting eerie blue light across the hall. The air itself seemed to hum with its power.
“I hope you’re right about this,” Abella said, gripping her binoculars tightly.
“I am,” Valyndria whispered, her voice trembling. “Just hurry.”
With a deep breath, Abella raised the binoculars high and brought them down with all her strength. The impact shattered the crystal into countless tiny shards that scattered across the floor, each one dissolving into faint blue light before vanishing entirely.
The Spell Breaks
The moment the crystal shattered, the oppressive energy in the room lifted. The Oort froze mid-step, its glowing eyes dimming as a shudder ran through its massive frame. It stumbled back, its claws lowering as if an invisible weight had been lifted from its shoulders.
The attendees watched in stunned silence as the Oort looked around the hall, its gaze no longer filled with rage but with confusion. “Where… where am I?” it murmured, its voice softer now, almost hollow.
Abella and Valyndria exchanged a glance, their relief tempered by uncertainty. The Oort, now calm but clearly disoriented, turned to them. “What have you done?” it asked, its voice tinged with sorrow.
Valyndria took a shaky step forward. “We broke the crystal. It was controlling you… and me. We didn’t mean to hurt you.”
The Oort nodded slowly, its antennae drooping. “The crystal’s spell is broken. But the ley lines remain wounded. Your actions here are only the beginning.”
The hall remained silent, the attendees too stunned to speak. Slowly, the Oort turned and lumbered toward the shattered doors, leaving behind a room filled with broken furniture, frightened faces, and the heavy weight of unanswered questions.
The Aftermath of the Oort’s Departure
The hall remained eerily silent after the Oort lumbered away, the faint sound of its heavy footsteps fading into the distance. The shattered doors swung limply on their hinges, letting the cool night breeze spill into the Great Hall. The glowing crystal shards had vanished, leaving no trace of their presence except the lingering unease in the room.
Slowly, the gathered fae began to emerge from their hiding places. The pixies fluttered cautiously down from the rafters, the banshees ceased their wailing, and the leprechauns peeked out from under the tables. The once-grand hall bore the scars of the Oort’s fury, splintered doors, overturned chairs, and the faint shimmer of the blue crystal’s dissipated magic.
Valyndria crumpled to her knees, clutching her trembling hands to her chest. Her fingers were covered in deep, jagged cuts from the shattered crystal, and blue veins of magical residue pulsed faintly under her pale skin. Abella rushed to her side, dropping the broken binoculars and kneeling beside her.
“Valyndria, your hands!” Abella gasped. “We need to stop the bleeding.” She tore a strip from her cloak and began wrapping it around Valyndria’s hands, though the magical burns seemed to resist even the softest touch.”
Understanding the Oort’s Anger
The attendees gathered in a cautious circle around Abella and Valyndria. A tall banshee spoke first, her voice sharp but laced with awe. “The Oort was no mere beast. Its fury wasn’t its own, it was the crystal’s doing. It channelled the ley lines’ suffering through that creature.”
An elderly dryad stepped forward, her gnarled wooden staff tapping the floor as she spoke. “The Oort’s accusations weren’t wrong. The ley lines are dying. The overuse of magic has drained them. We’ve taken from the earth, from the forest, and from the rivers without thought of the cost.” Her voice trembled, and she looked down, ashamed. “Even I have been guilty of such greed.”
Murmurs rippled through the hall as the attendees began to realise the depth of their collective neglect. The whispers of blame shifted into whispers of guilt.
Healing Valyndria
One of the Gruagach, a towering figure with a beard like wild brambles, knelt beside Valyndria. He gently touched her bandaged hands, his calloused fingers surprisingly soft. “These wounds are no ordinary injuries,” he rumbled. “The crystal’s power lingers in her. She needs the healing of something purer than we can provide here.”
The old dryad nodded. “The Whispering Woods still hold ancient magic, though it grows faint. The healing waters of the Fountain of Cotera might cleanse her wounds and heal the scars. But the journey there is perilous, especially now that the ley lines are in turmoil.”
Abella looked up at the dryad, determination burning in her eyes. “Then we’ll go. Tell us the way.”
Valyndria weakly shook her head. “We can’t leave yet. The Great Moot…”
The Moot’s Self-Reflection
The Fairy Queen, who had been silent since the Oort’s departure, stood from her seat at the top table. Her voice rang clear and commanding, silencing the murmurs. “The Moot has failed in its duty to protect magic. For too long, we’ve allowed division and distrust to blind us to the cost of our actions. Magic is not limitless, nor is it ours to hoard.”
She turned to the assembled fae. “We must do more than apologise. We must act. Each of us here has a gift, a skill, or a bond with the world that magic flows through. It is time we gave something back to heal the ley lines.”
The murmurs grew louder as the attendees considered her words.
Gertie the Gruagach, a giant of a woman stepped forward, her voice gruff but steady. “The ley lines are the lifeblood of this world. If we do not tend to them, they will fail completely. And when they do, it will not just be the Oort or the Whispering Woods that suffer – it will be all of us.”
A leprechaun, his hat askew from hiding under the table, spoke up. “But what can we do? Magic is our very nature. How can we give it back when it’s what we are?”
A Vow to Restore Balance
One by one, each group pledged its part in the restoration of balance:
The Nymphs would heal the forests and waters, ensuring the ley lines flowed freely. The Goblins and Gnomes would craft tools and structures to aid in restoration, forsaking their focus on profit. The Brownies would labour tirelessly to restore homes and hearths affected by the imbalance.
The banshees pledged to sing the ancient songs of renewal, which had not been heard in centuries. The Sylphs offered to carry healing breezes to the corners of Faeloria, where the damage was greatest. The Gruagach vowed to bless the herds and fields, restoring the natural balance of the land.
Queen Elandor’s gaze softened as she addressed the gathering. “This is only the beginning. Restoring the ley lines will take time, effort, and unity. But today, we take the first step. And we owe much of that to these two mortals.”
A New Resolve
As the Moot adjourned, the attendees dispersed with renewed purpose, each faction speaking in hushed but determined tones about their contributions. Abella and Valyndria were escorted to a quiet chamber to rest, though Valyndria’s pain and exhaustion weighed heavily on both their minds.
Abella sat beside her friend, holding her uninjured shoulder. “We’ll get to the Fountain of Cotera,” she said firmly. “And we’ll figure out how to fix this mess. Together.”
Valyndria managed a weak smile. “I’m glad you smashed the crystal,” she whispered. “Even if it was in my hands.”
Abella laughed softly, though her voice was tinged with worry. “Let’s just hope the next step doesn’t involve breaking anything else.”
Outside, the shattered doors of the Summer Palace creaked in the wind. The first rays of dawn filtered through the broken hall, illuminating the shards of the crystal’s spell now vanished into light – a faint sign of hope in a world yearning for balance.
Understanding the Crystal’s Influence
Abella added, “The Oort’s anger wasn’t unjustified. It’s lived in the Whispering Woods, felt the slow drain of magic, and watched its home crumble. We’ve all benefited from magic, but we’ve forgotten the cost.”
The Alven elder nodded gravely. “It is as the Oort said. For centuries, we have taken from the ley lines, the forests, and the waters without thought of giving back. We are not blameless. Faeloria was once rich, but our greed and neglect have led us here.”
A Glimmer of Hope
As the attendees placed their hands over their hearts in solemn agreement, a faint glow filled the room. It wasn’t the cold, harsh light of the crystal, but a warm, golden radiance that seemed to emanate from the very walls of the Summer Palace. The ley lines, though wounded, had heard their pledge.
Valyndria turned to Abella, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sorrow. “This is only the beginning. The Oort’s anger was a warning, but it’s also given us a chance to make things right.”
Abella nodded. “Then let’s not waste it.”
The moot ended not in despair, but with a renewed sense of purpose. The attendees dispersed with heavy hearts but determined spirits, ready to do their part in healing the world they had taken for granted.
Ley Lines
As the early morning light seeped through the broken doors of the Summer Palace, Valyndria turned to Abella, her voice faint but curious. “Abella… can you see ley lines? What do they even look like?”
Abella paused, taken aback by the question. She had spent her life studying the natural world and magic’s subtle undercurrents, but it was rare for someone to ask her so directly. Sitting beside Valyndria, she gently adjusted the bandages on her friend’s hands before speaking.
“No, I can’t see them—not with my eyes, at least,” Abella admitted. “Ley lines aren’t like rivers or roads that you can just point to on a map. They’re currents of magic, flowing beneath the surface of the world. If you know what to look for, though, you can sense them. They feel like a hum in the air, a gentle pulse underfoot—like the heartbeat of Faeloria itself.”
Valyndria’s gaze softened. “So they’re invisible, but you can feel them?”
Abella’s expression grew sombre. “That’s the part of the story most people forget. Ley lines aren’t infinite. They can be drained, just like a well or a spring. Valyndria frowned, the weight of Abella’s words sinking in. “Is that why the Whispering Woods are dying? Because the ley lines are failing?”
“Yes,” Abella said, her voice heavy with regret. “The ley lines are like roots, and the Whispering Woods are the tree they nourish. When the ley lines were strong, the Woods were vibrant and full of life. But now…” She trailed off, her eyes distant. “Now the balance is broken. The ley lines are overburdened, and the Woods are withering because of it.”
Valyndria looked down at her hands, the faint blue veins of magical residue still visible beneath the bandages. “And the crystal… was it feeding on the ley lines too?”
Abella nodded grimly. “I think so. That’s why the Oort was drawn here. It wasn’t just angry—it was desperate. The crystal’s spell was twisting its mind, but its pain was real. The ley lines are failing, and creatures like the Oort—creatures that depend on magic to survive—are being driven to the brink.”
The Journey to the Fountain
As the goblins and gnomes hammer the final nails into the repaired doors of the Summer Palace, Abella and Valyndria prepare for the next leg of their journey. With the binoculars shattered and their map lost, they have to rely on the Sun Shard, a glowing crystal fragment of Icelandic spar gifted to them by the Alven as thanks for their bravery. The shard casts a radiant light, its glow faintly aligning with the magical currents of the ley lines, guiding them toward the elusive Fountain of Cotera.
The path is fraught with tension as the pair navigate the edges of the Whispering Woods. Abella senses the ley lines growing stronger, like a faint hum beneath her feet, but an unsettling aura lingers. The ground vibrated to multiple feet echoes in the distance, and the sharp, musky smell of the Oort fills the air. Valyndria freezes, her wounded hands clutching the Sun Shard. A shadow flickers through the trees, but then the noises fades as the shadow retreats, the smell dissipates leaving them a little shaken but unharmed. Was their insectoid fried stalking them?
The ley lines grow brighter to Abella’s perception as they press on, the Sun Shard’s glow intensifying with each step. At last, they crest a small hill and see the Fountain of Cotera below, nestled in a grove of ancient, twisted trees.
The Fountain of Cotera
The Fountain is a marvel of Faeloria’s ancient magic. Carved from a single piece of luminescent white stone, its bowl reflects the golden hues of sunlight even under the moonlit sky. The water within glimmers with an inner light, swirling in hues of silver and gold. Around the fountain, delicate blossoms glow softly, their petals appearing to hum with faint energy.
Valyndria approaches her hands trembling as she dips them into the crystalline water. The moment her fingers touch the surface, the water turns blue, rippling outward like ink spilled on parchment. The glow of the fountain dims slightly as the magic within it begins to flow into Valyndria’s shattered hands.
The Healing Ritual
A soft light encases her hands, mending the cracks, cuts and burns left by the crystal’s destruction. Abella watches intently as the process unfolds, but a pang of worry strikes her as the blue hue lingers in the fountain’s waters. When Valyndria removes her hands, they are whole again, but the fountain’s glow is slightly dimmer.
“I’m healed,” Valyndria whispers, flexing her fingers, but there’s a trace of guilt in her voice. “Have we taken too much from it?”
Abella places a hand on her shoulder. “The fountain is tied to the ley lines. As they recover, so will the fountain. It’s not gone, only giving what was needed.”
A New Purpose
The Sun Shard flickers, pointing them toward a nearby goblin workshop nestled in the cliffs beyond the grove. They must repair the binoculars to continue their mission: spreading the news of the restoration of the ley lines and encouraging the fairy folk to honour their vows to protect magic.
As they set off toward the workshop, they feel a renewed sense of purpose. The fountain behind them hums faintly, its glow returning ever so slightly as the ley lines begin to heal.
A Glimmer of Hope
The journey to restore Faeloria’s balance is far from over, but Abella and Valyndria carry with them the knowledge of what has been lost—and what can still be saved. As they walk, Abella senses the ley lines pulsing beneath her feet, a rhythmic heartbeat of magic slowly returning to life.
Yet the faint smell of the Oort lingers in the air, a reminder that their challenges are not over. But for now, they focus on their next step: finding the goblins, repairing the binoculars, and spreading the hope of renewal across Faeloria.
Epilogue
The Oort lumbered through the barren landscape of Nidus, her many legs clicking softly against the cracked earth. The once-thriving caves, once teeming with life, were now silent and desolate, their echoes swallowed by an oppressive stillness. She approached the entrance of a cave, dark and foreboding, the air around it warm and damp like a heavy exhalation from the earth itself.
Inside, the cave was a world of shadows and moisture. Stalactites dripped steadily, their droplets falling into shallow pools that mirrored faint glimmers of light from the cave’s entrance. The walls were slick with condensation, and the ground, though uneven, was soft and yielding beneath her many feet. A humid warmth clung to the air, wrapping around her as she moved deeper into the darkness.
Reaching the farthest wall, the Oort hesitated, her massive form dwarfing the confined space. She shuffled backward slowly, her legs finding purchase in the damp ground as she pressed herself against the cold stone. With a deliberate motion, she began to burrow, her powerful limbs scraping the earth, creating a shallow depression in the cavern floor.
Once nestled, she stilled, her body gently contracting and expanding in a rhythmic motion, like the heartbeat of the cave itself. Time seemed to stretch as the Oort performed this silent ritual, a full cycle of effort and rest, her purpose concealed in the dim recesses of the cavern.
When the cycle was complete, she rose, shaking loose bits of earth and stone from her segmented body. Without a sound, she exited the cave, her shadow blending into the encroaching darkness outside.
As the faint light of the cave entrance touched the ground she had disturbed, something caught the eye—hundreds of tiny, glistening shapes, nestled like fragile treasures in the warm, damp earth. They were small, no larger than grains of rice, yet they shimmered with an otherworldly lustre, their delicate forms coated in a thin, moist sheen.
And then, the memory surfaced, distant but unmistakable – spider eggs.
The cave, once silent, now held the promise of life. The Oort had not merely returned to mourn what was lost but to lay the foundation for renewal. The cave of Nidus, barren no longer, pulsed faintly with the hope of rebirth, the delicate eggs cradled in the embrace of the earth, waiting for their time to hatch and restore what had been taken.