The serene golden light falls on my face and reminds me of the time when I put on its crown. The star shows me visions of glory and victory, but takes me away from its so disgusting and brilliant peace. The pure light pierces the treetops like a sword and commands the gloom to fall apart.

  Created by the colossal trunks, the shadows that were supposed to cover the ground with night hide to bounded areas. Bright eyes hide in them, reminding me that, one day, night will come, and I will have to deal with its presence. Until that happens, though, all you can do is hear the sound of my footsteps crushing the emerald grass.

  Heavy footsteps echo through the forest. I pick up speed and jump from tree to tree, then set fire to one or the other monster and use the shadows to teleport a few meters in front.

  Cold sweat trickles down my warm skin, but we had finally escaped and reached a road.

  I breathe in. The yellow cloud still hangs over the horizon, but far away, harmless until it approaches. Tiny, the giant turtle, slowly flattens through the skies until he lands on the ground, carrying the wooden hut we built on his shell. A cloud of dust rises and the ground shakes for a few seconds when she does.

  “… Good girl.” I say, throwing an apple for her to eat.

  Morgana manifests above her hoof, this time in the flesh. Her dress is blue this time, and white raven feathers warm her neck. She bends down, graceful, and strokes the turtle for a few seconds before floating to the ground and reaching out, high, beside me.

  “Tiny is tired. We must walk for now.”

  Snitch. I should have gone on top of the turtle, but Hoffstein took the opportunity to train my intensification. I had gained a few pounds in the last month, my lean body gained a little shape, but nothing too much.

  Speaking of him,

  The hero falls to the ground, flexes his legs, and then rises from the crater. “All clear.” He says. “How are you?”

  “Tired, hungry, angry…”

  “Good!” He laughs. “And you, huh?!” He tells Tiny, stroking the turtle too. He turns to me. “Come on, thank Tiny too!”

  “Uh… Animals run away from me. I don't think that's a good idea.”

  “That's not going to happen.” Hoffstein says. “I'm here.”

  “…?”

  For some reason, I believed him. I approach Tiny, still afraid he's going to rip my hand off. I extend my arm and-

  “SNAP!” Hoffstein shouts and pulls me back, then laughs in my face.

  “Haha.” I roll my eyes, then I touch the giant turtle. The texture of his skin is Strange and wet, rough, slippery. She doesn't run. It seems to like it, actually.

  As I move my hand, the pieces fall into place. Hoffstein doesn't seem to be affected by the chaos, and Morgana said the only way for a Metamagic—absolute—to be canceled is by using his own. Next to him, animals do not fear me, something that also happens when next to Morgana, a fairy.

  “Order.” I say. “Your metamagia is order. You are my opposite.”

  Hoffstein crosses his arms. “Aye.”

  I Pat Tiny, and she looks satisfied enough to continue. “Good girl.” I say, then I turn away and turn to Hoffstein. “… Thanks.”

  Hoffstein shrugs. “Come on!”

  I breathe in. I need a bath, but apparently I won't get one until the end of the day. Having nothing else to do, I prepare myself and continue walking. Morgana stands to my left, strangely and comfortably close. Hoffstein on the right side, with the Halberd resting on his trapeze while scratching his beard and watching the weird animals of the dimension. Tiny makes some noises from time to time.

  “By the way, what road is this?”

  “I don't know. It's not important.” Hoffstein says. “As long as it takes us to the place we have to go.”

  “It seems convenient.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The fairy world is a place of meaning.” Morgana says. “While it affects your imagination, it also influences it. Maybe there's a reason the road is here. Maybe not. But she is, and always has been, but maybe she won't be next time.”

  “None of this made the slightest sense.”

  “Aye! Not to have.”

  “Hm.”

  The walk continues, quiet. If it weren't for my exhausted body, I'd find it comfortable. Minutes become hours as our pace lingers and Morgana decides to continue our lessons on Magic. She says the theory, so usually we practice it using Hoffstein as a test dummy—not that anything affected him in the first place.

  It's been a month since Aldwyn's defeat, but only two weeks since we started to escape the yellow cloud. In that time, Morgana taught me what an atom is—one of the smallest measurements that make up the cosmos—and a few more scientific terms. It's strange for a fairy to know about them, but as a nature spirit, she thinks it's obvious that she would know them.

  Of course, she does not agree with their uses. She finds mechanical arcs raw, without beauty, and prefers the world as it is than we manipulate it to be. I suppose there is no way to change that opinion of an entity like her. Still, I believe that you have studied one or another scientific subject that interested you. I just need to know how, and more importantly, where.

  In the midst of the walk, giant mushrooms watch the fireflies fly in unison, walk like travelers and talk about autumn. They block the passage, going from one side of the forest to the other to cross. Sometimes their heads glow, and they take off their colored parts like a hat.

  “These are Ents.” Morgana points and catches my eye as the group crosses the road and blocks our passage. Some stop, then stoop to apologize, and then return, like large polite animals. Vegetables, in this case.

  “You have good manners!” Hoffstein says, smiling, because of course he is.

  “Plant beings with consciousness.” Morgana says. “The most common type is a tree, but may occur to be some other type of vegetation.”

  I thought they only existed in fairy tales, but I don't find them so unbelievable anymore. Sharpening my gaze, I can see tiny women with butterfly wings flying around them, next to the fireflies. Some are red, others are green.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “What are they?” I say.

  “Fairies.”

  “Fairies? Like you?”

  “No. Lesser. Weaker. Less conscious. These are newborns, but I'm not sure even one of them will make it to adulthood.”

  “Do they die?”

  “No. They just prefer not to grow, or don't know they can, or some mixture between the two. They will have time, of course, but perhaps they will remain. Or maybe they die from some senseless attack.”

  “You said it's hundreds of years old, right?”

  “And you said you wouldn't mention my age anymore.”

  “Sorry.” I say before she hits my head with a stick. “I'm just saying that if you had a childhood and spent a lot of time in it, then technically you wouldn't have as much time as an adult.”

  “It's true, but I didn't stay that long in this form. When I was born, I was already superior to these little ones, like a human child. I just grew up over the decades of neglect and suffering, not sticking to the normalcy of an ordinary fairy.”

  “Naturally.” Hoffstein says. “After all, you are-”

  “I'd rather reveal it myself, Hero.”

  Hoffstein raises an eyebrow. “Huh? I thought he knew.”

  “Knew what?” I frown. “I don't like it when you keep secrets from me.”

  “Everyone has their secrets. I will share mine in due time. Will you do the same?”

  “Don't start fighting.” Hoffstein interrupts. “She has her reasons. Let them settle peacefully afterwards.”

  The mushrooms finally pass. I wish I could fly over them, but I'm sure Hoffstein would stop me by telling me to enjoy the moment or something old like that. We continue our course along the road in conveniently placed in the middle of the forest, observing the annoying and insignificant wonders that I like to see so much.

  A squirrel practices martial arts on top of a tree, another shoots tiny magic rays at a sleeping eagle. They engage in combat with the savagery of a sloth and, when one of them is injured, vomits a rainbow.

  Impressively, I like this place. I thought that the orderly peace of the countryside would drive me mad, and that I would have to blow up one mountain or another to get my fill. Perhaps a method of punishment for my failure. However, seeing the fairy world's randomness brings out a smile I didn't know I had. I could live here if it wasn't for the cloud that keeps chasing us.

  But maybe it's for the best. What's the point of standing still in a world like this?

  “You seem strangely on her side.” I comment on Hoffstein.

  He inspires. “I know part of her story.”

  “And you shall not say it.” She says.

  “I understand your coldness, Fairy, and sympathize with your pain. I am not your enemy, although you do not see me as an ally.”

  “You know she wants to kill a lot of people, don't you?”

  Morgana stares at me.

  “Naturally.” He says. “Justice must be served as long as it does not involve the innocent and become revenge. Brutality is inevitable in her story. My opinion is…” Hoffstein inspires, as if thinking. “It's just something that happens.”

  Cold winds. As I walk, my heart seems to weigh a little. I glance at Morgana, who stares at me every time I do it, as if she's using her gaze to punish me.

  In my mind, I visualize her running through me with an ice sword. I have no doubt had that thought dozens of other times. There's still something I can't trust her with. A peaceful friendship—or rather, a mutual agreement-with a tiger does not make it less wild.

  Maybe Hoffstein doesn't understand what Morgana means. Maybe he understands, but he doesn't believe she'll be able to do it. Perhaps you still believe you can change it before it happens. From the bottom of my heart, I hope it's right.

  But since the matter cannot be concluded and the secrets will not be revealed, I push them to the back of my mind and change the subject.

  “So, fairies… Is there anything else you know about them?”

  Morgana looks away, and as predicted, does the same as me. “There are four types. The gnomes of the earth, the sprites of the air, the salamanders of the fire and the nymphs of the water. We are beings who embody the seasons and primal forces. Immortal by age, but we can be killed. Aura constitutes our body, we manipulate magic as second nature, and we never lie.”

  Technically.

  “Sprite… You said Aldwyn was a spriggan. What does that mean?”

  “It means it was a sprite that got corrupted and was taken over by madness and other forces… not usual. They're problematic. Strong. They turn all the virtue of a fairy into their greatest weapons of corruption.”

  “Sprite, huh? But he didn't seem to master the wind that well.”

  “The element is more related to its personality, meaning, and function than to its power. Sprites tend to be more elusive, even among fairies.”

  “Ah… Okay, that makes sense. I imagine you're a nymph, then?”

  “Yes. I'm the Lady of the lake, after all. But I'm not related to water, but to ice. To the cold.” She says as she runs her hand through the giant roses on her side of the road. “The element influences a part of the fairy's personality, but if each of them has an infinity of different and specific meanings, I don't think it matters.”

  “What happens in your case?”

  “I am me, and if it wasn't the way I am, I wouldn't be Morgana.”

  “Or Verchneb.”Hoffstein comments.

  Morgana stares at him out of the corner of her eye. “Oops.” He says. “What about the interesting things? Tell him what happens if you break an agreement with a fairy!”

  “It's true.” I say. “You told me not to break our agreement. We are connected, but nothing prevents me from not releasing you later.”

  “You die.”

  “… What?”

  Hoffstein spits out a laugh. “It's one of the possibilities.”

  “You didn't tell me that!” I say.

  “You didn't ask me when we made the deal at the time. At least, not that I remember. In any case, a terrible and absolute curse falls on the shoulders of all those who decide not to fulfill an agreement directly with the fairy. Death is one of the possibilities.”

  “And because fairies are masters at avoiding the truth, even though they technically don't lie, agreements always come out in favor of their interpretation.” Hoffstein says. “So no more deals for you, Sieghart, you're married now!”

  “What?!” I say as he laughs in my face. “Hey, defend yourself!” I turn to Morgana, but I widen my eye when I see her smiling.

  “Marriage, eh? Not a bad idea, is it?”

  Ah. Got it.

  “I will kill you both.”

  ***

  The day was long and unbearable. I think I'd rather be whipped on the back than hear Hoffstein laughing and Morgana whispering in my ear. We also helped a rabbit get out of a time loop, a chicken find out if it came before or after an egg, and something about a little girl named Alice in a country far away.

  Finally, though, we found a place to rest. The sun sets, and the monsters that once promised my death slowly return. But the moon shines in the sky and reflects its silver over the forest, then drives away those who were created to hate and cursed to stay forever in the shade. Those who don't hide wouldn't be a problem. They almost never are.

  Sitting in the camp we made in the middle of a clearing, I watch the fire roast the meat of the mammoth Hoffstein hunted. He seems to have an affinity for eating giant things. But there is a lake near here, and I would do anything to have some alone time today.

  “I'm going to take a shower.” I say as I go.

  “Don't go too far!” He says.

  I wave back as I head towards the lake and arrive at it in a few minutes. It reminds me of the Fairy Lady's Lake. The rocky soil is similar to that of a cave, and stone pillars spread around it. Some inscriptions that I can't read are embedded in them, notes from an ancient civilization.

  I take off my robe and leave my staff on the ground. I don't see anything strange, so I dip a toe in the water. A chill runs up my spine, even worse than the ones I get when Morgana touches me. Unbearably cold, everything in this dimension is exaggerated, including the temperature of the water—but it refuses to freeze.

  “…?”

  I frown and maximize my emission to detect mana in the surroundings. I feel animals, vegetables, and something that hides between the pillars. Something weak, but which I cannot confirm the intentions.

  “Who are you? Show yourself.”

  I see your silhouette at a glance. A girl a little older than me puts her face in plain sight while hiding the rest of her body behind a stone she uses as a shield. Her skin is blue. Not translucent like Morgana's, but flesh and blood.

  Slowly, step by step, she reveals herself. Delicate and with fine features, she is a little shorter than me. Her hair is a light, light shade of blonde that hits her shoulders. Two white stripes run from the base of his chin to his forehead and past his eyes, green as the fairy world's grass.

  Her features prove to me that she is not human. She holds a bitten apple and keeps it close to herself carefully, her mannerism is precious, careful, and curious at the same time.

  His robes are clean, a white robe covered with gold covers his body, and sandals protect his feet. A sense of familiarity comes to me, as if I had already seen these clothes somewhere. They seemed ancient—not in the sense of old, but of belonging to a place lost in time.

  Morgana taught me about it too. Long ago, after the fall of the races, probably made by the revolt of the first Rebel—now part of the Demiurge—the races separated. Some humans, lost in the the fairy world, met with beautiful maidens, fairies, who had children and settled together. These children, pristine as fairies but still made of flesh and blood, endowed with proficiency in magic and natural beauty, are called-

  “Elves.” I whisper to myself. “You… You're an elf, isn't she?”

  She nods, but says nothing. I take a step towards her, but she steps back a little.

  Ah. It's true.

  “Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. My name is Sieghart. I just came here to take a shower. Did I interrupt you with something?”

  “N-no!” She says while nodding her head. “A-actually, I'm glad to see you. I'm with a group of adventurers, and we're far, far from home. I, uh, sorry!” She lifts the sides of her dress and prostrates herself as one who presents herself properly.

  “I'm Nia.”