War of Talents | A TINKERBELL FANFICTION (2023 Rewrite)

Prologue: The Queen's Gambit

Two years ago...

Dusk fell softly as the sun dipped below the horizon, the last of the golden daylight breaking to nighttime shadows. Autumn lingered in the distance and love and laughter filled the heavens above Neverland as below, Pixie Hollow celebrated the arrival of the harvest blue moon. The last phase of summer had come to a close at last and fall was on the horizon. By all accounts, it was a time to celebrate all of the blessings the year had provided them.

But not everyone was celebrating this momentous occasion. 

As the fairies progressed through the waiting crowds to set Tinker Bell's scepter into place, two members of the proceedings lingered atop the Pixie dust tree; the knowledge they possessed, once their greatest triumph, now turned to their deepest regret.

Queen Clarion watched, forlorn, as fairies twirled and leaped to the strum of the music-talents gathered below. The moon cast a golden glow amid the mushroom ring, illuminating the dust coating her subjects' wings, showering the clearing with a downpour of amber light. Clarion's eyes followed their movements, her expression grim and devoid of her normal warmth and cheer. She held a tattered remnant of paper in her hands but quickly crumpled it as a second pair of wings--larger than a fairy's--signaled the arrival of the only fairy who understand what was worrying her. 

"The time has come," Lord Milori spoke grimly from the back of his owl, being sure to hover far enough out of view of any stray ceremony-goer who might fancy a glance skyward. "The third century solstice. The harvest selection is upon us once again."

Selection was not exactly the word the Queen would have used. There was no competition, no reward for the best of the best. No, this was a tangled web; a twisted willow of deceit and denial that was finally about to run its course--a course that she was not sure she...or the Hollow...was prepared to face. 

She did not acknowledge the head of the winter fairies, for he should not have dared to come so far into the warm kingdom in the first place. Instead, her focus drifted from the gathering masses to the lingering social group hovering toward the outskirts of the celebration while they waited for their friend to place the scepter and reign in Autumn--entirely unbeknownst to the imminent peril that would be drawn in with it.

"Have you told them?"

Clarion drew her attention from the cluster of friends, but she refused to face Milori to answer his question. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the Pixie dust tree as it shone with glorious golden light. It was beautiful.  It was hard to believe that such a world of peace and beauty could be on such a reckless spiral toward war, that danger could be lurking around each bend. It just didn't feel right.

And she was the Queen. It was supposed to be her job to protect them.

So why then did that power have to fall to another? And why now; when the Hollow was the most vulnerable? It was all too much, too soon, and she didn't like it one bit.

"You haven't," Milori translated, exhaling and egging the owl forward so he could hover beside her. "Clarion," he pleaded. "You know what this all means. His replacement is somewhere in the Hollow. You were there for his arrival, you know what needs to happen now. Please, he's one of yours. You have to tell him--tell everyone--the truth before it's too l--"

"Tell them what, Milori?" Clarion demanded, her tone breaking as she whirled to face him, and her wings flashing a dangerous shade of gold. Fear. "That everything they've ever known has been a lie? That Pixie Hollow is about to be destroyed? How do you suggest I do that exactly? Please, tell me. I don't want another fairy like him, Milori. The Hollow can't survive another."