Arcana || Book I: Wolf in The Fable Trilogy

VII. Of Fey and Unseelie

Qionne would have resorted to riding Galahad back to Elfeinne. But the Council of Elders was not aware that he had strayed from his supposedly diplomatic mission, and the light from an airborne phoenix wasn't hard to miss even by a mile.

Apart from that, his female companion was ridiculously afraid of heights.

The night was cloudy, with barely the moon or a single star in sight. Thankfully, the energy within the woods' enchanted trees stored daylight that made its trunks and leaves glow in the dark. The woods were the pride and glory of the kingdom of Torin, and its gleaming fauna did them good in the absence of torchlight.

There was something rather odd about the woods that night though. Throughout the many times Qionne walked through these forests, he often saw fey singing and dancing beneath the canopies. Tonight, there was no sound save the hush of the breeze and the hum of crickets teasing their ears as they passed by. Not even one hoot of an owl nor one song of a nightingale rang from the branches above them. It was too quiet.

Qionne reached for his bow... only to find that it was no longer with him. He cursed, realizing that he must have lost it when he looted the Den. He groped for the sword on his belt instead. He hoped that he wouldn't have to use the saber though, for its power was yet unknown.

"Be on the lookout for Nocturns," he warned, his fingers coiling against the sword handle one by one. "They're just as worse as the Unseelie especially on this time of night."

"Nocturns?" Almira asked. "Unseelie?"

"You've never—oh never mind, I forgot you're not from around here," he sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Nocturns basically look like ordinary animals. But they're actually spirits that like to mess with those crazy enough to wander at night in these woods."

He stopped and blocked Almira's path with an arm, cocking his head to the side. He gestured to the ground and found a twig aglow with magia, flickering like a dying firefly.

"The Unseelie are one of the fey folk," he continued, cupping his hand beneath one of the floating lights. "They can take on any appearance... they can even look like us. And they just like making people miserable on the way." 

He bent down and picked up the small wood, examining it with his cobalt eyes.

"Someone else was here."

Qionne raised his gaze warily to the sky above as they passed through another clearing. The songs of crickets died down, until the only sound left was the subtle tinkling language of the soilse. He tightened his hold on the sword's hilt as he breathed in the thinning air.

Even the soilse feels something is wrong, he thought.

"The lights are dying," Almira murmured, clutching the cloak tighter around herself.

"Their light fades when there's danger," Qionne said. "Get behind me."

Even before Almira moved, Qionne gently pulled her by her arm and placed himself between her and the clearing. He whistled three low notes, the Brisingamen on his chest faintly glowing yellow. Cool wind brushed his skin, adding to the tense shiver he tried to withhold for the duration of the night.