Chi-World, for the past three hundred years, has been enduring the silent crusade caused by the Generation Wars. This is also the reason why the lands have been divided into five regions that symbolise the five kinds of creatures residing in it. Tha...
"Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing." ― Rick Riordan
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Date: 03/15/1015 Place recorded: Castle Aether, Garen's Well, Kingdom of Fata
"Your Majesty, the Sextri have invaded our gates," says a plump woman with a set of green wings. Her head is slightly bowed, not making a direct eye-contact to the royalty sitting on her throne for fear that she'll not be able to step out of the hall alive.
The tension is thick, even the royal guards can feel it beneath their armours of metal plates and bronze. The once exquisite vases and lanterns now scatter broken on the carpeted floor the colour of the sun. Two dead faeries lay on the ground; eyes wide open, limbs tangled together, and their white clothes stained with their purple blood.
Queen Vanya, the ruler of the realm of Fata, is gripping her wooden staff tightly. The muted hall speaks volume, more to the tune of death. The chamber is full of people yet her attention is solely focused on the reticent man of Snowcourt, Collar Beaumont. It's not because she is in any way romantically involved with him but rather the thoughts that she saw inside his head, his past, and even his future. These matters cause mayhem to the woman for she has seen something unfathomable and outrageous. An end.
"My Queen," a voice speaks and the queen gets out of her stupor.
Lifting her head, she meets the familiar cerulean blues of the matriarch. A smile forming itself on her face, she bows ever so slightly and acknowledges the newcomer. "Mother. It's a pleasure to see you here."
"Indeed." Vanya's mother floats through the throne room towards where she's sitting.
The room is lit up with floating lanterns of varying colours and dust of gold and silver sparkle on thin air. The throne is made up of platinum while different gems are embellished on it. Bronze-plated leaves and flowers adorned the place together with magical plants and herbs. The hall is sparkling in pixie dust, making it like an ambrosia, an epitome of the elegant queen.
"To what do I owe you this pleasure?" Vanya asks calmly as she sits straight.
Her mother bows at her and looks disgustingly with a hint of pity at the bloody remnants of the faeries. With a frown, she gazes back to her daughter. "Is this necessary?" she says as she motions to the corpses. "The lands are in the verge of an upcoming war and here you are, killing our own. Need I remind you that-"
"Mother," Vanya utters threateningly. "If you're only here to judge my acts, I'm politely asking you to leave now."
Heaving a sigh, the older faerie leaves the premises. Vanya clutches her head in her hands as she breathes through her nose, a sure way to calm her nerves. She loves her mother dearly but there are times like this that their views regarding important matter clashes and being herself, she cannot accept any other perspective than her own.
