In the clouds that float above Eutopos, there stands a castle of rose quartz, amethyst and Moonstone, and in said castle, once lived a little girl named Skye. Skye had spent all eight, soon to be nine, of her Solar Cycles up in the celestial terrain, just below the heavens. All of her kind preferred the soft Airy Faerie Clouds to the hard Earthy Elven Forest floor below—because little Skye was not an elf, but a faerie.
Skye was very young, and there was still much for her to learn. But one thing she knew for certain was that independence was very important. Her parents and their servants had drilled this into her head time and time again. And today’s history lesson was no exception…
“Now, when the settlers came, why were the fae at the greatest advantage of all the Eutopian natives?” Professor Flappenbottom, an elder faerie with silver hair and dusty-blue wings, quizzed her.
“Because,” Skye answered, “our home is up in the sky, not on the ground.”
“But what about the merfolk? They, too, do not live on land!” Professor Flappenbottom argued in his merry way. (He loved trick questions more than anything—or so it seemed to Skye.)
“True,” Skye agreed. “But the merfolk did not suffer nearly as much as the elves. Like us faeries, they were protected by their difficult-to-navigate terrain.”
“Ah, yes! The elves suffered most of all the Eutopian natives in what the Earthlings call ‘the Quest for New-Camelot’…” Professor Flappenbottom said these last few words with utter contempt. “But let us not forget the Greenlandian king and queen’s recent capture of Princess Artemis! The youngest Merfolkian princess is now a figurehead on the bow of Arianna, the sailboat of the Greens.
“The purple-tailed mermaid is completely conscious but frozen. The Earthlings call it a ‘preserving spell’, as it renders the subject unneeding of food or water for their survival. Actually, it renders them immortal. Immortal, but paralysed—a fate worse than death!
“It seems as though that’s all these Earthlings are capable of: delivering fates worse than death! Why, they even do it to their own kind, what with how they send rebel witches and warlocks to their cursed Suicide Island!”
Skye let Professor Flappenbottom rant. As he did, the elder faerie whizzed through the lesson chamber, flitting around like the dragonflies that hovered above the Greenlandian River.
Or at least Skye imagined that his movements were like those of a Greenlandian River dragonfly. She had only ever seen pictures of this massive, gushing river—never had she actually ventured down to the grounds of Eutopos.
“Well?” Professor Flappenbottom said, bringing both his rant and his whizzing to a halt. He was now hovering in midair and staring at Skye with intense icy blue eyes.
Skye gave her head a quick shake. “Uh, my apologies, Professor Flappenbottom. Could you repeat your question?”
Professor Flappenbottom adjusted the pointy hood of his periwinkle tunic, and he heaved a testy sigh. “Seeing as the Earthlings are capable of capturing mermaids, then why haven’t they captured a faerie? Sure, much like the merfolk, our terrain isn’t of any use to them. ‘Because we live up in the clouds’—that is the textbook answer, yes.
“But there is another reason they haven’t come for us the way they have, first with the elves, and now with Princess Artemis. If anything, the merfolkian are more protected by their terrain, seeing as the depths of the West Coast Sea are trickier for an Earthling to traverse than the skies are. Witches and warlocks can’t very easily breathe underwater, but they can fly—even if they lack wings and have to exploit a magical creature such as a unicorn, or use something tacky like a broomstick…
“So, why don’t the settlers hurt us? What’s stopping them?”
Before Skye had the chance to answer him, in flew her pale-pink-winged maid, Miss Ellie. “Professor Flappenbottom,” Miss Ellie said with a curtsy, after adjusting her poofy pink aproned dress and her white lacy mob cap. “It’s time for the princess’s magic lesson.”
Skye was not merely a faerie, but daughter of King Zephyr and Queen Minerva, the Faerie princess. As Skye followed Miss Ellie through the corridors, flapping her own wings of rose quartz pink, amethyst purple and Moonstone blue, she ruminated on Professor Flappenbottom’s question. She knew the answer, and in fact, said answer could be seen demonstrated through the windows of the Faerie Castle…
There hovered the faeries; they were meeting in mass. Each of them being a unique shade, when the fae gathered together like this, they created a beautiful prismatic display.
Skye watched as each and every faerie spun deosil and shrank down to the size of a butterfly, leaving their signature colourful sparkles in their wake—faerie dust.
Once they had all transformed into their itsy bitsy spritely statures, the faeries then disappeared below the clouds. They were venturing down to the grounds of Eutopos, for their faerie duties.
At least once a day, the fae shrunk down and traversed Eutopos, and as they moved through the world, they left a trail of faerie dust behind them. This was why the other Eutopian natives had magical abilities at all—the faeries were their gateway to the Cosmos.
And this was why the Earthlings hadn’t come for the fae, as they too benefited from this natural law. Of course, it wasn’t as though the fae could make a mundane magical. The faeries merely brought out what magic was already there and made it stronger. But Skye knew—because it had been lectured to her time and time again—that the settlers were so much more magical here on Eutopos than they had been back on planet Earth.
According to Professor Flappenbottom, back on their home planet, the Earthling’s magic had been more uncertain and unpredictable. Only the witches and warlocks who had put thousands of hours into their practice could rely on the Craft—Earthlings like High Priestess Zelena Noir and Emperor Sola Imperial.
But once they had made the great pilgrimage from Planet Earth to Planet Eutopos, not only were the Earthlings free to practise magic openly, but they were also assisted by the fae. This gateway to the heavens had allowed even the least experienced witches and warlocks to wield spells with ease.
‘Mages’, many of them now titled themselves—ever since Emperor Sola had demanded that everyone who was not who he deemed to be ‘upperclass’ drain their powers into his Magical Moat.
Of course, he now had his own source of magic beyond the fae. But without the fae, would his enchanted pond still work? Or had he raped the magic of Prevaedo, the same way he had raped the land of Eutopos? Was Emperor Sola now a demigod? Or was he just a regular folkian with a great deal of privilege? These were questions that scholars like Professor Flappenbottom were still trying to answer.
Regardless, the fae had to go on performing their faerie duties—this was a magical contract they had with the Cosmos.
Skye of course, being a princess, did not have to do such work. Instead, she was to attend lesson after lesson after lesson. It was vital for their independence, for their sovereignty, that she was raised as a proper Faerie princess should be.
Skye had no brothers or sisters, and despite how the settlers wanted to run their empire, Eutopos was in fact a matriarchy. Therefore, one day, Skye would marry a noble faerie, and the two of them would rule the Faerie Kingdom together. That wouldn’t be for many Suns, however, as little Skye was only a child.
Overall, Skye was happy, although sometimes she did wonder if there was something lacking. With all this ‘independence’, were they missing the point? Skye didn’t dare speak these thoughts, for she knew they would not be taken well, by any of the fae.
But what did the other faeries know of the crippling loneliness she so often felt? They all got to transfigure into their tiny, spritely forms and make their way down from the clouds to explore Eutopos. None of the faeries preferred the ground below to their cloud home, but they got to see some incredible sights.
Upon returning, the fae would spin widdershins to return to their full-sized forms, and then gossip about everything that they had seen throughout their day’s work: elves, barely noticeable what with how they blended into their Elven Forest, only spotted thanks to their copper hair; gnomes returning to their houses of Amanita muscaria, their sacks full of treasure; Springtime flowers; the Winter’s first snowfall.
Skye had never seen such sights; she had only heard of them. For the Faerie princess, it was always lessons, lessons, lessons…
Professor Spellsoot was waiting for Skye, hovering in the lesson chamber with her midnight indigo wings. She wore a long, oversized gown with large bell sleeves. Her waist-length silver hair hung from its pointy hood. The gown mimicked the Prevaedo galaxy, as it was purple, pink and blue, all at once. Embroidered into the garment with threads of both silver and gold were the Constellations, and of course, the Sun and the Moon.
“Good afternoon, Princess Skye,” Professor Spellsoot greeted the princess.
“Good afternoon, Professor Spellsoot,” Skye greeted her in return.
“Today we are going to work on an invisibility glamour.”
Skye’s pointy faerie ears perked up. She had wanted to learn this for many Moons. Promptly, she found her place in the centre of the lesson chamber.
“Now, invisibility may be a ‘glamour’, but more so it is Lunar Magic,” Professor Spellsoot lectured. “Casting such a glamour requires a connection with the Moon. In fact, its technical name is the ‘New Moon Spell’, as you are essentially mimicking the Goddess during the time in which the Sun does not cast any light upon Her and She is invisible.
“Some folk do refer to the spell as the ‘Dark Moon Spell’, but, technically speaking, ‘New Moon’ is more accurate—seeing as the Dark Moon is the very final Eventide of the Waning Crescent Moon, and therefore, during the Dark Moon, the tiniest silver sliver remains visible.
“Whereas the night after—the night of the New Moon—it seems as though there is no Moon at all. Of course, as you well know, this is but an illusion; Mother Earth is still with us, just as She always is. But during this time, She is directly between Father Sun and our home planet, Eutopos, so the Father’s light cannot reach the side that faces us, and She becomes invisible.”
Skye nodded intently, taking Professor Spellsoot’s lecture in. This spell was going to be trickier than the others she knew—tricky, but not impossible.
Being a faerie, a creature of Air, Skye excelled in Air magic—all faeries did. But faeries were not merely creatures of Air; they were also the race of Eutopos that was closest to the Cosmos. In fact, many considered the faeries to be ‘Earth angels’. Skye was the future Faerie queen, so it was therefore expected that she become skilled at not merely Air Magic, but Metaphysical Magic in all forms: Solar Magic, Lunar Magic, and Celestial Magic.
“First things first,” Professor Spellsoot continued, “I implore you to meditate with the Moon and Her phases. This will align you with Her Lunar Cycle, and it will make all the Lunar Magic you perform so much easier. You ought to do the same for the Sun and the Stars too, of course, as it will help you with Solar and Celestial Magic.”
Skye gave a nod and tried to hide her annoyance. She had been meditating ever since she was old enough to hover. This was the very first thing her parents had had her learn, as the practice was essential for mastering the Element of Air.
“When you are aligned with the Lunar Cycle, it will be so much easier to tap into Her many phases, including the New Moon, which will allow you to become invisible, just as She is during said phase.”
“Alright,” Skye agreed. Professor Spellsoot spoke the truth. Meditation had given her a certain mastery over her mind: she could control her thoughts and push away her loneliness. This was essential for wielding Air. As much as she did not want to sit on a cushion and focus on nothing but the Mother Moon, it would likely prove beneficial.
“For now,” Professor Spellsoot continued, “we shall attempt the spell. So what I’d like you to do is gently tilt your wand so that it is pointed at yourself.” Professor Spellsoot demonstrated the motion with her own wand, which, of course, was made of amethyst to match her deep indigo wings. The top of the wand had been crowned with an amethyst Star. “Then close your eyes and, in your mind’s eye, picture the New Moon. Hard to do, I know, for when She is new, what can you really see? But that is precisely the point, Princess!”
Skye did as Professor Spellsoot instructed. She closed her eyes and angled her own wand—which, to match her wings and her hair, was made of rose quartz, adorned with Moonstone, and had been crowned with a butterfly of amethyst—towards her body. She then pictured the New Moon—with all her will she pictured it!
When she opened her eyes, however, nothing had happened. She was still very much visible.
Before Professor Spellsoot told her to, she was already trying again. And again. And again.
But each attempt was fruitless.
“Now, don’t get discouraged, Princess,” Professor Spellsoot assured her. “This is tricky magic, and you are unlikely to get it right away. The important thing is that we keep trying!”
And so they did, attempting the spell over and over again for the rest of the afternoon. Skye yielded no results. That Eventide, as she began eating her hotcakes slathered in butter and drenched in maple syrup—a classic faerie dinner, particularly around Candlemas—she stewed about this.
There was a reason the New Moon Spell meant so much to the Faerie princess.
She decided to try her luck anyway…
When her parents had tucked in, Skye broached the subject: “Mother and Father, my ninth name day is nigh.” She looked into her father’s yellow eyes. Everything about him—his hair, his wings, his robes—was a warm yellow, like the Sunset. “You’ve spoken of the possibility of me flying down to the ground and exploring Eutopos’s Earth.”
Her father answered, “Yes, well, that is if you master the New Moon Spell, which, from what Professor Spellsoot tells us, it sounds like you haven’t yet.”
Skye finished chewing her bite of hotcake. When her chewing came to a halt, she did not slice off another forkful. She merely stared at her cakes.
King Zephyr sighed. “It’s not that I want to keep the wonderful world of Eutopos from you—I really don’t. But without the New Moon Spell, your safety won’t be assured. There are many reasons for Metaphysical Magic being part of the regal curriculum, but one of them is your protection. If I’m going to show you the Earthy plane below, I want to do it safely.”
Of course Queen Minerva said, “I’m not risking the life of my only daughter.”
Her father concluded, “Once you’ve got the New Moon Spell under your wings, then we can talk about you venturing down to the world below.”
Skye reluctantly returned to her hotcakes and continued eating. Never before had she struggled with magic! Of course, this was her first foray into magic that wasn’t Air Magic. But Air Magic had always been so easy… And yet, all through Professor Spellsoot’s lesson, she had felt like a mundane.
Skye paused her chewing to wonder, Is this how Princess Aurora Green feels? Word had got around Eutopos that the Greenlandian princess hadn’t yet produced any magic. Princess Aurora was now known as ‘the Mundane Princess’. Skye suddenly regretted having once laughed at this; What if I am cursed with the same fate?!
*
Despite her fear, Skye heeded the advice of Professor Spellsoot and meditated with the Moon, but her name day had long passed before she reaped any reward. In fact, for the rest of the Snow Moon and for the entirety of the Worm Moon, her efforts appeared useless. Candlemas had come and gone, and they were in the season of Ostara. The Sun had been born anew: it was now VI-SASR, six Suns after the Solar Revolution.
Despite this lack of progress, however, every afternoon, Professor Spellsoot had Skye attempt the spell. And every eventide, the Faerie princess would hover cross-legged in her tower window, allowing the Moonlight (or the hush of its absence on the night of the New Worm Moon) to wash over her as she quieted her mind.
Each and every day, Skye felt like Princess Aurora—like a mundane princess. And yet she had to keep trying. It was her duty to her kingdom, yes. But perhaps even more so, she was plagued with wanderlust.
Come the day of the New Crow Moon, something finally happened:
“Alright, try again, Princess,” Professor Spellsoot said for the umpteenth time.
And Skye did—pointing her wand towards herself, closing her eyes, and envisioning the New Moon. She had done this very action countless times, and nothing had ever happened. She expected to still be there when she opened her eyes. This time, however…
“My arm! My arm’s gone!” she cried out to Professor Spellsoot—and indeed her arm no longer appeared to be there. Her wand looked as though it was floating in midair.
So she wasn’t ‘the Mundane Faerie’ after all!
“Well done, Princess! Well done!” Professor Spellsoot cheered her.
The excitement and the pride caused Skye to lose her focus, and her arm reappeared as quickly as it had disappeared.
“Of course, it’s going to take more practice to master the spell,” Professor Spellsoot explained. “But you made great progress today, Princess.”
Bizarrely, it was on the day of the Full Crow Moon that Skye got the New Moon spell down. She had been practising, practising, practising—and meditating, meditating, meditating. Sometimes she managed to turn a body part invisible, usually an arm or a leg. Other times she backslid and nothing happened at all. But eventually…
“I’m—I’m invisible?!” Skye cried, not fully believing it—even though, upon looking down, she only saw the lesson chamber floor.
“Masterful work, Princess!” Professor Spellsoot congratulated her.
It was surreal… being there, but not appearing to be there. It was no wonder the Cosmos demanded that this be such a tricky spell to perform: Skye could get away with damn near anything right now!
She flew around to the other side of Professor Spellsoot and tugged on the skirt of her celestial gown.
Professor Spellsoot shrieked, “Young lady! Well, I never!”
Skye flew deosil around the room, invisible the entire way.
Professor Spellsoot gathered herself and, with her brow furrowed, she held her wand up in the air and drew large widdershins circles with it. At once, Skye’s body reappeared.
“Curses of the Underworld!” Skye spat, upon seeing her faerie figure.
“Princess!” Professor Spellsoot scolded her. “This spell is not to be used for such petty, foolish hijinks! Invisibility is incredibly useful, yes—but it must be taken seriously. We don’t go making ourselves invisible to prank one another!”
This was as it always had been. For all nine of her Suns, the adults in her life had lectured her about the importance of taking things ‘seriously’. But Skye was just a little girl—a little girl who longed to frolic and play.
Still, Professor Spellsoot was pleased with the Faerie Princess. After her lecture, she rewarded Skye with a biscuit—lavender shortbread adorned with a sweet lemon glaze—and dismissed her from lessons early.
Skye flew through the rose quartz corridors, but paused when she reached the bridge of the Faerie Castle. There she hovered in midair and gazed out at the world of cloud. She allowed pride to fill her as she ate her lavender-lemon shortbread biscuit. It was both sweet and tart, just as a lavender-lemon shortbread biscuit should be.
All too soon, her pride vanished, and was replaced with a deep sense of shame. For the faerie mass, still in their elfin, spritely forms, had returned from a day’s work.
I shouldn’t be envious of them, Skye told herself, fighting the horribly familiar feelings as she watched them spin widdershins. If anything, they should be jealous of me. For one day, I will be queen of the Fae, and they will still be commoners, forced to go about this daily ritual.
Suddenly a different feeling overtook her: not envy, but fear.
Dread, really.
At least I won’t be queen for a very, very long time, she reminded herself.
Skye often used these words for comfort. And perhaps, in several Suns’ time, the little princess would grow to actually want the Faerie Throne.
*
The next few Moons, Skye continued to learn Lunar Magic. Professor Spellsoot had her move on from the New Moon Spell and start working on Mind Control.
“Isn’t that Water Magic?” Skye argued Professor Spellsoot. She was a faerie, not a siren.
“Ah, young Skye, you have a sharp mind! Which, indeed, will help you excel in this magic. Yes, Mind Control is Water Magic. However, what does the Mother Moon control?”
It only took Skye a few seconds to figure it out; “Our tides!” No, she hadn’t actually visited the coast and seen the ebb and flow of the merfolkian water. But Professor Flappenbottom had got her to read about the sea and its tides, many Suns ago.
“Yes! So while Mind Control does require you to alchemise the Water in other folkians—and by this I mean it requires you to manipulate their emotions—remember that the Moon rules Water. This is why many scholars classify Mind Control as Lunar Magic.
“Myself, I do. In my not so humble opinion, Mind Control is far too advanced to be considered Water Magic. Only those who are taking care to learn Metaphysical Magic broadly, and properly, should attempt it.”
“Are we done with the New Moon Spell then, Professor?” Skye asked, her pointy faerie ears perking up. She wasn’t so much eager to move onto Mind Control, as much as she was eager to have ‘mastered’ the New Moon Spell.
Professor Spellsoot nodded. “You are now casting the New Moon Spell with ease. I trust that, should you need to vanish, you could.”
King Zephyr and Queen Minerva, however, seemed to disagree. When Skye told her parents that Professor Spellsoot had had her move on from the New Moon Spell, they still refused to let her venture down to the world below.
“But I can now turn myself invisible! Look!” And easily, seamlessly, Skye disappeared from view.
King Zephyr heaved a great sigh. “It’s not that you haven’t done your part, my child. Indeed, you have. And at a better time, we will take you down to the world below. But right now things are, well, uneasy.”
His eyes, like Sunflowers swaying in the wind, shifted from side to side, as though he was struggling to find his words. “There’s a storm brewing down there, one I think we ought to wait out…
“My apologies, my child.” And he sounded so genuine in his sorrow that Skye could not bring herself to argue him.
Each and every morning, Professor Flappenbottom had been rambling about this same unrest. But no one would actually tell her what was going on. Even the common faeries had been ordered not to speak of whatever it was, making Skye’s eavesdropping all for naught.
The day before Midsummer—the time during which the fae’s magic is the most potent and powerful—something happened.
Skye rose from her bed, expecting to go about another day of lessons, but quickly she realised that it wasn’t Miss Ellie who had woken her.
It was the sound of screaming—high pitched faerie screaming.
At once, Skye flew towards her large stained glass window. Through the panes of yellow Stars, she saw all the other faeries whizzing around in panic. The sprites were darting from this place to that, screaming at the faeries who were not yet aware.
But aware of what exactly?
Soon Skye herself became aware. Two folkians—two folkians who were not faeries—were up in the clouds. A carriage sat atop the clouds. Two unicorns stood just in front of it; they must have flown the carriage all the way up into the sky. Only the royal families had carriages pulled by unicorns. The nobles rode those tacky broomsticks. But it couldn’t be them, could it?
Skye squinted, trying to get a better look. The golden-blonde hair was unmistakeable. Indeed, it was them: King James and Queen Audrey Green. But whatever were they doing up here in the sky?
It was then that Skye noticed that they had two faeries in a magical bind—a reverse hogtie. And not just any two faeries…
“Mother?! Father?!” she cried in a panic, trumping that of the other faeries.
The Faerie princess did not even bother to change out of her sky-blue nightgown. Instead, moving quickly as a hummingbird, she whizzed out of her chamber, through the corridors, and out of the castle.
“Mother! Father!” Skye called to her parents upon reaching the forecourt.
“Skye!” Queen Minerva cried, her own panic only growing at the sight of her daughter. “Go back inside this instant! Hurry!”
Indeed, the other faeries had all scattered. “No, I won’t leave you!”
“Want to join them?” the Greenlandian Queen asked in a haughty, high-pitched voice.
“Where are you taking them?” Skye demanded to know.
“Skye,” her father spoke in his stern tone, “you must go back inside right now.”
“Please!” her mother begged.
But little Skye was not about to abandon her parents to whatever fate the Greens had planned for them. As much as Skye didn’t love the path her parents had carved out for her, as much as she didn’t want to be queen, she loved them. She loved them dearly.
Skye put on a brave face; “Are you taking them to your castle’s dungeon?”
Both King James and Queen Audrey erupted in arrogant laughter.
Finally, King James answered, “Oh no, little Princess. Let me assure you: these two faeries will most certainly not spend their days rotting away in a dungeon. They are far too useful…”
Fear coursed throughout Skye’s entire body. “What are you going to do with my parents?!” she shrieked, fighting tears.
“Surely your faerie eyes can see the future,” Queen Audrey said with a horrible smirk.
And then, with the slightest gesture of her golden staff, the Greenlandian queen moved the bound Faerie king and queen through the air, over the clouds, and into the unicorn-drawn carriage.
“Say goodbye to your parents, sweetie.”
Before Skye managed to say another word, Queen Audrey slammed the carriage door shut.
Skye had always disliked the Greens—of course she had, being a Eutopian native. But now she absolutely hated them.
Their crime was shocking, to say the least. Yes, they had already fished Princess Artemis. However, the other upperclassmen would approve of and even celebrate that act. But to come for the Faerie king and queen… what would the other upperclassmen think of this? What would Emperor Sola think of this? The fae provided the Earthlings access to the Cosmos, which they needed to practise magic—and that hardly seemed like something to be trifled with.
Oh, why didn’t they take me just as they took Princess Artemis? Skye then thought. Surely her parents would face a similar fate—if Skye didn’t do something about it, that was.
But what could she do? She was only a little faerie. Yes, the faeries were powerful, but they were only so powerful collectively. Whereas the Greenlandian king and queen, thanks to Emperor Sola’s Magical Moat, possessed powers most folkians could only dream of.
For a few moments, Skye hovered there, paralysed in thought. Eventually, she gave her head a shake and did what the other faeries did on the daily: she transformed into her spritely version, and then soared through the air, downward below the clouds, towards the Elven Forest. (She didn’t think of it as the ‘Greenlandian Forest’, nor did she think of it as the ‘Winter Woods’. To her, it was and always would be the Elven Forest.)
Down, down, down, Skye zoomed, flying faster than she had ever flown before. The evergreens that the Elven Forest was known for grew larger and larger. Both the West Coast Mountains and the Greenlandian Mountains were no longer leagues below her, but parallel to her; they sandwiched her in, giving her a horrible claustrophobic feeling. How do the elves live like this? she thought.
She was just above the evergreens now, and she somehow willed herself to zoom even faster, propelling herself forward, toward the ugly, muddy green castle in the distance. Skye felt the Faerie Castle was much more charming.
Eventually she reached the tallest tower. Unsure of where King James and Queen Audrey had taken her parents, Skye was following her faerie intuition—and it told her that this tall, tall tower was a good place to look.
Skye hovered below the large balcony, staying hidden, but keeping her pointy faerie ears out for any voices. She could hear folk talking, but from under the balcony, it was difficult to make out who the speaker was, much less what they were saying.
It was only then that she remembered…
The Faerie princess closed her eyes and envisioned the New Moon—or rather, she envisioned a night sky full of Stars, but void of the Mother. And sure enough, when she opened her eyes once more, the dirty green castle wall was void of her too.
Then she zoomed inside the chamber, the voices of King James and Queen Audrey growing louder and louder. What was worse was how she could hear her parents begging for their lives.
“Please, King James and Queen Audrey!” her father said, trying to sound brave and commanding, but failing. “This is hardly necessary! Whatever it is you want from us, we’ll give it to you. Just don’t—”
“Silence, faerie!” Queen Audrey snapped, pointing her staff at him and conjuring a witch’s bridle, which secured itself around King Zephyr.
While Skye’s father moaned through the gag, her mother pleaded, “Oh, please! Please don’t do this, your highness.”
It was strange to hear her mother, queen of the Fae, submit to the queen of the Greenlands.
“This is the only way,” Queen Audrey assured him, “and you very well know that.” But it sounded as though the Greenlandian queen was trying to convince herself just as much as she was the Faerie king and queen.
King James, on the other hand, was ready.
For what, little Skye didn’t want to know.
It was odd, though. He wasn’t standing there ready with his staff. He was standing there ready with his bare hands.
Oh, whatever were they about to do?
King James looked at Audrey. The Greenlandian queen pursed her lips and gave a little nod.
Then the Greens closed in on her parents, who lay helpless in the reverse hogtie.
It suddenly dawned on Skye: in this reverse hogtie, what remained exposed were their wings.
It happened so quickly—too quickly for little Skye to put a stop to it.
Sure, she could have done what she once did to Professor Spellsoot, upon finally magicking herself invisible. She could have tugged on the tunic of King James and pulled on the skirt of Queen Audrey. But what would that have accomplished? All it would have done was let the Greenlandian king and queen know that the Faerie princess was there, watching them—and then certainly little Skye would suffer the same fate. If only she had mastered Mind Control!
But then again, would Mind Control be of any use on the Greenlandian king and queen? For certainly her own parents had mastered such magic, being the Faerie king and queen, and yet here they were in the Greens’ clutches, utterly defenceless… thanks to Emperor Sola’s Magical Moat, no doubt…
Skye watched, horror-struck and heartbroken, as King James and Queen Audrey ripped off King Zephyr’s and Queen Minerva’s wings. The wings came off easily, like the petals of a flower.
Her parents morphed from their beautiful colours—Sunflower yellow and icy blue—into a sickly shade of grey. In less than a minute, they were no longer faeries, but corpses.
Holding the wings in his hands, King James gave a triumphant cackle and cried, “Yes! Surely these will unlock Aurora’s powers!”
Queen Audrey’s face was tight and her eyes held a hollow look. “Aurora must remain ignorant, of course. She’d never agree to it knowingly.”
“Yes, yes! Of course, of course!” King James chimed merrily, as though they hadn’t just committed such a vile act. “We’ll grind them up ourselves with a mortar and pestle—such dull work, I know, hardly fit for a king and a queen—but our noble workers cannot know what we’ve done.
“Once we’ve ground these wings into a powder, we will then have one of our scullery maids slip it into her morning tea—a dash a day until Aurora has consumed all the faerie dust!”
Queen Audrey’s face tightened further. She gave a nod.
“If this doesn’t work, Audrey,” King James said, solemn now, “then I don’t know what will.”
Little Skye, still invisible, sat on the Greens’ balcony for a long time before returning home to her castle in the clouds. Way down on the ground below, playing by the castle moat, was the Mundane Princess herself. With her keen faerie vision, Skye could see the girl clearly. She had hair as golden blonde as her mother, and she was ripping the petals off of roses and scattering them into the moat.
Skye glared at her. She now hated Princess Aurora! No, the girl hadn’t been the one to do the horrible thing, but it was her lack of magical prowess that had sent her parents up into the Faerie clouds.
Skye then vowed, should the wretched Aurora Green ever set foot in the clouds herself, she would be severely punished. As the Faerie queen, it would be Skye’s duty to protect her people.
Not ‘would be’—it was her duty.
It took Skye a long time to return home, for she knew everything was going to change. The Faerie king and queen had been murdered. No longer protected by the service they provided, the fae would crave a good, strong ruler—and was little Skye capable of that?
How could she protect them from the nasty Greens, she wondered as she flew away from the Earthy plane below, back up to the Airy clouds. She couldn’t lead the fae away from Eutopos, to another planet. The dragons had done that—or so told the tales and songs. But as faeries, they were under contract with the Cosmos, to provide Eutopos with magic, with its connection to God and Goddess. If the fae left, they would not only be betraying the Cosmos, but abandoning everyone else: the elves, the gnomes, the merfolkians, and the like.
What Skye was better off doing, as foolish as it felt, was praying for some kind of revolution. Surely, the Cosmos would want to correct the fate of Eutopos, wouldn’t They?
Skye was only a few feet below the Faerie clouds, when she, for the first time in her life, heard the voice, the voice that had occasionally conversed with her parents:
Independence is important, Princess Skye—this has been lectured to you time and time again. But what’s even more important, particularly in times of trouble, is this: alliance with others.
And then, just as soon as the voice had spoken, it was gone. Skye called out to Them—“Hello? Hello?!”—but it was many Moons before They spoke to Skye again.
When Skye rose up above and onto the clouds, she was met with another surprise: wandering wonderingly through the world of white was an elf—and not a redheaded, freckle-laden elf, not a native elf—but a green-haired, green-skinned elf, an Earthling elf.
Still devastated from her parents’ demise, and now angry that yet another Earthling was encroaching upon the Faerie territory, Skye raised her wand to shoot the high-elf off of the clouds and send her to her death.
But then the words of the Cosmos echoed in her mind: ‘alliance with others’.
Yes, this high-elf was an Earthling, but was it really worth sending her to her demise? Perhaps it was better to ask why—and how—she had journeyed all the way up here.
High-elves may be Earthlings, but, as Professor Flappenbottom had lectured to Skye, the empire treated them like natives. In certain kingdoms, such as the Heartlands and, of course, the capital, they were enslaved.
Heeding the wisdom of the Cosmos, Skye wondered, Could this high-elf be an ally?
And there was something strangely familiar about her too…
Prudently, but assertively, Skye approached the elf.
Upon emerging through the mist, the elf’s eyes widened. “By the divine!” she gasped, although it came out as more of a whisper. “It’s a—a faerie.”
“Not just any faerie,” Skye corrected, “the Faerie queen.”
Author’s note: Faerie Dust tells the backstory of Queen Skye, a character introduced in the third and final instalment of IV: Aurora and Luna, iii: The Near Impossible Quest.
Also, for a peek into my creative process, check out this vlog I filmed at the time of writing Faerie Dust…