The fairy who Dances with Shadows

Dragons Oath

Queen Ellaria’s composure was on the verge of collapse. A child—an innocent—had been harmed, and the implications weighed heavily on her heart. Vermior, though composed in posture, had venom in his eyes. The fae guards were already in motion, called to investigate the grove where the young dragon had been found.

Liora flew swiftly from the throne room, the injured child cradled in her arms. Her palace healing chamber bloomed into action as she laid him gently on a bed of enchanted moss. She conjured a blossom of aquaflora—water-born flowers only fairy healers could command. One unfurled and gently pierced his veins with its fine roots, delivering rehydration and calming balm into his bloodstream.

Noctis arrived silently and began aiding her, cleansing the residue of wildfire root from the boy’s skin. When the child startled awake, thrashing and afraid, Liora tried to soothe him with words. But he flinched from her.

His terrified cries echoed down the corridor.

Vermior entered, drawn by the sound. The moment the child saw him, he flung himself into the dragon prince’s arms. Vermior caught him with care and began to hum a lullaby:

*"Sleep, little ember, hush your flame,

Clouds will guard you, whisper your name.

Wings of Pyraethra fold you tight,

Carried on winds through the silver night.

Rest in the glow of the mountain’s heart,

Dream of the skies where shadows depart.

No chains of darkness, no stranger’s call,

Only your wings and the stars above all."*

The child stilled, soothed by the song and the prince’s protective arms. Liora watched quietly, her eyes misting. Myrelle stood at the door, unmoving, her heart stirred by the gentleness she witnessed in Vermior. In that moment, she knew—there could never be another man for her.

Later that evening, Queen Ellaria summoned the high council of Veluna to the Starweaver Hall.

The great chamber shimmered with light from floating crystals, each tuned to the magic of the season it represented. Grovewardens from the four quadrants stood before the thrones—Glacira of Frostmere in shimmering white furs, Emberyn of Ambervale in copper-wreathed robes, Seraphae of Solavelle with golden eyes blazing, and Florentis of Blossomreach crowned in vines.

Ellaria sat tall, but tension gripped her knuckles white on the throne's edge. To her right sat Irisel, calm and observant. Myrelle stood beside her with an unreadable face. Liora had taken a seat by Noctis, and Vermior remained standing with arms folded, expression carved in stone.

"We must speak plainly," Ellaria began, voice firm despite the weight pressing on her chest. "A child was harmed today. A young dragon—taken, transformed, and sent into our sacred grove as a weapon. This is no longer a matter of royal suitors. It is an act of treachery."

Glacira stepped forward, her voice laced with outrage. "This happened on our soil, in our season. If one of mine was involved, I will see them punished. But if someone used Frostmere as a tool—then someone has declared war on every Grovewarden in this hall."

Florentis nodded solemnly. "My roots sense dark magic where the young dragon appeared. Old, corrupted magic... tainted with shadow."

Vermior finally spoke. "That boy is no more than ten. Wildfire root was used, forced into his veins to trigger transformation. That magic is outlawed in all dragon territories. And someone here facilitated it."

Seraphae scowled. "Blame is easy. Truth is harder. Do you accuse one of us, Prince?"

"I accuse no one," Vermior said, his voice low but blazing with fury. "But I demand we uncover the truth. I will not return to Pyraethra empty-handed—nor allow this child’s suffering to be ignored. Yes, my people are fierce, but we are not without restraint. Peace is the foundation of our strength."

He took a breath, anger trembling beneath his calm exterior.

"Our young do not transform until the age of sixteen—only then is our dragon side mature enough to bear the physical and magical burden of change. Forcing a child to shift before their time is not only cruel—it is deadly. Had he stayed in that form any longer, his heart might have failed. An untrained changeling of his age could have devastated the entire grove. This was not just an act of dark magic—it was a declaration of war on the future of Pyraethra. And I will not overlook it."

Myrelle’s voice cut through the tension. "Then let us work together. Our people are watching. If we turn on one another now, we give the darkness what it wants, besides we should find the boy's mother and father they must be worried sick"

Liora Chimed in looking somber, " It may be shocking for them to see what has been done to their child, his health is very fragile right now in particular his mind. I held him in my arms, I don't think I can ever forget his cries, or the way he trembled, he could be scarred for life." the expressions of the grove wardens changed each of them had children of their own and Liora's words pulled at their heart strings.

Emberyn a woman of few words gave a nod. " I am concerned most about the dark magic sensed in that area. Dark magic has one singular source throughout all of the realms and if it is what I suspect then we must move quickly. If this is the work of... her—then more children may be at risk."

Queen Ellaria’s face turned cold. "You speak of Noctyra."

The hall fell silent.

Liora spoke up " but the high priestess is gone her followers were either executed or imprisoned" Liora spoke remembering the fierce battle in Moon Kingdon which she had participated in 6 months ago. "Irisel spoke now " Noctyra is a goddess, sister only the gods can truley defeat her."

"The shadow creeps where it is permitted," Ellaria said. "Someone allowed it into our realm. And someone will answer. Its a hard pill to swallow but one of the Fae has fallen into darkness only the Fae can freely travel in and out of here unchecked. We begin full investigation at dawn. No quadrant is exempt."

Vermior bowed. "Your Majesty, I thank you for your swiftness. And for the justice you promise."

Ellaria looked to her daughters. "This court does not bend to fear. We will meet shadow with light."

Deep in the woods…

I watched through the dark-magic mirror the stranger had left me, Aelric thought, his smirk a knife-edge. The woman’s face had always been hidden under her hooded cloak, but it didn’t matter.

He’d already pledged himself.

I want revenge against that Queen and her precious daughters. And I want Vermior to feel as helpless as he made me feel. It was once all within my grasp, the heir to Frostmere, and a candidate for the hand of one of the princesses. I had a plan to use her and usurp the throne. In an instant I lost everything thanks to that arrogant queen and her daughters, but I hate Vermior more than anything. He was the one who stopped me from ending that blood sucker. He had bested him with his sword and utterly humiliated him, that was something he couldn't forgive. He couldn't forgive his mother either, thanks to her he once had no path to claim what he believed was rightfully his, the seat of Frostmere, and ruling over all the fae realm. Until she came.

All I had to do was pledge myself

*Mind, body, and will—to Noctyra, the forgotten Goddess of Darkness. They thought that she had been defeated when they destroyed her high priestess i had thought so as well but she is a goddess one mere priestesses death wasnt going to stop her from rising that is what the cloaked woman had explained. *

When I was lost in my despair without a friend in the world i cried out and of all the gods, she answered. Not like Thalindra, who had abandoned me. Not like the Moon Goddess or the Sea King or the Sun Lord.

Noctyra gave me power.

His frost wings had melted, yes—but in their place grew wings of smoke and void, silent as ash. Where once he was cold and bitter, now he was silent and invisible. Shadow clung to his every step.

The fae realm would soon remember the name Aelric Frostborne.

And it would tremble.