<h1>Faerie Market</h1>
<h2>Fly as fast as you can, little messenger.
Time is running out. </h2>
<p>[[●Begin your Journey|1]]</p>
<h1> Prolog</h1>
<h3>It all started with a message. </h3>
An urgent message about the strange shift of the wind. Times were changing, and that wasn’t what anyone wanted to hear in a land as static and predictable as [[Faerie.|2]]<a href="https://faerie-market-if.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">''By Junebug''</a>Faerie MarketIt wasn’t unusual for stray bits of magic to seep into the human world. Will-o-wisps, spirits, even the odd curse or spell could find their way to the gates between worlds. Fae themselves often traveled between worlds to interact with mortals.
Humans, on the other hand, were wholly unable to harness magic, most not even able to see it for what it truly is. The odd mortal could learn the tricks of the cards or a hag stone fished out of a river, but they could never master the arts.
That is why rumors of a human girl parting a river to find a lost ring were so [[alarming.|3]]
Stories spread and grew like weeds across the four courts. And as the stories grew, panic followed. Whispers that this was the downfall of Faerie itself, that magic was abandoning the fae in favor of humanity.
Panic threatened to consume Faerie as the fae of all courts wondered what this would mean. It was of utmost importance that the ruling High Fae find a solution and calm their people.
It was from that need that a messenger was born.
<p>[[●The Winter King’s messenger flew on silent wings|winter court]]</p>
<p>==●The other courts will be added in later updates==</p><<nobr>>
<<set $MCcourt= "winter">>
<</nobr>>\
The Winter King is just as cold and harsh as his domain implies. He cares little for the comforts the other courts take pleasure from and expects the same from his subjects. The barren labyrinth outside his castle sees no sun and supports no plants. The king has an… interest in humans, to say the least. Every decade he heads the Wild Hunt with his fearsome Black Dogs. Any stories of Fae stealing children away in the night were likely inspired, if exaggerated, by tales of the Winter Court. Perhaps some of the anger the King felt upon hearing of the mortals' new magic was fear. It is in the King’s best interest to keep humans away from anything that would allow them revenge.
Results were needed quickly, and there would be no room for a slow messenger. He needed the fasted messenger in the realm to keep his prey in their [[place.|4]]
<h2>[[That’s where you come in.|5]] </h2>Created from the latent magic of Faerie, as all fae are, to serve your High Fae. Your mighty wings allowed you to soar between the Courts, delivering vital messages and arranging meetings between the rulers of your world at staggering speeds.
<<if $MCcourt is "winter">> You were the best of the [[best.|win1]]
<</if>>
The cold is getting unbearable. Sensation has fled most of your limbs by this point, and you’re sure icicles are hanging off your ears. You can barely see through the sharp winds. Even for a fae created to withstand the harshest winters, this is getting ridiculous.
It just keeps getting worse the closer you get to your destination. You should have been out of this blizzard hours ago, but when the winds picked up, you had to land and walk to avoid getting thrown around like a ragdoll in the sky. Your boots and hood were filled with snow from all the times you’ve fallen.
Really this weather is inexcusable. The King must be having a hell of a tantrum to throw his court into this much of a frozen hellscape.
Movements slow and shivering, you finally, finally, make it to the [[palace steps.|win2]]Ok. Deep breath- take a moment to brush off all the snow. Shake off any weariness from the trip. Your King demands the best, after all. Announce your presence with the knocker-
<h2>//CLANG
CLANGG
CLANNNGGGG.//</h2>
…..
Ok. Aaaand [[enter.|win3]]
Pushing through the ice jamming the hinges, the enormous wooden doors relent and allow you entrance to the innermost fortress of the Winter Court.
The obsidian walls of the Winter King’s palace have never been particularly warm, made of opaque black ice and all, and today is no different. You’re just thankful that they shield the intense wind.
But there’s no time to waste. The grand entrance hall is directly connected to the throne room, a deliberate decision on the King’s part so he can see everyone who enters the palace. Which means, unfortunately, his highness is staring straight through you with blatant, cold apathy.
The only way to really tell when the Winter King is looking at you is from the chill that runs down your spine. Solid white eyes settle on you as you start to speak. It makes you instinctively straighten your posture and fix your eyes straight ahead.
“Y-your Highness,” A small bow before you can approach, your movements still jittery as you slowly warm up, “I’ve- ahem- I’ve arrived back with your reply from the Summer Queen.”
The whole of the King stays frozen still as he reaches out his hand. The movement sends a wave of frigid air your way, the very atmosphere dropping in temperature to show its respect to the King. You don’t let the small shiver show as you hurry to hand off the letter with a bow; every movement precise and practiced to perfection.
His sharp features remain completely stoic as, you assume, he scans the letter. Long white hair whips around his face as though he were standing in the middle of a hurricane. The howling of the outside storm picks up. You have no idea what the Queen could have possibly said to upset your King this much. Then, suddenly and without warning, everything stills. There’s snow starting to form in the air when he finally replies. His deep, monotone voice cutting through the silence. “You will not be late again, messenger. Dismissed.” And that’s all the word you need to take your [[leave.|win4]]
The crystalline halls of The Winter Palace have been your home for the entirety of your existence. You know the maze-like structure like the back of your hand, and it takes mere seconds to reach the servant quarters. You don't see much of the halls on your trip, but honestly, there isn't much to see. Just the same repeating high arches and frozen walls. And besides, there's no telling how long it will be until you're called on again.
You could really use a nap. The only thing on your mind is your bed.
Maybe that’s why you’re so surprised when someone behind you starts [[talking.|win5]]
“Oh,” The voice isn’t nearly as cold as your King’s, but it has you whipping around to find its owner regardless, “You’re back already, are you?” Looks like one of your fellow messengers was just leaving their room. You recognize them instantly; even with such a large domain, the Winter King prefers to keep his staff to a minimum.
Everything about Solstice is perfectly put together. From the thick white mane around their neck to the tip of their long, black, fluffy tail, not a single hair is out of place. They wear sensible clothes, a warm cotton shirt and pants, and a thick cloak to keep the snow away. Their white mask hides their face, but the way their long canine ears flatten out makes it clear they’re irritated, and you have a pretty good guess why.
They’re among the most talented messengers in all the courts, second only to yourself. Their specialization in teleportation magic dramatically cuts down the time needed to travel between the courts. You have little doubt that they’d easily outpace you if teleporting didn’t take so much out of them. Solstice has always been distant with other fae, especially you. It wouldn’t take a genius to guess there’s some jealousy there.
<p>[[●You wish you could be friends, you’re rather fond of Solstice.|win6][$solbg to "interest"]]</p>
<p>[[●You’ve always tried to be kind to them, even when they ignore you.|win6][$solbg to "friendly"]]</p>
<p>[[●You never really cared about what others think of you, and you’re not going to start with Solstice.|win6][$solbg to "neutral"]]</p>
<p>[[●You’re honestly annoyed by them. You’ve never done anything to them, so why should they be so rude to you?|win6][$solbg to "dislike"]]</p><<if $solbg is "interest">>There’s just something about the canine messenger that you like! You’ve seen the charming wit hiding under their cold exterior during your brief times together, and you want to see more. But they always react the same way- with cold disinterest.
<<elseif $solbg is "friendly">>They may be cold towards you, but you always try to be friendly towards Solstice. Show them that you’re not as bad as they seem to think, that you could even be friends if they’d give you a shot! But they never give you a shot. Oh well, maybe one day.
<<elseif $solbg is "neutral">>It never bothered you that Solstice wants to keep their distance. You’ve got a job to do, and you hardly have time to bother trying to make nice with your fellow messengers. You’re barely around the palace, so it’s not like you two see each that much anyways.
<<elseif $solbg is "dislike">>Who wouldn’t be annoyed? You’re just doing your job, and they decided to hate you for it. Sure, you don’t know them personally, but why would you want to? The fact that they’re talking to you at all is surprising, given that you’ve made no effort to hide that their attitude bugs you.
<</if>>
A twitch of Solstice’s ears brings you back to the present moment. Right, you still haven’t responded.
<p>[[●“Did you miss me?”|win6a]]</p>
<p>[[●“Hello, Solstice”|win 6b]]</p>
<p>[[● ”I didn’t come here to be mocked.”|win 6c]]</p>
<p>[[●And you don’t intend to. Ignore them.|win 6d]]</p>Well, that was rude. Though not unexpected coming from Solstice. Your fellow messenger has never been particularly interested in playing nice with coworkers. Well, even if they won’t be courteous, you don’t have to be rude in return. “Hello, Solstice,” the response is polite, if a bit strained.
Seemingly pacified by your greeting, they take a few short steps down the hall. When they decide you’re far enough away, they send a curious look back your way. Their mask masks any emotion, and the tell-tale build-up of force marks their teleportation away before you can get a read on their body language.
You’re left alone in the hallway with the smell of mint.
Well then, with Solstice gone, you’d better some rest before-
<h2>Return [[messenger.|win7]] </h2>Leaning against the wall, you let a wide smile spread across your face.
You can already see Solstice's defenses rising. They always were… reactive that way. If they would just realize that you enjoy winding them up. But you're not about to pass this chance up.
"...Did you miss me?"
Solstice physically flinches away from you as if trying to literally dodge the question. Their mask does nothing to hide how their fuzzy ears perk forward towards you. You'd almost feel bad if it wasn't so endearing, watching such a stoic creature utterly unsure of their next moves.
For a moment, it looks like they're going to respond, though it's hard to tell with the mask covering their face. The silence lingers a moment too long before a signature swell of energy signals Solstice’s departure.
The air seems to blur around them. Force builds up uncomfortably in your head until it pops. And they're gone, leaning only the smell of mint in their wake.
Well then, with Solstice gone, you’d better some rest before-
<h2>Return [[messenger.|win7]] </h2>If they can’t be bothered to hide their apparent dislike for you, then there’s no reason to be civil in return.
With a strong glare, you spit out a response, “I didn’t come here to be mocked, Solstice.”
The harshness of your statement seems to take the messenger by surprise as they stand in shock silence instead of spouting off a rude retort.
You don’t waver, however, keeping your glare firmly on their mask, refusing to be the one to break first.
With a violent thrash of their long tail, Solstice teleports away. The sudden shift in pressure makes you lean away, but at least you won the stare-off. You’re left alone with the signature after-smell of mint that comes with Solstice’s magic. What a jerk.
Well then, with Solstice gone, you’d better some rest before-
<h2>Return [[messenger.|win7]] </h2>
You just want to relax after your journey without talking to anyone. Is that so much to ask? The hallway is wide enough to circle around Solstice and onto your room. They watch you from the corner of their eye, their long ears flicking occasionally. You guess they aren’t used to being ignored.
Solstice takes your silence as their cue to leave; the thrum of magic pulses intensely before disappearing along with Solstice as they teleport away.
You’re too far down the hall to notice the smell of mint left in their wake.
Well then, with Solstice gone, you’d better some rest before-
<h2>Return [[messenger.|win7]] </h2>
His magic thrums through your whole body, pulling you away from the obsidian halls towards something more ancient and primal. A familiar frozen warmth that buzzes somewhere between your heart and your wings.
The ancient magic that formed your ruler pulls at the very core of your being, commanding you do his bidding.
An order from your King.
Looks like sleep will have to come later.
With little choice in the matter, you return to the [[throne room.|win8]]
“You called, your Majesty?”
It seems the worst of the storm has passed, the ever-present chill no longer unbearable. Your King sits slumped over his throne, and though his face is still carefully neutral as ever, this is the most emotion you’ve ever seen him display. The sight sends your wings fluttering with nervous energy, though you’re quick to still them.
“Say you were in my position, messenger,” His icy glare settles on you once more, “How would you reign in these so-called ‘High Fae?’”
“Me, your Majesty?”
“You’ve sat in on many conversations between the court rulers. Surely you’ve picked up something useful?” Your King’s eyes narrow, the implicate threat clear in his tone. You’d better have a good idea, or else.
“Well, there is one idea you might consider…." Shifting in place, you hesitate just a moment before sharing your idea. “I think the quickest way to come up with a solution would be to have a proper, in-person conversation. With respect, letters aren’t moving fast enough to get a solid solution.”
A slight raise of the eyebrow is the only reaction you get, and you feel your stomach drop. Oh. Oh no. Oh, you just sealed your fate, haven’t you?
He’s standing up. Why is he standing up? You force your face to stay perfectly neutral, having to bite your tongue as The Winter King starts to step towards you. With every echoing step against the ice floor, you can feel the temperature drop another degree.
“And how, little Messenger, do you suggest I do that? Throw myself at the mercy of that pitiful excuse of a queen?” Those lifeless eyes are the only thing you can see, pale and angry and staring directly through you to the magic at your core.
Think of something. Say something. Anything.
“What if there was somewhere new? Somewhere outside the courts?” His Majesty’s gaze refocuses on your face and away from your vulnerable core. You aren’t safe yet, but you’ve bought some time. “There would be no need for anyone to enter another’s domain. You could all focus on finding a solution and not waiting for messengers.”
“Hm. Perhaps you have some use still.” Unceremoniously, your King turns and waves you off, “Return to your quarters and rest. You’ll know when I require your [[services again.”|win9]]
The second you’re out of the throne room, it’s like someone cut the strings holding you up. All tension leaves your body as you fall slack against the cold wall. It can be so hard to tell what your King is thinking, and right now you’re just glad your suggestion didn’t offend.
Summoning what little energy you had left, you returned to the servants’ quarters. Looks like you have a long few days ahead of [[you.|win10]]
The following days were a whirlwind of activity. You were kept busy flying back and forth between all four courts. It seems your idea was a hit not just with your own High Fae but with the other three as well.
To say your King had been warmer towards you after your suggestion would be incorrect, but he certainly wasn’t as cold. The winds and air currents seemed to push you even faster on your flights, like Faerie itself was suddenly in [[your favor.|garden1]]
The negotiations for a meeting on neutral ground went quickly. The other courts seemed just as tired of endless back and forth as you were. It took only one week for an agreement to be reached and preparations started. Practically seconds when the High Fae were involved.
It was agreed that Lady Autumn would oversee the creation of this new addition to Faerie. The fluid nature of the world of Fae allowed her to pull the land from thin air, settling the new addition somewhere in the center of the courts.
It would cycle through all four seasons, as a symbol of equality through the courts- no one season taking power over the rest.
Finally, the first proper discussion between the rulers of Faerie was about to take place.
[[And it’s all thanks to you.|garden2]]
The day of the meeting was finally here. You stand beside your High Fae in what is now called The Garden. It seems to be in spring right now, a fitting season for new beginnings.
The trees that line the meadow sprout new green leaves, and flowers bloom throughout the tall grass. The sun is shining, a gentle breeze keeps you from overheating- it would almost be a perfect day, were it not for the tension in the air.
“We would be waiting for her,” your King mutters, the gentle breeze turning frigid with his annoyance.
The Summer Queen is late. Which, if you're being honest, isn't out of character for her. The lackadaisical nature of the summer court has always contrasted heavily with the strict nature of the others. Even Lady Autumn, who runs a rather loose ship, would never arrive late to a meeting like this.
And yet, here you all are. Standing around and waiting.
And frankly, it's getting cold next to your King. He naturally brings a chill with him, but it always gets worse when he's annoyed. You take your cue from the other fae around you, shuffling back a few passes. The growing frost quickly covers the grass disturbed by your feet. You’re still the closest to the Frozen King, so the cold seeping from him hits you the hardest without time to warm up, but you tuck your wings in tight and weather the cold. What good would you be as a Winter messenger if you couldn’t handle a [[minor chill?|gardwin1]]
To pass the time (and get your mind off the cold), you look around the rest of the fae gathered here.
The clearing has been divided into groups, as fae naturally group around their High Fae, with one notable section empty. The Summer Queen had better get here soon, or this whole thing will have been a waste. Ugh, you can already feel the weight of angry letters you’ll have to deliver between your king and the queen.
Well, no use worrying about what isn’t here.
[[Examine the Spring Court.|springcourt]]
You sense more than see the Spring Lord in the midst of his court. He’s, uh, rather short, and you think you can juuuust barely make out the top of his head? But his magical presence more than makes up for his short stature.
It feels like harsh brambles and rushing water. Forcing everything to bend to his will or suffer his wrath. Even across the clearing, you can feel it, urging you to stand up straight and be presentable. Nothing less than perfect. Any closer, and you might just get crushed under the all-consuming pressure.
At least The Garden seems to appreciate having him here. The grass and flowers seem more vibrate and lush around the cluster of Spring fae, some even working their magic into the trees circling the clearing. Spring fae would still be on the job here, you think. Always fussing that lot, they don’t know the meaning of letting things be.
Oh- looks like you’ve been caught staring. A dryad near the edge of the group catches your eye, their scowl a clear sign they’re unhappy with your appraisal.
Face flushing- you move your gaze onto the [[Autumn Court.|autumncourt]]
Autumn’s magic feels perhaps the most similar to your own. The cold stillness draws you in, and if you didn’t have so much practice pulling yourself out of the Winter King’s grasp, Autumn might just keep you there.
The High Scholar, Lady Autumn, seems bored with this whole affair. She sits alone on a log, reading over scrolls and occasionally scribbling notes in the margins. A crown of black twigs and maple seeds keeps her whispy gray hair out of her face as she works.
The rest of her court seems to know not to bother her. The strange mishmash of the Autumn fae are doing their best to stand away from their Lady, leaving her to… whatever it is she's doing. There's no pattern to the company she's brought. Maybe it was just whoever was free this [[afternoon.|garden3]]
"INTRODUCING-Gah!"
"Hello, my deers! The Queen has arrived!" As fashionably late as ever, the Summer Queen announces her arrival by cutting off her squire-toad, pushing the small frog man out of her way as she waltzes into the clearing. Her skirt train leaves a path of wildflowers in its wake. A path her company follows as she walks to the space left open for her.
A parade of beautiful dryads and satyrs follows the Queen into the clearing, all wearing celebration clothes made of the freshest spider silk, flower petals, and butterfly wings. The Queen always did know how to make an entrance. Her convoy is loud and chatty and, above all else, showing off like this is a Solstice festival.
Your King stands perfectly still, giving the Queen the exact amount of respect due and not an ounce more- but the air around him takes a very noticeable drop in temperature.
Lady Autumn doesn't even bother looking up from her scroll.
“You’re late.” The Spring Lord finally breaks the ice, stomping over to the Queen to scold her. From the crowd, there are several poorly disguised laughs. It's really quite the sight. He barely comes up to her waist.
"A Queen is never late." Her threatening tone betrays her pleasant smile, “Everyone else is simply [[early.”|garden4]]
The tension is palpable. Fae from all courts slowly take a few steps back from the pair.
Fortunately, before the matter gets out of hand Lady Autumn sets her scroll down and speaks up. “Well, now that everyone is here, we may as well start. My time is valuable.”
Tensions discharged, the other High Fae seem to agree. With convoys dismissed, the meeting proper can begin, and you are free to wander [[The Garden.|garden5]]
Space is weird in Faerie. It bends and folds and stretches entirely at will. The exact same trip on the exact same route could take an hour or a full day, depending on if the paths are feeling playful.
So it’s really no surprise that the looping walkway you left the clearing on has taken you somewhere completely unexpected.
A tunnel of trees and foliage leaves you wholly isolated from anyone else. Off in the distance, you can hear faint murmurings of your fellow fae, but that doesn’t matter now. Now it is only you and the trees. There is no birdsong, no buzzing insects, and the longer you walk, the less you can hear those far away voices through the trees.
Less and less sun filters through the trees, but it doesn’t feel ominous. The court of ice and snow is bathed in perpetual night, and you are more than comfortable in the shadows.
Delicate white flowers, snowdrops you realize, rapidly push through the ground into full bloom. One by one, they appear, enticing you down a path meant for you. The subtle thrum of magic rushes in your ears like raging water.
You are alone. And something wants you to go down this path.
[[It feels like destiny.|garden6]]
The walk takes both seconds and hours. Whatever trance you’re in leaves you unable to do anything but follow the flowers as they appear. Everything else blurs to the wayside in your frenzied hunt for whatever is at the end of it all. The trees grow denser, casting everything in darkness, and the path grows thin and overgrown, but nothing ever impedes your efforts.
Finally, finally, the thick foliage opens up into a bright clearing, smaller than the main area but just as picturesque. As you step out into the sun, the spell is broken. Foxtails and fireweed grow dotted amongst the grass, the whole clearing walled by tall weeping willows. And growing in the center is a lone gigantic tree.
Look closely. What kind of tree is it?
<p>[[●A gnarled oak|tree1][$tree to "oak"]]</p>
<p>[[●A weeping willow|tree1][$tree to "willow"]]</p>
<p>[[●A birch tree|tree1][$tree to "birch"]]</p>
<p>[[●A flowering wisteria|tree1][$tree to "wisteria"]]</p>
<p>[[●A towering redwood|tree1][$tree to "redwood"]]</p>
<p>[[●A yew tree|tree1][$tree to "yew"]]</p>
<p>[[●A mangroove|tree1][$tree to "mangroove"]]</p><<if $tree is "oak">>Its age-worn branches twist and curl outwards from an old moss-covered trunk, claiming as much of the little grove as possible. The splintering branches create a dome completely contrasted with the soft curtain of a weeping willow, hard and surviving, leaves only growing on the outer edges of twisted limbs. It feels tough. Like the tree has survived through hell and high water and come out on top.
<<elseif $tree is "willow">>The thick trunk curves and branches upwards, splitting into smaller and smaller twigs that drape down in a thick green curtain. A gentle breeze rustles the handing foliage, making the whole tree sway into the wind.
<<elseif $tree is "birch">>Or, more accurately, a small cluster of birch trees. The white, peeling bark is interspersed with deep black crescents, some even looking a bit too much like eyes for your comfort. It’s odd how densely clustered they are, almost like they’re trying to protect something in the center.
<<elseif $tree is "wisteria">>The curved trunk flowers outwards into a broad canopy of trailing purple flowers. The countless blooms fill the clearing with an overpoweringly sweet smell that makes your head swim. As if on cue, the wind shifts, pushing the smell away as you step further towards the tree.
<<elseif $tree is "redwood">>A single redwood stands in the clearing, its gargantuan size completely dwarfing the surrounding trees. It doesn’t even have branches where the tallest oak ends. You’re kinda amazed it wasn’t the first thing you saw. The base of the trunk takes up a good chunk of the clearing.
<<elseif $tree is "yew">>There are slight gaps in the trunk that you have to assume are from multiple saplings forming one giant tree. It’s gnarled and ancient, limbs reaching up and outwards only to slouch down towards the ground. Little red berries dot the thin sharp leaves of the tree.
<<elseif $tree is "mangroove">>A tree that grows in wetlands is very out of place in the completely dry clearing but not the most unusual thing you’ve seen in Faerie.
It’s not a very tall tree above the roots, but what the trunk lacks, the roots more than make up for. The towering tangle of above-ground roots sits high above the grasses and wildflowers of the meadow.
<</if>>
Just as you move to look closer, the tell-tale thrum of magic calling you back to the clearing buzzes into your mind. Seems the meeting is over, and you took longer than you meant to get here. There’s no need to return to the Garden clearing- your High Fae knows you’ve received the message.
With powerful wingbeats, you take to the sky, hopes of a better future for Faerie, making the journey home all the [[lighter.|pw1]]
Time passes. There hasn’t been a blizzard since that first [[meeting.|pw2]]Things have been running surprisingly smoothly. The meetings between the high fae have brought up several solutions, and an end seems in sight. It’s almost hard to believe that this whole thing started over simply rumors of one human; talk of it has all but died out by now.
But something seems to be stirring on the horizon. The latest meetings should have come to a close by now, but your King is still away. A sense of unease has filled the whole castle, leaving you restless and anxious. Outside, the howling winds of Winter are picking up. Their frigid wails pierce through the frozen halls of the palace. The cold would be unbearable to a fae of any other court. But luckily for you, it’s just very uncomfortable.
Just when you’re thinking about making up some excuse to go fly around some other court, anywhere but here, the tell-tale static charge of magic starts to build up right at the base of your skull. It feels like ice water poured down your back, harsh and angry and sapping any lingering warmth you may have had.
And right on cue-
<h2>[[MESSENGER|pw3]]</h2>The deep voice pounds through your head far more violently than you’re used to.
Oh no. That can’t be good.
You’re moving before you have time to think, powerful wings sending you through the maze-like halls towards the throne room. Instincts take over, the countless times you've flown this path the only thing that makes this unlooking journey possible.
The mad dash felt like seconds, and before you realize it, you reach a side door entrance to the throne room.
You want to hesitate and take a minute to gather your thoughts, but the call from your King doesn’t let you.
[[Open the door.|pw4]]
“YOU!” The roar feels like plunging into ice water. You’re left frozen and powerless, gasping for breath as the Winter King rages towards you. The piercing winds only get worse as he gets closer.
“YOU WRETCHED TRAITOR! YOU DARE TRY TO FOOL ME!?” Sharp claws grab your shoulders hard, but you don’t even register the pain. The icicle grip leeches away any lingering warmth or hopes you had.
The winds whip ice-shard snowflakes like a crossbow. It hurts, but you can’t move.
As much as you want to, you need to close your eyes- you can’t. You’re completely at his will. Dominated by freezing magic so entirely that your very core is slowing down.
It’s so cold. You can’t think.
You barely notice when the world turns, your King harshly shoving your frozen body to the ground.
Around you, the blizzard starts to slow down. The snow settles onto a thick blanket, furious winds calming into a sharp breeze. You’re far too numb to notice.
“You’re pathetic.” The King’s monotone voice pounds inside your head, “Get out of my court. I never want to see hide nor hair of you [[again.”|pw5]]
Before your slowed mind can even understand the order, your High Fae crosses the throne room and leaves without sparing you a second glance.
A weak whimper is all you can muster, the Order already enforcing itself on your body.
“No, please-” You’re so tired. Muscles too numb and cold to even be sore. It would be so easy, so easy to just slip into sleep…
[[get up|pw6]]
==//give in//==
You- you can’t. Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to rest- but you can’t. He won’t let you.
Your Order pulls at your core, forcing your exhausted body to do your King’s bidding one last time. Slowly, on shaky legs, your body forces you to stand. It burns. The exertion pulls a paradoxical fire out of your limbs. Still, you force yourself [[on.|pw7]]
The throne room has never felt so gigantic. Each step is a battle. Whatever the King did to you completely drained your energy, even as you feel the cold tendrils of magic withdrawing from your core.
By the time you’re halfway across the room, enough feeling has returned to your limbs that you can feel just how bitter cold it is. Everything hurts. Each laboured breath stings.
Shit, you’re so close! Just a few more steps-
You stumble forwards, intending on bracing against the door for a moment, but the castle seems to have other plans. The doors swing open right before impact, leaving you plummeting downwards. Thankfully you already had your arms braced for impact, so you hit the frozen ground with little more than a yelp and a [[thud.|pw8]]
The second you pass through the castle doors, the worst of the spell washes off. The winter court's fresh, frigid air feels familiar and distant as you gasp and pant, desperate to fill your burning lungs.
And there you lay, on the steps of your former home, letting your magic and energy refill, just thinking for as long as you can bear it. The order is still tugging at you, nudging you to keep moving, get out of your court, and never return. When you feel like you can stand without collapsing again, the buzz of the order gets even more insistent.
<p>[[●Look back one last time|pw9][$leaving to 1]]</p>
<p>[[●Just leave. If you look back you might not be able to.|pw9][$leaving to 2]]</p><<if $leaving is 1>>The tall spires of the castle cast a dark silhouette against the full moon. As the door slams itself shut behind you, you know the home you were created to serve has fully rejected you. It’s beautiful really- the ice spires reaching into the pitch dark sky, the stars all blotted out by the fearsome storm your king has brewed. It makes what you have to do that much harder.
<<elseif $leaving is 2>>Your court has rejected you. You don’t know where to go, but you know you can’t stay here. So, you just. Go. Wander off into the endless night, hoping against hope to find somewhere semi-soft to land. <</if>>
The night is cold. It’s every bit as harsh and unyielding as the King that just threw you out. There is nothing left for you to do but walk; you don’t trust your wings, heavy and numb as they are on your back. And so walk you do.
The chill is a cold comfort, forcing you to focus on the discomfort of the present instead of what lies ahead.
The path away from your former home is not one you tread often, and you fumble a bit on the icy cobblestone as you wander off into the frigid [[night.|demo end]]
this is the end of the current demo. You can follow the project here or follow my dev tumblr to get updates and extra content
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