⋯

It's cold here, unnaturally so. Winter marks the edges of the world, coating the grasses in gentled frost, but it's more than just winter that settles into the bones of the weary and wicked. Something more chilling is well on it's way, between hushed whispers and the clicking sound of shoes against raw, untouched stone. The air is still outside, and all sound remains trapped inside the secured homestead, built into the ground, exceeding into the depths of cold, frozen earth, masked by paraded trees and haunting, dense fog.

Still. Something is alive here. Past the age-kissed trunks of old trees, and ominous calls of haze, within the protection of the embedded structure. Far, far within, in fact.

Alive.

That clicking sound, of steps against stone traverses down the hallway. They'll tremble at her wake, darting their own eyes to face that cold, faceless rock to avoid meeting hers. Her skin was inlaid with scars as jagged as from the rocks she was thrown from. Her hair was deep, restless blue- like the night sky or the abyssal waters of the deep. Her eyes were pitch black. Heavy, brooding, with pupils enlarged to see in the darkness down here, far from where the sunlight touches. Teeth sharp enough to take a bite out of someone.

She probably has.

Chills snake down the dreamer's spine, watching from an omnipotent view, seeing and understanding, but knowing they are too far to reach them. To far to stop whatever might happen next. It's a bleak thought, hanging over their head like a dark cloud.

She's holding something in her hand, some kind of vial, filled with dark, crimson liquid. They don't want to ponder on what it might be, turning instead to watch the room open, the center ceiling stretching up past more than a couple of floors. They're far underground, far enough where even then the ceiling doesn't press against the surface, where sunlight might reach the frayed, chained wings of a beloved angel.

Her footfalls stall, and the sound of her voice hollows out the room. It's raspy and menacing. It wasn't what they expected to hear, quite honestly, but after hearing it, it tracks with that same looming aura she seems to carry with her.

Sickness scours their chest, watching as heads turn. Each of them. Seven. The scent of burning, blistered flesh was heavy in the room.

The angel, high above in her cage, blue-spotted wings iron-banded. It looks strained, the golden, brassed cage she's kept in, like if she moved too much, down she would tumble. And without her wings, it wouldn't bode well at all.

Far below, almost directly underneath in fact, surrounded by a circle of runes and wards, was a young male genasi, chained by wrists and ankles to the very element that he'd once had the power over. Trapped, under a teetering, golden cage. If it fell - surely it would not only kill the angel, but the young genasi too.

Only ten feet away, another inlaid circle, with different runes. These ones appeared warm, haze flickering above them, warping the image of a fae, on his knees but eyes trained on the woman before them. Not soft, but not scared either - something so careful and observant, watching.

Another circle, with some of those same searing, warm runes, carefully surrounded a vampire - no - not vampire. Məçkəy. He looked like some shadow of himself, dark, looming, with red, angry eyes. It was haunting in a way, to know the only barrier between them was in the hands of careful, perfected magic. They don't have a doubt that the məçkəy would have wasted a second if they had it.

Beyond that, the other side of the genasi, a circle with cooler coated runes, icy almost. The circle within, surrounding him had a settled layer of frost, and the tiefling was shivering, bursts of vibrant warmth running up his skin once in a while, when he could muster up the strength to do so. He didn't look up, refusing to meet the cold, calculating eyes.

Next to him, yet another set of runes. They looked normal, at first glance maybe, with soft hues of green. But the girl inside looked tired, eyes half-bloodshot, long hair matted in her braid. Deprived of something, maybe the inherent magic she had in the first place.

And behind all of them, a cylindrical, aquatic tank. Not much space to move at all, or to even quite lie down. Soft blue scales adorn his tail, glittering in the glow of blue underlights, but there are some missing. Only a couple, at least from what they can see before them. But that arcanic luminescence has been interrupted, leaving scratched, marred skin beneath.

But they all waited for her to speak, to voice whatever horror she wished to present them with next, perhaps to vanquish whatever hope they might have left in them. It's only been a week, after all. However, there is only so much they can withstand, only so much they can fight against, until the decision is made that maybe, it isn't worth fighting at all.

"Do you know what this is?" She lifts her hand, showcasing the vial. None of them react for a moment, and the tiefling, biting back another shiver, forces his head up.

"Is that supposed to impress us? The fact that you can hold up glass?" They can hear the chill in his voice, no matter how much he tries to suppress it, but it earns a weary, muffled laugh from the young fae.

The woman's face shifts, face contorting into a wicked, arrogant grin. Sadistically delighted, she waves the bottle in her hands. "Don't be snide, don't you know this is all that's left of your human friend?"

The teifling's face drops.

It's silent then, suspenseful and tightly wound. For a breath, no one says anything at all, until the məçkəy's face scrunches up, mouth twisting into a grimace. "You're lying."

"Am I?" she feigns shock, pulling the vial back as her other hand twists the top of the vial off. "Only one way to find out, I suppose. Smells human to me"

"That doesn't mean it's our hu-" his words stop short as the top of the vial is removed, and his face shifts into something else entirely, eyes wide now as they drop from her ruthless, unforgiving features, to the delicate glass she's holding with only her fingers.

"Yaşru." The words are trembling, but who do they come from, but the young, frail-looking girl in that circle. Like she knows too. Still, the others turn their head to look at the məçkəy - Yaşru - but all he can stare at is that vial.

Blood.

Human blood.

Their human's blood.

"Sulli." The name comes out like it hurts. Like it's unbearable to even think about. And still, he can't look away from the only thing left of them. Left of their human. His face has changed into something like internal agony, his chest caving in as he breathes the word.

"No," It's the tiefling that time, on his knees as fury crosses his features, "You said Erlik would protect them-"

"Maybe it's not them- maybe-" but the fae has already fallen to his own knees, hands digging into warm, softened earth, heated by the runes that surround him. The protest falls flat, withering in the silence that replaces the sob that is choked back.

"I thought he would." Yaşru's voice is steady, but horror threads between his words. Horror because he made a promise he couldn't keep. Horror because he let a human make a liar out of him. Horror because he had failed.

"It's a shame. Really." The woman clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, "I detest killing humans, but he knew too much."

"They."

"Pardon?" She lifts her eyes from the glass vial, jet-black pupils trailing to where the shifter is sitting, frail, and broken-hearted. Tears glimmer in her eyes, but she sits up from where she'd been kneeling.

"They." The words come out more like a hiss now, low and lethal. "You killed them."

There are rumors about shifters, particularly aerial shifters, and their connection to mythology. They have this need to run free, to be free. It's instinctual for them to want the sky, to love it like they would their soulmate. Perhaps the sky is their soulmate in a way. It pursues its magic, that thirst for freedom, to be unbridled, untamed, unrestrained. There's history within them, from their ancestry, to reach hold of that arcanic power inside of them and feed.

A rumor.

That's all.

Until the shifter lifts her head, digs her hands into the ground, and screams.

Screams so raw and unfiltered that it hollows out the room in a moment. Her body bulges like it's pulsing with untapped energy, and they know - they know that nothing could stop this. The heavy, thick smell of blood rings through the air, not metallic like a humans might be, but distasteful all the same. Her spine snaps, and bones shoot from her back, stretching and expanding the skin.

Not a bird's wings.

Dragon wings.

Her skin turns textured all in one second, rapidly eating away the smooth human-like flesh that had been there only a moment ago, enveloping her as bones extend rapidly, and her body enlarges, pressing past that invisible-fucking barrier that kept her in place.

And her scream.

Her scream turns into a roar.

"Adelaide!"

It comes from above, that beautiful, musical voice - it's the angel, only her hand is visible, outstretched from where the cage keeps her locked up, high above her friends, far from them. To far to help at all.

Adelaide is bleeding now, between her scales, along her wings, where there had been soft, sensitive skin a moment before. Her body has torn itself apart to make way for this. This is what aerial shifters were made for.

But it's only moments before water lashes from all sides, that wicked grin never shifts from the woman's face, and her fingers twitch at her sides. Water ropes lash against the newly formed dragon, draining the tank that they'd kept the mermaid in, and suddenly his voice was vocalized.

The water looked cold as it whipped at freshly-formed wings, digging into the exposed wounds that still remained from the shift, shoving the dragon, shoving Adelaide backwards. Scattered shadows of henchman darted forward, terrified far more of her than of the dragon before them, and the creature stumbled over her feet as she was forced backwards- back, back, back until the dragon- not quite tall enough for her proud head to reach the golden cage, slammed wounded wings into the room, and ropes were thrown over the snout, past the ankles as if this had been the plan.

As if they'd known all along, what this might lead too.

"Please." It's begging, begging to stop this. To stop hurting her.

The merman, who's voice had been muffled and stolen by a border of water. His legs were quickly reforming now that the tank was empty, but his palms were pressed to the glass, eyes wide.

"Please, I- Please, don't hurt her."

The woman held up her hand, stalling the water whips as ropes continued to secure the new and injured dragon to the ground. The only reason Adelaide couldn't fight back properly, was because this being - this body was still new to her. Was strange and foreign and unstable and it looked like it hurt. Still, the dark-eyed woman stepped forward, towards the tank, her smile crooked. "Oh?"

"I'll do anything- I- please-"

"Anything?" her eyes flickered to his tail, and his eyes followed the stare. 

He swallowed hard, before moving to meet her unflinching gaze again. "You can have them. I won't fight you."

"Madden." It was the tiefling again, straining against cold, unwavering barriers, "No, Madden- wait-"

"You can have them all. I-just- please."

"Mm." She mused, waving her hand "Take my darling here-" she motioned to Madden, "To a private room. I suppose we'll have to remove those pretty scales of yours after all."

And as he's lugged out of his tank, he doesn't look at his friends, but maybe - just maybe, right before he leaves the room, they hear the first, terrified, sob.

⋯

Fawn shoots up in her bed, breathing heavily and labored. Through her window, she can see the stars glimmer. It does little to calm her nerves as she kicks off the blankets, using the wall to steady herself to her feet. She's trembling, she knows it, but she has to tell someone what she saw.

She knows well and true, the difference between a nightmare, and a vision.

There's no time for tears, no time to let fear settle in. There is no time at all because she knows. She knows what they are doing to them, to her people, and there must be a way to save them from this fate- to warn the others that the monster hunters are back and they are coming for them. For all of them

The castle is quiet, it's not a surprise. It's the middle of the night after all. Soft light blooms from the hung lanterns, dancing fire spirits deep within the flame, loyalty pledged under the guidance of tiefling magic. Ceilings arch high above her, and windows stream starlight and moons from countless galaxies from the beyond. The night sky here is painted in hues of deep, rich colors, much like the northern lights on Earth - only it's everywhere here.

Aurora Borealis.

The thought comes in passing as her mind moves relentlessly, scouring over every image, every hint of where they are. Of when that vision happened - or will happen - or is even if it's happening now. She has to tell someone.

Her feet slam into the ground as she grabs the edge of the door to the throne room. It's less conventional than it should be, but it has long been converted from the single throne, - instead, a desk is stretched out around the room, circular, with thrones in place behind - and at the center, four thrones, higher than the other four seats - two on either side, sit. One of them is decorated in blue, blooming flowers, frosted at the edges, and kissed by winter moonlight and bathed stars. Her brother sits, brow furrowed at his work.

Orion.

The oldest of the four of them. Fawn is the youngest - the summer baby - she supposes it makes sense. Her other siblings - the fae that represented those other two seasons are long gone now. They were slaughtered - killed in cold blood.

By them.

The thought makes her blood run cold, and she swallows the growing lump in her throat. "Orion."

His eyes meet hers, cold and unflinching as always, but for a moment they soften, motioning her closer as he sets aside his work. "It's late, Fawn."

"I saw something."

He pauses, his eyebrows furrowing as his mouth tightens. "A nightmare?"

"No."

I wish it had been.

See, clairvoyance isn't common within Fae beings. It's rare even in royal blood, by by some grace of the feywild, Fawn's been granted it. Orion himself doesn't have it, and he's much older than Fawn is - she supposes it's a product of their need for it. Especially in these times.

"I see." He stands, height towering over Fawn's as he steps around the desk, approaching her. "Well. Do tell."

"They're back." The words feel caught in her chest, threatening to eat her alive. Fawn's never met a monster hunter before - she's never seen one. All she knows is from the stories Orion has told her. Of when their siblings were laid into as if they were nothing but demons to be vanquished. 

Orion stills in front of her, "What did you see."

"They- an angel, um a vampire - not a vampire- those, um-"

"Məçkəy?"

"Yes. That. A merman, a shifter, a genasi, a teifling, and a fae, I think."

Orion remains still, and Fawn can't read his face. The cons of being a Winter Fae, she supposes. Hardly expressive. "Did you get their names?"

"A couple- Madden, Adelaide, Yaşru-"

"Fuck." Orion's voice comes out breathless. "Fuck." He reaches up, pinching the bridge of his nose. Distress is written over his face, and it deepens the unending worry and anxiety in the pit of Fawn's stomach.

"Orion?"

"Fuck- they have Kelsey."

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WYN

seventeenth chapter -- mb guys don't know what came over me there

I know it's been a while, (a hot minute for sure) so I'll give you a short explanation. Sorry for the shorter chapter once again, it's a little less than I'd like, but I'm happy with where it's ending, and I don't wanna over-analyze it!

this past week has been a wild one for me

me and my girlfriend broke up - due to some hurtful things she said. In short, i'd like to remind everyone that SA jokes aren't funny. At all. As someone with a history of it - they aren't funny, and they especially aren't funny when you're calling your girlfriend a abuser as a joke right after she told you her history with it. 

sorry I've been SO busy as of late, a lot has been going on (once again) but I hope you're all doing great in the semester, and I'm very proud of you all!

mb for the heartbreak once again!

and friendly reminder that Fawn is one of my BEST friend's character Vii - so check out her form! a lot of the familial details and backstory have been adapted - but personality and fears and those kind of things will remain the same!

love you all <33