Page 6 of Within the Veil

"Have you ever paused to muse upon why every creature, regardless of species, repeatedly stumbles into the same snares?" I let my gaze waver for a brief moment only to turn back when Ruadhan cocks his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as though he is pondering a riddle that defies even his wisdom. Arrogant, dramatic Dragon. He chuckles at my blank face.

Amusement fading, he gestures subtly toward a group of Fae milling around edge of the square, unaware of the eyes above them or of the ones hidden right underneath their very noses. Clinging to a facade of normality, forcing smiles and engaging in strained conversations as if everything were perfectly normal. If it werent for the pinched expressions and the air carrying a thick, undertone of pervasive fear it wouldalmostbe believeable. Yet, despite milenium of hiding behind trickery and masterfully constructed manipulations, their movements betray them; they are too quick, too deliberate, their bodies thrumming with a tension they can't hide no matter how hard.

"Look at them," he says, the corners of his mouth pulling into a half smile, his razor sharp teeth on display, a feral gleam flashing in his eyes before they snap closed. "The fear in the air is a buffet,"he takes a deep breath before continuing. "A part of me relishes this destruction, you know," he says softly with a shake of his head. Ruadhan's steady gaze meets mine, his eyes unfocused, distant as the memories of his people play through his head. He would appear to be as emotionless as usual to anyone else, but I've come to learn his every tell and for that, I am honored. Especially now. Because this mission brings him deep within the heart of the most sadistic of Fae--one who would bypass her very nature just for a taste of power.

I nod in understanding. While the Seelie have no quarrel with the Dragons, having not caused the suffering that plagued their people for so long, I can still see why their being mixed in with the Unseelie, even if that mix isn't by choice, would be enough to bring him even the slightest feeling of satisfaction. It would bring me immense joy, if I were in his shoes and I say as much.

He laughs quietly, "The point is. The fear, although understandable, isn't entirely natural. Despite the takeover being hostile, this Niceven hasn't been in power for long enough to have earnedthislevel of terror. The reports do not reflect torture beyond those who have resisted or have been caught fleeing to Kalen's rebel camp. No, whoever, orwhatever is at the helm of this takeover, is feeding this fear."

Ruadhan shakes his head. I stay silent for a moment, my eyes shifting to the less-than-adequate guards, whose eyes keep drifting away from the crowds and instead watch the sky as the morning begins to bleed into the afternoon, the sun heating the kingdom beneath. Yet, the brightness does nothing to quell the darkness that pervades every facet of what lies before me. Their shift change was approaching and with it, my opportunity to move forward. I had to make sure the timing is perfect, to ensure that the questions that followed would be asked of those who should have been more attentive to their duties, instead of leaving their posts just a few minutes early, as they typically did everyday. Sloppy as it is, it ensured my men's safety further.

"One would think it is almost a cruel joke of fate, a cosmic jest, this constant repeat of history, but even the Fae, who should be beyond such follies, are willful victims of the same plague," I say quietly, answering his initial question. "You and I both know that ignorance is not a trick of fate or even a curse; it is a chosen affliction. A virus that is welcomed with open arms. People suffer, die, and fight in the name of willful blindness, and though the aftermath is full of pain, it is a pain that soon fades. While the pain becomes a dull ache, the insidious virus is busy moving on to the next, only to come back again after the memories are simply tales."

He hums in agreement and, after a few moments, opens his mouth, but I hold up my hand to stop the question that he has repeated over and over for days after Gaia appeared within the veil of shadows to make her request. "If we had not become as close as kin, would you still ask me the question that you are, once again, letting yourself ask?"

He pauses, and sighs deeply, his eyes filling with pain so profound, that I wish nothing more than for us to leave and return to causing grievous injuries to one another, all for the name of a trophy we swap back and forth every few days. But Gaia was clear: a seer will have a vision, and I must prevent her prophecy from being shared in full. Just enough so as to not anger the fates, enough to set the wheels of destiny in motion, before I ensure her words are never uttered again.

It is said that once a prophecy is spoken, it weaves itself into the tendrils of time, becoming as permanent as the imprint of a life force upon this earth. Once uttered, it takes on a life of its own until the conditions are met, and the prophecy comes to fruition. Those who meddle with the force of prophecy may as well seek to fight a natural disaster. Only Gods, specifically Gaia, who create, can take away the power of creation. Unfortunately, gods have rules of their own for some ridiculous cosmic reason.

The Fae have always been told that those gifted with the sight are always to be protected and cherished as though they hold the most precious of all treasures within their arms because they do. It may be a treasure held by their soul instead of their arms, but the words that fall from a Seers' lips will change the very fabric of time. Those who wear the stain on their soul, brought upon them as the soul of a slain seer passes into the afterlife, will meet nothing but the same end. Their pain multiplied a hundred times over... even if the request came from a Goddess herself.

I barely resist the urge to sigh. It is unfortunate that my time of ruling has come to an end. The need for balance within Tir ag Nog, will never allow me to take the helm unless, by some miracle, I find my mate andshebecomes Queen, which isn't likely. All this time I have spent building an army and protecting my people, and I still fall prey to the hungry, destructive force that is the will of the gods. A complexity that I am not interested in dissecting or analyzing. Nothing useful is born from going around in circles...for the thousandth time. I have done all I could and will see it through.

Today, I willfully take the life of a Seer and thereby seal my fate.Fortunately, if one can consider it as such, I have never met the Seer of this time despite my many years. There was no need. But most importantly, despite fanciful tales, one does not approach a seer unbidden.

"No," Ruadhan admits, his features lightly etched with resentment. "I would not. I would be more likely to toss you into the Kingdom simply to watch you die. It would be a great source of entertainment," he chuckles mirthlessly.

My lips twitch, and I look away from his now-shuttered expression as he steels himself. I wish I could say I didn't understand, but after years of loneliness, self-inflicted or not, finding someone who is closer than a brother is a gift. Centuries of strengthening that bond? Well...

"Exactly. Neither one of us can ignore where our destiny leads. This is something I must do. Now, look for me within the Shadows. This is not goodbye. It is merely another challenge. Surely if I can best the great Dragon King, I can best death?" With a nod, I wrap shadows around my person and leap from the trees, the guards having left a few seconds prior. Ruadhan's hearty laughter follows me, and I ignore the twinge of pain as I mourn his loss. And my own.

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I findmyself frowning as I move through the subdued village; the Fae that once painted the very air with the melodies of song, locked away in their homes, windows tightly sealed, thick curtains drawn as if it the act alone will keep them protected. As if the cocoon of self-imposed isolation would make the grim reality more palatable. Day after day, my men are able to help the Seelie out of the Stolen Kingdom and into the rebel camp, but there is no help for those who do not seek it.

A breeze wafts through the air, tinged with the scent of suppressed despair and the sickly smell of once-sweet flowers now decaying in neglect. The gardens, which are normally bursting with life, color, and the tittering of dewdrop faeries and pixies, as they would dance through the petals and leaves, their connection keeping them alive, appear wan. It isn't surprising that, in this atmosphere of pervasive dread, the tiny guardians have fled. Still, their absence, one loudly felt not only in the withering flora left behind but in the deafening solemn silence that is somehow sharper now, serves as a painful reminder of why I have no choice today.

I shake my head as I move through the shadows, a warning bell of sorts telling me that my presence should be masked. From whom or what, it isn't clear, but Ruadhan is correct in his assessment. There is certainly an edge to the power within the kingdom that is not of this particular world but only just...and only if you are looking for it.

My eyes track the several Unseelie guards, most of whom are whispering nervously, their eyes flicking to the shadows, their grating voices carrying the information I needed to know. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, their plainly exposed fear marking them all as inept. Still, I keep them in sight; they may be useless as soldiers, but they were still ruthless fighters.

Not all soldiers are the Whisperers of legend, Brother.Ruadhan's chuckle reverberates through my head before he continues,the diversion is in place."I send a nonverbal nod as I steel myself, my hand on the hilt of my sword.

A shout sounds in the distance, and the Unseelie before me move as one, taking into the air and leaving the home that will seal my fate completely unprotected.Well, that works.I expand my senses, ensuring the area is clear before letting the shadows carry me closer to the home, carved within a large oak tree that radiates an ancient wisdom that the Unseelie haven't managed to tarnish. I grip the door handle, breathing in the scent of the verdant and fragrant herbs hanging from the eaves, and feel a jolt travel from my fingertips to my chest like an electric current as I twist the knob.

The feeling isn't unpleasant exactly, but more curious--a test of goodwill. Well, it certainly makes sense why the Unseelie had been outside versus inside the Seer's home--the door is imbued with the magic of the Gods, nothing and no one would be able to cross the threshold without the Seer's approval.

Seers are usually left alone no matter who is in power, the promise of pain so severe if they come to harm enough to deter anyone. Except those sent by Gaia, I think, wryly. This begs the question, why wasIallowed within their dwelling?

I step fully inside, letting the door close behind me.

"King Oberon, I have been awaiting your arrival for quite some time," a voice, melodious and compelling, fills the room.

I turn, but before I can respond, my eyes take on a life of their own, hungrily moving over the space as though what lies before them would disappear. It has been a long time since I have been within the Stolen Kingdom and felt or seen anything remotely resembling the beauty I had grown accustomed to in my long life--But this home feels completely untouched by the dread suffocating everything beyond its doors. The air is lighter here; sunlight filters through the sheer green curtains, which flutter from a light breeze, casting a glow upon every corner and piece of finely carved furniture.

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