A Tunnel Lined with Bone

As Malakor guided them through the fading heart of the Fey lands, palpable waves of irritation rolled off him. His foul mood was a tangible force, so potent that Blynn and Jianna maintained a respectful distance by some unspoken accord. The newest member of their party, however, seemed entirely oblivious to the demon’s mounting agitation—or, more accurately, to the fact that his own cheerful presence was the direct cause of it.

Initially, Flitterwing had been a constant, buzzing blur of motion, zipping ahead on his gossamer wings only to circle back, his words hovering on the edge of a complaint about the slow, plodding pace of his land-bound companions. A particularly vicious scowl from Malakor was enough to convince the hyperactive Feyan to resign himself to walking amongst them. Yet his newfound silence only served to redirect his boundless energy into a relentless barrage of questions, all aimed squarely at Malakor: where had they journeyed from, what business did they have in Kaur-Koram, and what was their ultimate purpose? Fearing what the demon might do if his notoriously thin patience finally snapped, Jianna began answering in his stead. After she had shared the little she knew, Flitterwing’s insatiable curiosity finally turned to her.

"What could the Council possibly want with you?" Flitterwing inquired, his head cocked to one side. "No offense, but aside from your peculiar attire, there doesn't appear to be anything particularly remarkable about you. Where are you from, anyway?"

A knot of apprehension tightened in Jianna’s stomach, and she found herself hedging. "Not from anywhere around here," she said vaguely. Her innately trusting nature had been badly shaken by the revelation that she was being hunted by a powerful witch. She was no longer certain whom she could safely confide in.

"She's from the Out-Realm," Blynn interjected, his voice a dry whisper that carried with perfect clarity in the stillness. "Malakor abducted her and dragged her here."

At the head of the small procession, Malakor let loose a low, guttural growl. It was an unmistakable warning that everyone pointedly ignored, their attention remaining fixed on the conversation.

"The Out-Realm?" Flitterwing repeated, his emerald eyes widening in pure astonishment. "Na? What is it like? Is it truly so different from here? The stories claim your people build towers of steel that scrape the very sky, and that you do it all without a whisper of magic! Is there any truth to that, Na?"

A genuine, unbidden smile illuminated Jianna’s face, and a pleasant warmth spread through her chest. Finally. Someone who wasn’t merely tolerating her presence, but who seemed genuinely fascinated by her world. "It’s very different," she affirmed, her voice animated. "By this point in a journey back home, we would have passed through a major city, not just a few small villages. And yes, we have buildings like that; we call them skyscrapers. There is no magic in the Out-Realm. We have no Satyri, no Demons, no Fey… nothing like that. Only humans live there."

If it were possible, Flitterwing’s eyes grew wider still. "No Fey?" he breathed.

"Nope."

"None at all?"

"Nada."

"{Kes...}" the Feyan uttered, the single word thick with disbelief.

Beside her, Blynn snorted. "Only humans? What a dreadfully boring place that must be."

"It's not that bad!" Jianna protested, a wave of defensiveness for her home washing over her. "It's not boring at all! We have shopping malls, and movies, and video games, and… well, sports! So many sports! And besides, we don't have to worry about Troggs or evil witches trying to kill us."

"Na, Jianna," Flitterwing replied, a playful smile touching his lips. "If I didn't know better, I would almost think you don't enjoy our world very much. Surely the In-Realm isn't so terrible?"

Reluctant to offend her new friend, Jianna hesitated. In truth, aside from the astounding variety of people, she hadn't enjoyed much of anything about this world. The relentless, exhausting march was wearing her down, and her supposed protector was a source of constant, simmering hostility. "Well… it isn't, not really," she conceded, "but Malakor isn't exactly giving me much of a chance to appreciate it."

Flitterwing cast a curious, sidelong glance at the demon's rigid back and nodded thoughtfully. He then shot forward, materializing at Malakor’s side in a silent flutter of wings. The demon jumped, startled, before glaring at the Feyan from the corner of his eye. "What d'ye want, Fey?" Malakor spat.

"Oh, I want for nothing. I was merely curious. Why do you show no interest in the Out-Realm? You had to have been there to collect Jianna, surely you didn't have such tunnel vision that you could ignore a discussion about it?"

Malakor's lips twisted into a grimace. "I was there only as long as it took to grab her. Dinnae have much chance to see anything, as you said. But… I knew someone, years ago. Someone born in the Out-Realm. He told me a great deal about it."

"You did?" Jianna spoke up, her heart giving a great leap as a sudden, desperate hope flared within her. The thought of speaking to someone who understood—someone who wouldn't think her a fool for her ignorance, who wouldn't mock her curiosity about the world’s races or her inability to conjure a simple fire—was intoxicating. A human, more worldly than anyone she had yet met. "Can we meet him? I would love to talk to him."

Malakor faltered in his stride. He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her, his single, large eye devoid of warmth. "Ye cain't," he stated flatly. "He'd be long dead by now."

"Oh." The fleeting euphoria drained away, leaving her feeling hollower than before. The chance for a normal conversation, vanished before it could even form.

An hour later, as the sky deepened to a bruised, violet shade, Malakor finally halted. He stared up at the emerging stars, his glare seeming to challenge them personally, and let out a heavy sigh. "We won't clear the Fey lands before dark," he announced to the group. "Might as well make camp 'ere for the night."

Flitterwing tapped his chin in thought. "You know, there's an abandoned burrow about a ten-minute walk from here. We could shelter there. That way," he added, a sly smile and a wicked twinkle in his eye, "Malakor won't faint from terror if a cricket happens to land on him in his sleep."

Blynn let out a sniggering laugh, earning him one of the death-glares Malakor was now directing at the Feyan. "You should have seen him earlier, Flitterwing. Jumping at every rustle, trembling like a leaf, absolutely convinced a Feya was coming back to claim him."

At that, they broke into howls of laughter—or rather, Blynn chuckled deeply while Flitterwing howled. Malakor's back went rigid, his arms folding tightly across his chest in a posture of pure rage and humiliation. A bubble of laughter rose in Jianna’s own throat, but it died the moment she saw the look on Malakor's face. It was a raw, intense mixture of shame for his past fear and a burning anger at himself for feeling it at all. With every peal of their laughter, she could practically feel his loathing for the Feyan intensify.

Wanting to defuse the situation before it could ignite—and noting the two slender swords strapped to Flitterwing's waist, which seemed a significant advantage over Malakor's single knife—she stepped forward and patted the Feyan on the shoulder. "So, where is this burrow? I think I'm ready to drop." To emphasize her point, she rubbed a hand across her forehead and sagged dramatically.

"Don't you worry," Flitterwing said, still chuckling. The image of the formidable demon being terrified of his kind was simply too amusing to let go. "It's right over this way." He took the lead, veering off to their right from their previous path.

As they fell into line behind him, Jianna and Malakor brought up the rear. She nudged the sullen demon’s arm. When he glanced down at her, she offered him a small, conspiratorial smile. "I don't think you were scared," she whispered. "You were just being cautious. Right?"