Before the Four Thrones

Jianna risked a backward glance, seeking to measure Malakor's response to the veiled insult. She had braced herself for one of his signature outbursts, knowing his fragile mental state. To her surprise, Malakor seemed entirely oblivious; he had wrapped his arms tightly around his torso as if to physically hold his fracturing self together, his head bowed in defeat. The abrupt shift in his demeanor puzzled her. This cowering figure was a stark departure from the abrasive, self-assured monster she had grown accustomed to. Her concern for her friend had been so all-consuming that the full weight of Aria's words had not yet landed. If it had, she might have questioned the very need for an armed escort, or the far more pressing matter of her presence here at all.

"I must offer my apologies for what is about to unfold," Aria continued, her tone somber and her expression grave. "I am certain you care little for the troubles of our small world and wish only for a swift return to your own. I assure you, we would have greatly preferred you never set foot here. Yet, some events, once set in motion, are inescapable."

"What?" Jianna asked, her brow furrowed in confusion as she struggled to decipher the Satyress's cryptic pronouncements. "What are you talking about? What things?"

"All will be made clear," was Aria's only reply.

With a resigned sigh, Jianna accepted the non-answer. If Aria intended to elaborate later, then she would simply have to be patient.

Their journey concluded at the end of the long corridor, where they stopped before a pair of immense, closed doors. At a gesture from Aria, the two sentinels standing guard swung the heavy portals open, admitting them into the Council chamber.

The room itself was a vast, circular expanse crowned by a high, domed ceiling. Despite the rich tapestries that adorned the walls and the press of people awaiting an audience, the sound of their footfalls echoed unnervingly, bouncing around the cavernous space before fading into nothingness.

Aria instructed them to remain by the entrance until they were summoned. As they lingered, a palpable tension settled over the group, and everyone, save for a conspicuously still Malakor, shifted with unease.

It was Flitterwing who finally broke the quiet, his voice a low murmur just barely audible above the din of distant conversations. "So," he began, "Blynn, you're acquainted with Aria?"

Blynn responded with a single, sharp nod. "Since the dawn of time. She was of my clan." Both Flitterwing and Jianna attempted to coax more information from him, but Blynn remained resolutely silent on the matter.

Aria advanced toward the far end of the chamber, where the Council members were seated upon a raised dais. After a brief, quiet exchange with them, the councilors turned their inscrutable gazes toward the doorway. One of them rose to his feet.

"We thank you all for your patience," he announced, his voice carrying effortlessly throughout the hall. "However, this session must be postponed until later today. I apologize for the disruption, but a matter of great urgency has come to our attention."

Murmurs of discontent and frustrated complaints rippled through the crowd, but the waiting petitioners began to file out of the chamber, many casting resentful glares at Jianna and her companions as they passed.

Once the last person had exited and the doors were securely shut behind them, Jianna, Blynn, Flitterwing, and Malakor stepped forward, approaching the dais.

As they halted a few paces away, they all dipped their heads in a gesture of respect, but Malakor stunned them by dropping to one knee upon the floor, his head bowed so low it seemed an act of prayer.

"Jianna, Flitterwing, and Blynn," Aria stated, standing beside the seated Council members. "Permit me to present the Council of Kaur-Koram." She indicated each member in turn, starting from the far left. "Queen Dawnstrider, sovereign of all Feykind." At the leftmost end, a Feya of regal bearing inclined her head. Her earth-toned hair was styled in a manner both elegant and functional. The wings at her back, patterned with intricate hues and highlights that mirrored the deep brown of her attire, seemed only to enhance her natural grace. Jianna found it hard to believe that Dawnstrider could be as ancient as Flitterwing had claimed.

"Lord Pherrus of the Satyri," Aria continued. To Dawnstrider's right, an older male with formidable, curled horns like a ram’s offered them a gentle smile. As was reportedly the custom for Satyri, he was shirtless, revealing a broad, powerfully muscled chest. He stroked a well-kept beard that descended nearly to his collarbone, his eyes appraising them with a measuring look.

"King Kyron of the Humans." Though several years Pherrus's junior, Kyron already had streaks of silver in his dark hair and short-cropped beard. He was clad in robes of deep crimson over a black tunic embroidered with gold thread. His expression was stern and austere—the very picture of a man one would want to keep as an ally.

"And lastly, Queen Lyraxis of the Demons." Of the entire council, Lyraxis was the most alien in appearance. Her body was covered in emerald-green scales that shimmered in the mixed light of candles and day. Matching green hair was pulled back tightly from a smooth, flat skull, revealing inky black, pupilless eyes. She wore black garments that clung to her torso like a second skin, while the lower half of her form remained hidden by the massive table before them. As she regarded them with suspicion, a forked tongue darted from between full lips, tasting the air before retracting just as quickly.

"And I," Aria concluded, "am the Seer for this Council." With that, she took a seat slightly to the side of the main table.

"You are late, Malakor," Queen Lyraxis's voice was a low, rasping sound.

"My apologies, my Queen," Malakor murmured, his voice muffled by his bowed posture. "We encountered difficulties on the journey."

"He would have trouble with such a straightforward task," Queen Dawnstrider scoffed. "We could have dispatched my own Feya to retrieve the girl, but no, you all insisted upon Malakor."

"We did ask if you would be willing to lend us your people," King Kyron stated, his tone calm and level. "You refused. Do you not remember?"

Dawnstrider offered a faint, dismissive shrug. "Perhaps. I still maintain her arrival would have been swifter had we chosen someone more… competent. More dependable."

Leaning forward on his powerful arms, Lord Pherrus interjected. "Malakor, what was the nature of this trouble you faced?"

"Troggs, initially, my Lord," Malakor reported. "And then we had several encounters with Aelvin."

"What are you saying? You fought Aelvin?" Dawnstrider's composure finally cracked as she snapped the questions. "How far out were you when you last fought them? How many were there?"

"Aelvin, as in the short creatures with the blotchy skin," Malakor clarified. His tone remained deferential, yet a sharp edge had crept into it. "Our last engagement was at the very edge of the Kaur-Koram forest. The first group numbered a dozen, perhaps. The last, maybe five."

"They grow bolder," Dawnstrider whispered, her brow furrowed in thought. "If what he says is true, Zovira is growing arrogant. Or stronger."

"What do you mean, 'if' what he says is true?" Lyraxis snarled at the Feyan queen from across the table. "For what reason would he lie about such a thing?"

"He has shown himself to be unreliable in the past," Pherrus chimed in, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "It is the very reason he stands before us now."

"He's telling the truth!" Jianna burst out. Her cheeks immediately flushed crimson as the entire room fell silent to stare at her. "He's telling the truth," she repeated, her voice much softer this time. "We were attacked by Aelvin several times, and Malakor and the others kept me safe. I… I don’t know how to fight. They saved my life." Her gaze swept from Flitterwing to Blynn, who flanked her like sentinels, and finally to the still-kneeling form of Malakor. The depth of her debt to these three struck her with sudden, acute clarity. She had to find some way to repay them. Somehow.

"If he is indeed truthful," King Kyron said grimly, "then our need to act grows more desperate with each passing day."

"My lord," Flitterwing ventured, taking a tentative step forward. "What is it you mean?"

Kyron drew a deep breath before he answered. "We have received intelligence that Lady Zovira has raised an army. While we have known of this for some time, she is gathering more of the Grey Factions to her banner than we had anticipated. Her forces are growing, and she has already begun making incursions into our lands."

"Three Fey clans have already been lost to her armies," Dawnstrider added, her voice laced with sorrow. "What few survivors there were made their way here, to Kaur-Koram, to bring us the news, to be healed… or to die."

Flitterwing's breath hitched in a short, sharp gasp. "Which clans have fallen?" he asked, his voice hollow.

"The Brightleaf Clan, the Clearwater Clan, and the Rimwood Clan," Dawnstrider recited, ticking them off on a slender thumb.

"You may add another to that tally, my Queen," Flitterwing stated, his tone dead and flat. "The Mirage Plains Clan is no more."

"Survivors?" The question came out as a weary sigh from Dawnstrider, as if she were old and tired of asking it.

"Only myself, as far as I am aware," Flitterwing replied.

Jianna stared, horrified. She had sensed for days that something was deeply wrong with the Feyan, but she could never have imagined a tragedy of this magnitude. His entire clan—gone. Annihilated. She placed a comforting hand on his arm, a small gesture trying to convey the enormity of her sympathy for him. He offered her a brief, pained smile in thanks.

Being neither Fey nor having ever experienced a communal life that remotely resembled it, she could never truly grasp the crushing weight of Flitterwing's loss. A clan was a single, sprawling, intricate family. He had not merely known his clanswomen; due to the unique breeding customs of the Fey, every person of his generation was, in a sense, a half-sibling. Every elder was an aunt, save for his own mother. It was from these same friends and sisters that future loves would blossom. Every child was a child of the entire clan, raised by all, forging bonds far deeper than those in any human society. To feel what Flitterwing now felt would be akin to having every relative a person has—parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins—all violently and suddenly ripped away, leaving a single soul to bear the weight of all their memories.

"Our numbers dwindle so swiftly," Dawnstrider sighed, her regal composure cracking.

"And smaller still shall those numbers shrink," came a voice from behind the Council. All eyes turned to Aria, who had delivered her ominous prediction from her seat.

"As you say," Dawnstrider murmured, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "As you say."

A profound, anxious silence descended upon the room. It was shattered when Lord Pherrus slammed his fist on the table. "I cannot abide this!" he roared, his face a mask of exasperation. "That our final hope rests with a human child, a slave, a Feyan with no clan to his name, and a thrice-damned Returned! I pray to the gods that your foresight has failed you this time, Aria!"

"Your… final hope?" Jianna repeated after a moment, the words tasting strange on her tongue. "What are you talking about?"

"Child… what name have you assumed for the In-Realm?" Aria asked, rising gracefully from her chair.

"Um… Florian," Jianna replied.

Aria nodded, a faint, sad smile touching her lips. "Florian, then. It is fitting. Florian, there is something I must tell you, something I suspect has not been mentioned before. The In-Realm and the Out-Realm are intrinsically connected through their inhabitants. For every soul in the In-Realm, there exists a double in the Out-Realm. Of course, since only humans populate the Out-Realm, the doubles of demons, Fey, and others are also human. Though their appearances are strikingly similar, they also possess the exact same measure of latent magical power. Their personalities, however, can differ greatly, as one’s upbringing, as you well know, has a profound influence on the mind."

She paused, allowing her words to sink in, her luminous eyes fixed on Jianna.

"Well, during a meditation some time ago, I was granted a vision. A premonition. I saw an alliance of the Light Races, represented here by this council. I saw that alliance bring about the defeat of Lady Zovira, the greatest threat our world has ever known. And leading that alliance was Lady Zovira’s Out-Realm counterpart."

As Aria’s gaze locked with Jianna’s, the universe itself seemed to shrink to a single, terrifying point.

"You, Florian, are the double of Lady Zovira."