The path south wound through the edge of the Enchanted Forest — a realm whispered about in ancient songs, where moonlight touched the leaves like silver fire, and the air shimmered with old magic.
Sylvia and Kael moved cautiously beneath the towering canopy. Trees stretched high, their bark streaked with runes that pulsed faintly, alive with their own rhythm. The ground glowed softly with clusters of bioluminescent mushrooms, lighting their path in blues and purples.
"It's beautiful," Sylvia murmured. "Like it's alive."
"It is alive," Kael said quietly, scanning the shadows. "And not all of it friendly. Stay close."
The deeper they went, the thicker the mist grew, curling around their ankles like ghostly fingers. Then the air changed. The sweetness vanished, replaced by the metallic tang of blood.
Sylvia froze. "Do you smell that?"
Kael nodded grimly. "Something's wrong."
They pushed through the last of the undergrowth, and the forest opened into a clearing—silent, still, and painted in devastation.
The fairy village sprawled across the clearing, human-sized and once bustling with life. Crystal homes and flower-petal towers had been crushed, their frames splintered into sharp shards. The air hung heavy with the scent of burnt sap and iron. Fallen fairies lay scattered across the soil, wings torn and shimmer dulled, motionless and bloody. The light that should have danced here had died.
Sylvia's breath caught in her throat. "No…"
At the center of the destruction, beneath a broken arch of silverwood, lay a figure — tall and graceful, her golden hair matted with blood, her human-sized wings shredded and dulled to gray.
Sylvia dropped to her knees beside her. "She's alive!"
The fairy queen's eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes like fractured amethyst. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Who… are you?"
"I'm Sylvia," she said softly. "We came seeking the Fairy Queen — Queen Lyrielle. Please tell me you're her."
The fairy's lips trembled into the faintest of smiles. "Lyrielle," she breathed. "Yes."
Kael crouched beside them, his jaw set. "What happened here?"
Lyrielle's gaze drifted to the ruins around her. "He came… the Redcap."
Sylvia frowned. "The Redcap?"
Kael's expression darkened. "A goblin of blood and ruin. He bathes his cap in the blood of his kills. Old stories say he hunts in ruined castles, and he enjoys terrorizing villages. But these are not stories…"
Lyrielle shook her head weakly. "No story. He was real. Anastasia sent him. He came with fire and iron. My guards… my people…" Her voice broke. "He cut them down, one by one. I barely escaped."
Sylvia's flame stirred beneath her skin, responding to her rage. "Anastasia did this."
Lyrielle's hand trembled as she reached up, gripping Sylvia's arm. "She seeks to destroy every alliance before it can form. The Arcanes. The fairies. The elves. She knows you're gathering them."
"How does she know?" Kael asked sharply.
Lyrielle's eyes dimmed. "The Redcap carries her mark — a shard of shadow bound in his chest. He sees through it, and so does she."
Sylvia's heart pounded. "Then she's watching us even now."
Lyrielle winced, her breathing shallow. "No… not anymore. I destroyed the shard before he could finish me. But my village…" Her voice faltered, eyes glassy. "They're gone."
For a long moment, only the wind spoke — carrying the soft chiming of broken bells and shattered crystal homes.
Sylvia knelt beside the queen, her voice trembling but steady. "Then help me stop her. Help me end this. For your people."
Lyrielle looked at her for a long time, as though peering into her soul. Then she gave a small, painful nod. "I will join you, Sylvia of the Arcanes. My strength is yours. And what remains of my people will follow."
Kael helped her to her feet, careful not to touch her broken wings. "We need to move. If the Redcap still hunts, he'll return to finish the job."
Sylvia turned once more toward the ruined village. "Then let's make sure he doesn't find anyone left to kill."
The three of them disappeared into the fog, the faint glow of Lyrielle's magic glowing between them like a fragile star.
Behind them, deep in the shadows of the forest, a figure dragged a jagged axe, humming a tune low and cruel. A red cap gleamed faintly in the darkness, slick with the blood of his last hunt.