43. Danica

Danica

43

T he invitation to remain throws me for a loop—unexpected yet a reprieve that feels like a gulp of fresh air—having a moment to breathe, to prep, and to steel our nerves before taking on theCrystal Peaks? That's a slice of heaven we'd be fools to shoo away.

ShootingRhylanda glance, I see that telltale arch of his brow, his silent way of saying, 'Yep, we're totally on the same page, babe.' He's got that 'let's milk this for all it's worth' glint in his eye, and frankly, I'm right there with him, ready to squeeze every last drop of advantage out of this little pit stop.

"Your hospitality is appreciated," I say, offering Queen Titania and King Oberon a smile that's equal parts charm and cheek. "We accept," I add, hoping my voice doesn't betray the jitters playing xylophone on my ribs. Because let's be real, this is the Fae court we're talking about—one wrong move, and we could end up as garden gnomes in the royal hedge maze.

With the royal affirmation, the deal is done, and we're whisked away to a cozy little chamber that's like a nook tucked inside a treasure chest. The air is thick with excitement and nervous energy like we're standing at the edge of something colossal—or at least something that could turn us into toadstools if we're not careful.

Our motley crew circles the table, a heady mix of personalities and power, each bringing their own flavor to this pre-quest banquet. It's like the world's weirdest dinner party, with vampires, Fae, and one slightly overwhelmed human all rubbing elbows and trying not to step on any metaphorical toes.

I kick back in my chair, looking as comfy as possible while sizing up the room with a discerning eye. This chamber has a more intimate vibe than the throne room, but it doesn't skimp on the wow factor, with little orbs of light hovering and dipping like a school of glowing sea creatures. It's like being inside a lava lamp if Tim Burton designed lava lamps on acid.

And then there's the table at the heart of the room—Mother Nature's masterpiece of twisty-turny wood, with a tapestry of leaves and vines that could make the finest artist green with envy. It's like something out of a fairy tale, if fairy tales involved high-stakes diplomacy and the fate of the realms hanging in the balance.

Axilyaslips into the chair beside me, all regal grace and quiet intensity. There's a grounding vibe about her—a stillness amidst the storm that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, we might actually pull this off without getting killed.

She flicks a regal nod at the royals, no words needed to convey the depth of meaning in that simple gesture. And then there's the secret eyelash flutters, the subtle quirks of the lips that speak volumes without a single syllable uttered. It's like watching a soap opera without subtitles, trying to decipher the hidden messages and unspoken alliances that swirl beneath the surface.

What's the story here? My mind races with possibilities and potential pitfalls. Because in this game of thrones, knowledge is power—and I'll take every scrap of intel I can get my hands on.

"So,"Luciandrawls, his posture relaxed, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Any takers willing to spill the tea on the big, bad boogeyman lurking beyond those picturesque peaks? I promise I won't even charge for the therapy session afterward."

King Oberon leans forward, hands clasped before him. "TheCrystal Peaksare not just treacherous because of sheer cliffs and unpredictable weather," he begins, his authoritative voice demanding attention. "They are steeped in deep magic—ancient and untamed."

Queen Titania's piercing gaze locks onto mine, touching my essence beyond the surface. "There are sentinels within those mountains," she continues. "Entities from the darkest dreams, stationed to ward off trespassers."

Erikshifts, eyes narrowing—his warrior's mind assessing threats.

"Sentinels?" I echo, unease prickling my spine.

Faderyn's solemn declaration about the creatures protecting something beyond justunicornsmakes my eyebrow arch. It's like trying to digest a boulder-sized chunk of information without any water.

And speaking of hard-to-swallow things, I can feel my cheeks flush at the memory of catching a glimpse ofFaderyn's, ahem , assets last night.

Of course, Mr. All-KnowingRhylandhas my number, his hand gliding up my thigh with sly confidence and giving me a delicious squeeze. Oh, he knows exactly what I'm thinking, the smug bastard. But two can play at that game, and I shoot him a look that promises all sorts of wicked retribution later.

Clearing my throat, I try to steer the conversation back on track. "Well, I guess that settles it. The stone's tucked away in there," I quip, probably crossing the line of casual banter considering the high-caliber company. But come on, mythical creatures deserve an edge, and if we can't crack a few jokes about their super-secret hideout, what's the point of being The Chosen One?

Axilya's lips curve slightly before she responds, her voice low and mysterious. "Perhaps the true nature remains hidden. Those who have ventured forth have never returned to tell their stories—it is said to be a wellspring of life itself."

My mind reels at that bombshell. Not just the stone? What could they be protecting? A magic mushroom patch?

I glance atRhyland, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The poor guy looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel trying to understand all this mystical mumbo-jumbo.

"A source of life? That sounds heavy," he mutters before raising his voice. "What are we talking about here? A fountain of youth? A genie in a bottle?"

The Light King's eyes flicker with amusement. "Not youth," he corrects. "Balance."

And just like that, my curiosity is piqued. Balance—what we've been seeking all along—between realms, between light and shadow.

"And these sentinels,"Lucianinterjects casually, "they just stand around scaring tourists? Sounds like a boring gig."

"Not tourists,"Faderynreplies with a faint smile. "But formidable guardians deterring any seeking to disrupt the equilibrium."

Queen Titania's expression turns grave. "Whispers suggest even time itself may warp and twist within those mountains."

I feel a shiver run down my spine at her words. Time warping and twisting? That's some Doctor Who level shit right there. And if there's one thing I've learned from binge-watching sci-fi shows, it's that messing with the space-time continuum never ends well.

But then, I'm not just a baseline human anymore. I might have a card up my sleeve, my supernatural abilities including a nifty little time-warp trick. If this place bends time, I may bend it right back.

Erik's voice resonates with certainty. "We will need more than blades and bravado," he declares.

Rhylandleans forward, fixing the royals with a stare that could freeze lava. "So, how do we get past these nightmares?" he demands.

The Light Kingbriefly regards Rhyland before responding."Cunning and purity of intent," he intones like he's reciting a fortune cookie.

"Great,"Lucianmutters, rolling his eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of his head. "We're screwed then."

The tension breaks, giving way to chuckles and snickers. TrustLucianto slice through the somber mood with his wit.

Faderynglances atAxilya, then turns back to us, his expression thoughtful. "There may be paths within the mountain that could lead us through rather than over."

"But such paths come with dangers,"Axilyawarns.

"Dangers?" I prompt. What haven't we faced at this point? Vampires, shadow beasts, ogres, creepy-crawly—just another day at the office.

Axilyahesitates. "There are tales," she begins, her voice like a ghost story around a campfire, "of creatures even the Fae whisper about—Whisperlings."

Rhyland's hand tightens around mine—my thoughts immediately reflect back to Meadow's warning—Whispers.

Lucianleans closer, his trademark smirk fading into a look of genuine curiosity. "Whisperlings?" he repeats like he's trying the word out for size. "Sounds like something out of a fairytale, the kind of creature parents use to scare their kids into bed at night."

Axilyanods solemnly. "Indeed, they are the stuff of legends, creatures born of silence and secrecy. They weave illusions so convincing you could wander lost for eternity in their maze of whispers."

The table falls silent as we consider this new challenge.Faderynspeaks softly, with respect. "To face a Whisperling is to confront one's inner turmoil," he says. "They mirror our buried fears and doubts."

Lucianpipes up, recognition dawning in his tone. "That's got 'Morty's mojo' written all over it," he quips, referring to our old nemesisMoretemis. "Sounds like the kind of mind-fuck he'd get off on."

King Oberon interjects. "Runes safeguard our domain, barriers against malicious intent. Beyond these grounds, you embark on a journey relying solely on your own resources. Only those undimmed by deceit and untainted by malevolence may hope to pass unscathed."

A shiver runs down my spine. To confront the darkness within ourselves? That's a whole different kind of challenge.

I glance around the table.Rhyland's jaw is set in a grim line.Erik's hand rests on his sword.Lucian's smirk has faded. AndFaderynlooks like he's already steeling himself for the trials ahead.

Axilyameets my gaze, her eyes understanding. We're not just facing a physical journey. We're embarking on a quest to confront our deepest fears and darkest secrets.

Seraphina's caution reverberates, reminding we all have shadows to wrestle with, even Rhyland.

"But there is hope," Queen Titania adds softly, her voice as gentle as a summer breeze. "The Whisperlings are not malevolent. If you are steadfast and true, they will allow you passage."

Lucianraises an eyebrow, his expression as skeptical as a cat eyeing a bath. "So we just need to be honest?" he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, that's easy. I do that every day in the mirror."

His bravado draws an exaggerated snort and eye roll from me because who is he trying to kid? We all knowLucian's relationship with the truth is about as straightforward as a corkscrew.

"Perhaps,"Axilyasays, her tone amused but also slightly chiding. "But these creatures will delve deeper than vanity or self-assuredness. They will see into the very heart of who you are."

I feelRhyland's questioning gaze on me, his eyes boring into the side of my head like a laser beam. I know what he's thinking because it's the same thing that's been on my mind since the Whisperlings were first mentioned.

I inhale deeply, seeking assurance from Rhyland. "We all have shadows," I murmur. But we're here to save our realms."

"And yet,"Faderynadds, "even noble intentions can be clouded by fear or doubt. You need clarity of self."

The room falls into contemplation. Facing our deepest fears is a daunting prospect. But if that's what it takes to save the realms, we'll do it.

"Is there any way to prepare for a Whisperling?"Erikasks.

Axilyaconsiders. "Ignore them," she says simply.

Rhyland's thumb brushes mine, a silent vow that we'll face this together.

King Oberon rises. "We will offer guidance. Let us break and reconvene."

I ponder what he might offer to help us.

"But know this: The journey will test you in ways you cannot fathom," Oberon warns.

Servants enter with trays of refreshments, signaling the end of our meeting. We stand, an eclectic mix bound by a common goal. The Fae nobility bows respectfully as we take our leave, a sign of the gravity of the task that lies ahead.

Outside the chamber,Rhylandpulls me into an alcove shadowed by prying eyes. His piercing blue eyes hold a direct challenge as he leans in close, his breath hot against my skin. "You sure you're up for this?" he rumbles, demanding my certainty.

His eyes search mine, seeking the solidity of my resolve. In return, I offer him a steadfast stare, ensuring no hint of uncertainty shows in my gaze. "I'm ready," I state firmly, my voice imbued with a conviction that I can only hope is more than just bravado. It's a silent mantra, a way to steel my nerves against the trials that lie ahead.

Rhylandnods once, a gesture of acceptance and understanding, before pulling me into an embrace. His arms are like a fortress around me, a shield against whatever fears lurk in my mind's shadows.

Lucianclaps dramatically, the king of sass, even in the face of looming danger. "Alrighty then," he declares, a grin plastered on his face. "Time to go have a lovely little chat with some ancient, uptight, mythological assholes. I'm sure they'll be absolutely thrilled to see us."

He rubs his hands together in mock anticipation, eyebrows waggling. "Think they'll offer us some tea and crumpets while we swap war stories?"

Eriksteps forward, his gravity anchoring his words. "We take repose tonight," he says, his voice as steady as a mountain. "At dawn, we embark on those mountains."