11

Mor Trisencor and How it All Began in the Shadows, Part 1

Mor was no longer a childling when the Shadow Army reached Windswiple, the northernmost fairy city on the cusp of the Dark Corner, where sunlight filtered in and chased the ever-clouds away. The army always washed in like a black flood, taking over homes for beds when they grew tired, robbing the villagers of their milk beasts when they were thirsty, and at times, stealing the villagers’ hard-earned coin.

No one seemed to wonder what it was, exactly, that the Shadow Army was protecting. It certainly wasn’t the citizen fairies of the Dark Corner.

But Mor never asked questions. He never said much of anything, to his army comrades’ discontent. When he turned thirteen years of age, he stayed silent for over a full faeborn year. At first, his fellow Shadow Fairies tried to get him to speak by means of prodding, poking, and trickery. But they grew silent when Mor volunteered for combat training that year and brutally and violently defeated them in the training rings. No one seemed bothered by Mor’s silence after that.

The day he broke his silence was the same day the Shadow Army entered Windswiple. Mor was exactly fourteen and twenty-three days old.

The trees were different in Windswiple. They were greener, livelier, lush. They bore giant fruits unheard of in the rest of the Dark Corner due to the great toiling cloud—a cloud the Queene of North Corner had cursed to remain over the land of the Shadow Fairies for their insubordination. Harvests were difficult in the shadows. But the toiling cloud didn’t reach the vibrant city of Windswiple on the outskirts of the Corner.

The Shadow Army came for supplies in waves. Mor’s division came in the second wave, so the humble city streets should have been mostly empty. But when Mor entered on the back of a crossbeast that morning, followed by the army folk his own commander had entrusted him with, he saw a fairy childling squirming in the tight grip of a ruby-haired war fae. It wasn’t the first time Mor had witnessed such scenes. He often looked away, swallowed his words, and let the memory slip from his mind into another place afterward.

But perhaps… perhaps that day, while seeing the sunlight for the first time in several years, Mor felt he’d had enough.

Mor slowed his crossbeast to a stop, bringing the lesser fairies under his command to a halt. His glistening, iridescent, black pearl armour clapped together at his shoulders as he slid off his beast. Truly, Mor never even knew there were rainbows in his armour until he saw it in the light for the first time that day.

“State your real name, Fairy. So that I might return to you the torment you’ve given this childling. Unless you’re a faeborn coward.”

His first words. In over a year.

Mor did not look back at his lesser fairies even though he heard one or two of them gasp.

The ruby-haired war fae in the street slowed his wrangling. He didn’t remove his pale-skinned grip from the childling boy’s arm, however. Rather, he turned to face Mor, and Mor gazed upon a folk who was just as tall as him, and possibly even more shapely in his muscled frame. The fairy’s sharp, pointed ears twitched as though he wondered if he’d heard Mor correctly. And when he smiled…

Queensbane, when he smiled.

The darkness of midnight and a glisten of the moon were in that evil smile.

Mor felt a ripple of fear move through the lesser fairies at his back. Even the crossbeasts groaned and shuffled as the wind picked up and the air turned cold. The childling boy stifled a wail and dropped a handful of ripe sugar blossom seeds to the dusty path where the mud instantly swallowed them. Pink sugar buds sprouted at the childling’s feet. He stared down at the fresh flowers in dismay.

The ruby-haired fairy seemed uninterested in the sugar blossoms now.

“Don’t you know who I am, fool?” he asked Mor. The tone of the fairy’s voice told Mor he had missed something important. It was a tone that weaved a tale of a certain authority Mor had not picked up on during his approach. A master, maybe? A High Lord? No, the fairy wore the same black pearl armour as he. A golden necklace rested at his throat with exactly nine scarlet, feather-like tails with pure white tips. As Mor studied the clues, the fairy released his grip on the childling. The boy raced off on his tiny faeborn feet, dropping his spare sugar blossom seeds the whole way.

It was only then that Mor spotted the twisted threads around the Shadow Fairy’s wrist—crimson in colour and woven into a four-strand braid. Heaviness sank through Mor’s stomach. Yet, when he lifted his gaze to the fairy and saw not even a speck of remorse, his jaw hardened.

“I don’t care who you are. I’m detaining you in accordance with the Shadow Army’s fairy law.” Mor’s hand was around the fairy’s wrist in a heartbeat. He yanked an enchanted vine from his pocket and slapped it on—first on the ruby-haired fairy’s wrist, and then on his own, tethering them by flesh, blood, and body, until whenever he might decide to break the vine by his own teeth.

The Shadow Fairy’s wicked smile melted. “You’re doomed, you fool.”

“And you’re going to face the wrath of the commanders for harming a childling,” Mor promised.

“If you look at that childling—” the Shadow Fairy pointed in the direction the boy had run with his seeds “—you will see he is unmarked, apart from a few scrapes he gave himself while fighting me. I simply wanted his sugar seeds to present as a gift to my father.” He angled his head like a crossbeast. “I suppose you don’t know who my father is?”

“I imagine he’s one of the faeborn army commanders based on your wristlet. Let’s go.”

Mor tugged the fairy who followed without objection.

They rode through the city on Mor’s crossbeast, wrists bound together. The Shadow Fairy made no comments on the trek to the temporary Shadow Army base in the woods, though, even his silence told a story. Howlings chirped at the group of fae as they rode beneath the black branches and pushed through silver shrubs. Even the lesser fairies who followed at Mor’s back were silent—likely afraid for their faeborn lives simply because they’d been in Mor’s company when he’d arrested a commander’s son.

The scent of crisping hog meat wafted through the trees as they reached the tall cooking fires. Mor slid off his beast and the ruby-haired fairy followed in what seemed like mock respect. “You’ll die today,” the fairy said as they rounded the path and approached the circle of stick thrones erected for the high leaders of the Shadow Army. Mor had never entered their circle before. He’d never had a reason to.

The leaders—commanders and strategists and even a low prince of the Dark Corner—were still filing into their seats for the evening meeting when Mor entered the circle, without permission and without being announced. If the most powerful of the Shadow Army didn’t know Mor’s face up until this day, they would know it now.

“I beg an audience,” Mor stated simply, drawing the brown and silver eyes of his own commander up in surprise. His commander had never heard Mor’s voice. He had disregarded Mor as a mute fool after several months of unanswered questions.

“What in the name of the sky deities are you—”

“The High Prince has arrived,” a fairy announced, making the commanders close their mouths.

When High Prince Reval entered the circle by a graceful sweep of his white and red robes, his aged gaze settled on Mor first. Then on the Shadow Fairy at Mor’s side. He glided to his seat, his long crimson hair brushing over his shoulders in a chilly wind. And Mor’s eyes slid closed in disbelief as he realized exactly who this was, and who the fairy beside him must have been.

“What brings you before the inner circle, Son? Did you manage to capture a childling with sugar blossom seeds for me like I asked?” The High Prince lowered onto his twig throne, and the enchanted vine wrapping Mor’s wrist grew hot.

The Shadow Fairy at Mor’s side stepped forward and performed a shallow bow toward the High Prince. “Nearly, Father. But this fairy stopped me.” He nodded toward Mor, and the stare of every eye around the circle warmed Mor’s skin as much as the vine.

Mor took in the High Prince, heir to the throne of the Dark Corner of Ever. The most powerful and rumoured to be the most wicked of souls. The one who owned the Shadow Army, who held them in their place under his royal thumb.

Mor saw the choices before him and for a moment, he considered releasing the Shadow Fairy and begging for mercy. But the eyes of the High Prince were just as darkly unapologetic as his son’s, and for that, Mor found he could not let it go.

“I detained him for harassing a childling in the open street.” Though Mor’s voice was naturally softer and quieter than most, he stated it clean and clear. “It’s a crime to harm a childling, regardless of where the order came from.” His tongue felt heavy. He knew he might lose it soon. “I was ashamed travelling the streets today beneath the eyes of the sky deities. Ashamed to wear the same colour of armour as this fairy.” He jabbed his thumb toward the Shadow Fairy. “Ashamed to be riding among the cruel hearts of this army. I cannot lie about that.”

There were no gasps. The commanders knew better. But there were glares. Fingers tightened on twig armrests, and Mor’s own commander leaned forward with a promise of forthcoming torture in his eyes.

High Prince Reval rose from his twig throne. He drifted over the grass that shivered in his wake. When he reached Mor, he looked down upon him intently. “Those feelings you have,” he said, “they will bring pain and death to your door if you cannot get them under control.”

“Kill him, Father,” the Shadow Fairy said. “Do it terribly.”

When the High Prince’s aged face warped into a smile, it was just as beautifully alluring and dangerously broad as his son’s. “What faeborn justice that would be,” he said in a dark, musical voice.

His hand lashed out and grabbed for a fairy throat—but it was not Mor’s. Mor nearly jumped as the High Prince dug his black nails into his son’s neck. Cold power and strength made the air shudder as he lifted the ruby-haired Shadow Fairy off his feet, tugging the vine at Mor’s wrist.

“I was very specific when I told you to snatch a childling in secret,” the High Prince said. “Do you want the Dark Queene to find out I’m gathering forbidden sugar blossom seeds?”

High Prince Reval hurled his son into the grass, and Mor was torn back with him. Mor caught himself on his knee, but the ruby-haired Shadow Fairy broke a bone in his arm as he struck the dirt. The fairy growled, clawing at the grass as he climbed back to his feet. His sparkling, metallic hair was dishevelled. He kept his mouth shut as he stared at his father and snapped his arm back into place.

“Go fetch me a childling with pockets full of sugar blossom seeds and do it the way I asked.” The High Prince’s cold voice drifted across the circle as he made his way back to his twig throne.

“I shall complete my task as you wish,” the ruby-haired fairy promised. But his glower dragged over to Mor. “But what will you do about him?” he asked his father.

The High Prince sat and tapped his armrest. “Who is this fool’s commander?” he asked the circle.

Mor’s commander scrambled to stand. He bowed before the Prince. “I will punish him severely, Your Highness. I will take away his food for three days.”

“Nonsense, don’t drain him of his strength. He has feelings. We must stomp those out of him,” High Prince Reval said. He eyed the vine around Mor’s wrist, and another beautiful, wicked smile crossed his face as his gaze followed the tether to his son’s wrist. “Is he a decent fighter?” he asked the commander.

“Yes. He is one of my best,” the commander said. “But up until today, he has not spoken a word in front of me. I thought he was mute until just now. I’ve been calling him fool because I did not know his name.”

The High Prince nodded. “And what is your name, young fairy?”

Mor felt the implication. He knew how easy it would be for this High Prince to ask for his real name and force him to do unspeakable things.

“Mor,” he answered, because the High Prince had not been specific in his question.

“Do you know how powerful my son is, Mor?” the Prince asked.

Mor did not answer, so the Prince told him. “My son is a nine tailed fox, like me. And you must know that I’m the most powerful of all the fairies in the Dark Corner apart from the Dark Queene herself. Have you heard of foxes before?”

Mor swallowed, and this time, he nodded. “Only in childling books.”

Books that had told ancient stories of unstoppable power. Rare creatures with nine lives, the ability to steal secrets, and a special intuition that made them nearly invincible. If the Shadow Fairy beside him was what this Prince claimed, Mor wondered why this young fox had allowed Mor to take him in the first place back at the streetside. He turned and took his first real look at the ruby-haired fairy.

The ruby-haired fairy looked back at him. He flashed a lovely, crooked smile.

“You will become part of my division, Mor,” High Prince Reval announced. “I will not make it easy for you. I will ensure that every one of your feelings is squeezed out until you are nothing more than a fae folk shell for me to use in battle. You were clever enough to carry an enchanted vine in your pocket that ensnared a powerful fox, so you are worth more to me alive than dead. You start as one of my war fairies tomorrow.”

It felt as though Mor’s blood was draining out right there in the grass. He had spent years staying undetected and quiet. He had been so very careful not to stir the cauldrons or shake the pepper since the day he volunteered to join the Shadow Army. He’d stayed quiet to avoid this exact sort of thing.

“And Son, I’ve changed my mind. Forget the faeborn sugar blossoms. Your new mission is to turn this Shadow into a true war fairy.” Prince Reval’s voice was cold and sweet, and it prickled over Mor’s skin. “Even if you have to rip out his heart to do it.”

A flutter of chilling silence roared over the circle as every commander’s gaze settled on Mor.

Mor would never be able to go anywhere unnoticed again.

“And I shall be clear about this,” Prince Reval added, looking directly into Mor’s eyes. “In this army, feelings don’t belong. Once you are a Shadow Warrior, there is no love. There is no care. There is no hope of finding a mate, ever. You will be marked to be eternally alone, but we will all be alone in war together.”

Mor was deathly silent for several heartbeats. Then, he lifted his arm and bit the vine with his teeth. It snapped and the plant disintegrated to ash that fluttered away in the cold breeze. As soon as the ruby-haired fairy’s wrist was free, he walked around to stand face-to-face with Mor, silvery eyes promising that he was going to enjoy destroying him.