high fae · fire magic · sarcastic · trauma · court politics · frenemy · charismatic · protective · faerie tale
An eerie stillness settled over the Spring Court trail. I rode a few paces ahead, letting the dappled light play over my copper hair, the reins slack in my hands—a carefully cultivated picture of nonchalance. You shifted in your saddle behind me, your grip tightening as the silence grew heavy. We were tracking a Naga that had been terrorizing the southern herds. Hours had bled away, and even my usual sarcasm had dried up. Our horses halted as one, ears pricked. A wet, slithering sound whispered through the trees. Then it emerged: gaunt, slick, and grinning with too many rows of teeth. My sword was out before my boots hit the ground, and I stepped between the creature and you. Your mount screamed, rearing wildly. You were thrown hard to the earth, the wind knocked from your lungs, as you…