Chapter 7

Cold Reality

“I apologize for the delay. I was just finishing up a conversation with an old friend.” An old man's deep voice echoed throughout the brightly lit room as he entered, the door quietly closing behind him with a gust of cold wind.

The elderly man, donning robes of deep blue, slowly strolled further into the room with a cane made of Kinderash, decorated with silver and gems of Cobalt and Ruby.

A chocolate-skinned woman, bathed in gold and Emeraldine from her beautifully ornate crown to her layered gown, pulled her attention away from the small group and towards the man. “Worry not, Elliott. We were merely catching up.” Her gentle voice assured him. She immediately held her hand out towards the assigned seat of the approaching man, creating a soft breeze to push the chair back just a bit.

“You are too kind, Queen Titania.” He smiled softly at the woman. He held his free hand out to grip the backrest, carefully sitting down. He glanced across the table to the rest of the colorful group. “Carnati, you’re practically glowing. How are you these days, my dear?”

“Blessed and well, thank you sir.” The voluptuous woman coated the pink and dark green hues nodded towards Father Wynter, golden tea cup in hand.

To the right of him sat the Reyes de Los Muertos, Chamiabac and Xibalba, graced in orange and red respectively, both waving to the man warmly.

“Hopefully your trip wasn't too exhaustive. You're not getting younger, you know.” The King of All Hallows chuckled aloud.

“As blunt as my brother may be, he is correct. You travelled all this way with just your cane?” Xibalba frowned.

“Gentlemen, you know the cold sank into that man's bones centuries ago. Pop Pop could use the walk.” Carnati spoke up from across the table, sipping on a cup of tea.

“Ya’ll motherfuckers got jokes.” Elliott grumbled, tapping his cane on the marbled floor once. “Ya'll ain't that much younger than me, now! Ya'll don't get me started!” 

Never one to ignore a provocation, Xibalba clapped his hands as a wry grin split his face.

“Or what chu gon do? Shake that cane at us all angry like?” 

Chamiabac let out a deep chuckle as he prodded his brother with his elbow, playfully. “Watch out, o l d man Ringfeld is wigglin up this way! Whatever will we do?”

The group lit up in laughter, adding warmth to the high ceilings of ashen stone. As they began to quiet down, Carnati clapped once, drawing the attention of the room. Her face quickly shifted from her casual demeanor into Mother Nature.

“Now that we are all here, what is the purpose of this Elders Meeting?”

When the question was posed, the joyful energy of the room sank into seriousness. The All Hallows King cleared his throat. “I originally requested today for our annual meeting, but the lands of the Autumnal Ruins has recently encountered some strange occurrences in previous weeks.”

The Remisian King adjusted in his seat, folding his gloved hands atop the sleek gold speckled wood. “I suggested this information be shared with you all, as it will pertain to the safety and welfare of New Temperantia, as a whole.”

“Pray tell, what could it be?” Astoria questioned.

“The Autumnal Ruins recently encountered a Level 3 Void Spawn Event in the town of Cycron. This spawn, somehow, was able to create more Void Spawn to attack.” Chamiabac divulged, his brow furrowed.

Despite the glittering chandeliers of the Hall of Titles and the warm sun glowing through the windows, the energy of the room quickly darkened with the news.

“A Level 3 within town limits?” Carnati queried.

“Are you certain that the spawn created others? Is that even possible?” Father Wynter stressed with concern, eyes darting between the Reyes.

“It was confirmed by my son and his Gold Helm Knights. His reports stated that there were multiple spawn spotted across town, with the largest Void Spawn as the Mana source.” Chamiabac explained to the Elders. “Further reports show that a rip in the Void appeared near the center of town suddenly, almost out of thin air.”

“This is distressing.” Queen Titania muttered. “How many lost?”

“The final total is three hundred and twelve lost and fifty-two injured. At least ten are unaccounted for. The clean-up will more than likely progress well into the new year.” The King of Remisia reluctantly stated, hanging his head.

“We wanted to make sure you all were aware that Void Spawn are now suddenly appearing near or within town lines, though it is unclear if they are also traveling between New Temperantía. This is completely unprecedented behavior, especially in a time where all countries are already on high alert.” Chamiabac finished, sternly glancing around the room to his peers.

“If the seal on The Void is becoming unstable again,” Father Wynter warned, "It's only a matter of time before he awakens.”

“We are aware, though we still have time before the next rupture.” Xibalba nodded to the older man. “I will continue to monitor the Ruins for additional Void Pockets. If any spawn are encountered in your country, you are free to call upon us for assistance.”

“Verne Valley will assist, in kind.” Mother Nature pledged to the group.

“Understood. You may summon my missives, if necessary.” Astoria confirmed.

“The next matter at hand…” The Remisian King lifted his folded hands from the table to his mouth, eyes dimming. “We have another concern regarding the sudden arrival of our great-nephew, Fitzgerald.”

Nyxis’ POV

“Are you sure we’re going to need all these books?” The Commander sighed, leaning forward in her seat with her sleeved arms folded over the Darkwood table. She was removed from her noticeable blue cloak, which sat draped over the backrest of her chair.

Directly across from her sat Bast, stripped from his distinct red coat into a pure white buttoned shirt with rolled sleeves, a gloved hand clamped tightly on his silver flask. His injured wrist was wrapped in large strips of cloth, little splotches of red peeking from the clean white cloth.

Between them were piles of books; some were opened, others were stacked. It almost felt like a regular evening of studies, if it weren’t for the strange air between them.

She may not have sounded eager to learn, but that was the beauty of nonchalance.

She didn't need to look engaged to be excited. 

Upon arrival at Chakram, Nyxis had asked Rudolph to immediately recon the city for any more of those things, fearing an unexpected battle near Downtown. Any and all fights near or around Chakram at this time would be devastating.

Before sending him off, she also directed him to intake any and all incoming information from the Herd, send them on their way and report to her and Bast once all were accounted for. She needed all the time possible to retain everything.

Once Rudolph was out of earshot, the Elves gathered a myriad of heavy tomes from Rowena’s and Father Wynter’s studies, hastily retreated to the Commander’s library and settled in for another long night and another useful lesson. 

“Just to start, I want to make something clear.” The man began, placing his flask atop the table. “I apologize for not properly tending to your studies. As the heir to the Claus line, you deserved a better instructor and as your Advisor, I should have been there to oversee.” 

Nyxis blinked, taken aback by the sudden apology. She shook her head swiftly, brows furrowed. “Not this again. Look, she was purposely keeping you busy. You aren’t at fault for-.”

“Respectfully, in my absence, the Witch purposely kept you ignorant.” Bast cut the woman off, his stare unwavering towards her. His voice was stern, but held an underlying direness, “You are prized talent, don’t get me wrong. You’ve had to get accustomed to a lot of shit really quickly, and due to that, you were allowed to believe anything. There are things you don’t know that you don’t know.”

“I’ve practically memorized every officially important book the mountain has to offer, granted I’ve already been lowkey ‘borrowing’ books from the Witch’s office.” The woman softly contested, slouching back in her seat. She then quickly realized his telltale habit of prefacing his statements, and braced for the verbal impact.

“Whatever bullshit she's been telling you over the centuries didn’t prepare you for anything regarding potentially ruling or even the darker sides of Aeon. Nyx, you are woefully unprepared, and she gave you just enough to make you believe you are assimilating to Mt. Wynter. In all honesty, you don’t know shit.” The man concluded, shaking his head.

The Commander’s eyes flickered from the man down to her hands, stunned into silence by his brutal honesty. She knew he wouldn’t lie to her, but damn.

That statement wasn’t from her ‘Advisor’. His tone was that of an older brother finding out his sister was led astray, and choosing to take responsibility for something he wasn’t responsible for.

Taking accountability for an outsider’s ignorance; and this outsider was to someday lead her Father’s land.

Bast meant more than he said. She wouldn’t admit it, but she suddenly felt out of place; seated behind a mountain of books, viewing the world from an outside perspective.

‘Am I… really that misguided?’

“This is no fault of yours. You weren’t born in New Temperantia. It would’ve taken you literal centuries to understand Chakram culture, much less the general Esprit livelihood from a Human standpoint.” The Advisor sat back in his seat, finally looking away from the woman towards the stack of books on his left. “But now that we have evidence of inadequate instruction and improper guidance, I’m certain that Father Wynter wouldn’t object to a change of tutor.”

“If that’s the case, can I choose my tutor?” She asked quietly. Ideally, she would've chosen Bast, if he was ever available past his other duties. 

"We’ll talk about that later. For now, I’m going to essentially speed run everything you should have been taught years ago into a single night.” The man shook his head, solely focused on this study session.

“Alright… Explain it to me.” The Commander meekly muttered.

“Do you know what The Void is?” He queried.

“From what I was told, it's a space where Albrun flows in reverse. It eats it, like a black hole.” She hesitantly answered, unsure of the validity.

Bast ran his hand through his snowy locs as he exhaled slowly. “You're half correct.” He looked down almost morosely before continuing. “What you are describing are Void Pockets. My mom used to describe it as rips in the fabric of reality. Those are created by The Void, with common appearances near high Albrun points in Aeon.”

Nyxis waited patiently for the man to continue. Were it not for the years of camaraderie between the two, she would have assumed that was the end of his thoughts.

She knew better, though, as he spoke on.

“Father Wynter explained The Void as an essence of chaos left behind in the never-ending war between the Old Gods. It hungers for an existence because it itself is empty; perpetually empty, hungry and always yearning for something it cannot be or have.” Bast elaborated, his frown deepening and his voice ever so slightly shaking as his speech began quickening. “It eats the soul of anything within its vicinity, because it itself has nothing within it. The name ‘Void’ isn't a fancy title; it's an apt description of nothingness."

In the face of the topic and constant mentions of an otherworldly concept, the Commander wouldn’t dare admit fear, but she could barely hold back the shivers of his ominous words piercing up her spine. 

Very often did they share their worries, but the usually composed man was slowly spiraling.

No matter the situation his normal placid tone would rarely change, yet alone devolve into a barely cohesive mess. She had never seen him so frazzled; in all their years of friendship, very few things could claim to scare Alabastor Ringfeld.

Nyxis carefully observed the man, noting his quickened speech and hastened breathing.

The Elf could feel it in her bones.

The Void terrified him, more than anything.

‘But why?’

“One cannot stop The Void; it will always attempt to reach out, via Void Pockets. However, we can halt it. The pockets aren’t difficult to seal, though there are places that have multiple rips, weakening the Albrun Pool around it. Sooner or later, the Void, for lack of a better term, corrupts the area it surrounds.”

“When you say it ‘corrupts’, what do you mean?” The woman asked, eyes flickering around the books around her. Something had to be here in writing. Maybe a painting, a drawing, perhaps. 

The Advisor took a small sip of his flask, wiping the excess off his lips with the back of his gloved hand. He then flipped an atlas over to her, pointing to several landmasses.

“In the instance of Mt. Wynter, an arctic-tundra biome, your first clue will be the lack of snow in an otherwise snowy area. Hyper-forested areas like the Cape, or the wide fields of the Valley, you'll recognize the environmental effects in the form of a rapid decay of plant life.”

He then lifted an exceptionally heavier tome with ease and placed it before her, opening to an excerpt mentioning the subject while smoothing out the page. He pointed to a different segment, sliding his finger along the map until he paused over the lands of Autumnal Ruins.

“Hundreds of centuries before us, The Void's hold over was vast, realms, and the Equinox Ocean, but the Realm Elders of old were able to push it back, so to speak.”

“So, it’s in an isolated spot?” The Commander questioned.

“Not necessarily. It’s sealed away in Remisia, but the seal will eventually weaken.” The Advisor answered.

As he turned to the next page, her eyes quickly caught the familiar phrase the man mentioned earlier, written in bold large print: Void Spawn. She carefully read the paragraph beneath it.

‘The Void can devour and ultimately alter any Albrun-sufficient being or location. It reaches out and absorbs all nearby Albrun, twisting and modifying until one is mutated on a molecular level, often resulting in otherworldly appearances and vast Void Pockets. Barely viable creatures created by the corruption of The Void. Studies and further academic research discover that the ruptures are a desperate attempt to break free from its seal.’

Nyxis narrowed her eyes slightly, rereading the description of the word her advisor mentioned. The cogs of her mind had started turning, reminding her of the harried shouts of her friend.

She glanced upwards from the book to her advisor. “That thing we fought in the forest. You called it a Void Spawn.”

The man nodded, reaching for another book to continue, making direct eye contact with the Elf.

“Before you ask, the short answer is they are damned souls touched by the Void, unable to revert back to who they once were. Long answer and the most common occurrence; Some poor bastard falls into a Void Pocket or remains in an area with active rips for a prolonged time.” The Advisor looked shaken as he continued, hands clasped on the table between them, “Either way, when a soul is trapped within The Void, it is slowly and painfully twisted until it is irrevocably changed. Mutated…” 

He took another pause, inhaling a breath just as slowly as he exhaled. After another second, he explained further.

“Uncle told me the process of which a Void Spawn is mutated to completion usually takes months to years. It is driven by an eternal and insatiable hunger to devour other souls, living or dead, to fill the void caused by its descent and ease its pain.”

The Commander appeared calm as he elaborated further, but Bast could tell by her posture that she was becoming less than composed. The only blatant sign being a lone drop of sweat sliding down her cheek.

“Is this a common occurrence in New Temperantia?” Nyxis swallowed hard, tightly wringing her hands together.

“A rarity this far out, but the odds are never zero percent. There’s something about the mountain that makes it difficult for a Void Pocket to form, but they do still happen.” He peered down at his clasped hands again, “We haven't dealt with a Void Spawn Event since before the Fallen Leaves Incident…”

Suddenly, her Advisor’s words completely processed in her mind, reminding her of previous moments in her youth that finally began to make sense.

One memory in particular.

On the night of the incident, the Elf witnessed two citizens unexpectedly morph and contort into grotesque amalgamations of flesh and tissue; similar to that of the Void Spawn she dispatched today. The morning after, she was swiftly moved from Chakram to Frostlyn for years, to attend the military academy. Some of those nights were longer than others, when the memory would haunt her dreams until she awoke in a cold sweat. 

She never told anyone what she saw that night, or of the dark aura she felt from it; she had never considered a connection.

But there was one: those people were Esperits. Albrun-Users.

‘Inner Peace…Be Calm…’

If what Bast said was true, that The Void corrupts absolutely…

‘“Some poor bastard falls into a Void Pocket…”’

The blood in Nyxis’ veins abruptly ran cold, time seemingly slowing down around her.

‘Did I… Did I kill someone?’

“Bast, please be honest with me. Are Void Spawn… people?” She finally asked, a faint crack in her nonchalant mask beginning to form.

“Well… They used to be…” The Advisor trailed off, green eyes drifting downward slightly before lifting towards his Commander, now haunted and unfocused. His voice was low, hesitant to continue, but his last words came out in a near whisper. “At one point.”

The Elf’s shoulders slowly slumped down, all previous interest subsequently sizzling away under a heavy layer of cold reality. Nyxis knew her position as Jack Frost was not for the faint of heart, but she only understood a mere portion of the concept, with limited information.

The Commander of Mt. Wynter didn't know the people of Mt. Wynter; only of their struggles through words on official documents and tomes of their past. 

New Temperantia was bizarrely unpredictable, and like a child, her attention was trapped by shiny things and bright colors. 

She wasn’t paying attention to the danger.

“When The Void injects itself into an Esprit, it eats away at their soul; every ounce of who they were, extinct. Erased and replaced with creatures containing the ravenous hunger of The Void.” He closed the dark blue tome before them. 

Nyxis noted the subtle shaking of his hands, but made no mention of it, as hers were doing the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“It’s never sated, always starving, and slowly propagating as it gorges itself on any and all Albrun it can find. It seeks to devour, and there is no Albrun source more bountiful than that of an Esprit's soul.”

The two sat in silence, the crackling of fireplace embers only adding to the dreaded ambiance. For the first time in the many hours of collection and research, she had noticed just how clammy her hands felt, and the cool sweat on her brow.

‘Inner Peace. Be Calm.’

Pins stabbed around her stomach at the thought, as she pulled her hands into her lap, clenching tighter. 

Anyone in New Temperantia could become something so unpredictablely dangerous at any given time.

She understood it now; why her friend was so disturbed talking about this.

Anyone with access to Albrun was a target for The Void.

Herself, included.

‘I see why this information shouldn’t be released to the public, but why wouldn’t the Witch be forthcoming to me with this information?’

‘Was she expecting me to encounter a Void Spawn in the field and just die?’

’Or become one?’

Each answered question dwindled her will to continue, yet more questions lingered in the dreaded air, with no way to articulate them clearly.

Breaking the stare, Bast sighed as he lent forward in his seat, lifting a gloved hand to rub his eye from fatigue. He was steadily regaining composure; his breathing stabilizing, his jittering hands leveling out.

‘…Inner Peace…Be Calm… Inner Peace…Be Calm…’

“It’s all fun and games until you realize lives are on the line… but then again, you didn’t know that you didn’t know.” The man concluded, rising from his seat, slowly gathering books for her to read. “Being Jack Frost doesn't just mean you're the Commander of Mt. Wynter; It also means that you are the first line of defense, the first sword on the battlefield. Get used to seeing Void Spawn, because you'll be required to dispatch them.”

A rap of knocks from the decorated wooden door echoed throughout the room, compelling both Elves to turn their attention towards the sound and halt their conversation.

“Come in.” The Commander called out, snapping her out of her stupor. She started closing various tomes on the desk regarding sensitive information out of view.

As the door opened, a light burst of cold air mixed with snowflakes blew into the room, as a balding dark-skinned man dressed in robes of deep blue and silver strolled in, followed by the light clomping of hooves.

The man’s warm smile cut through the heaviness of the room, and the silence with two muffled taps of his ornate cane against the wide, red rug. “I knew I would find you both toiling away in here.” The man announced.

“Father Wynter! Forgive us, had we known that you’ve returned-” The Commander stood as she spoke, but trailed off with a wave of the man's hand.

“No need, my dear. Rudolph here so kindly brought me up to speed.” Father Wynter chuckled heartily, his warm smile piercing through the cold tension of the room. He approached the table, nonchalantly glancing over the mess. “I take it you were conducting some research of our new anomalies?”

“As much as we could cover in an evening.” Bast spoke up, standing from his seat. He exhaled a sigh of relief as he began to pick up various books.

“And I suspect you have questions, correct?” The Elder mused aloud, turning his aloof gaze towards the Commander.

“Y-yes…” Nyxis nodded hesitantly, her blood starting to pump quickly. The dread had crossed her mind multiple times over and the adrenaline was begging to take over, but she mentally wrote them both off as exhaustion from Mana usage.

The Realm Elder had just returned, but her thirst for the answers she longed for were right in reach.

She fully understood that proceeding down the rabbit hole would increase the certainty of never resurfacing.

Bast gave her his full support, Rowena wasn’t here to stop her, and she had already taken the first plunge when she became Jack Frost.

‘Why not go further?’

“Sir, forgive me for my bluntness, but can we please discuss something, in private?” She finally asked, her mind sound but her heart pounding.

“Of course! Come, let's speak in my office. Bast, we will reconvene in the morning. Also, thank you again, Rudolph, for walking me through town.” The man smoothed the tufts of fur on the bucks’ head.

“Anytime, Sir!” The Reindeer happily piped up, bending one knee to the Elder before turning his attention to the Elves. “Do you want my report now?”

“Give it to Bast. I'll be right back.” The woman instructed, walking around the table towards the Elder, quickly grabbing her cloak.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Rudolph recited, happily clomping over to the Elf.

The man had paused in his task to glance over to the two walking towards the door, catching Nyxis’ gaze momentarily as she put on her proverbial safety blanket. With a final nod between Advisor and Commander, Nyxis opened the door of her comfort zone, her library, to allow Father Wynter to exit.

All previous visits Nyxis made to the Realm Elder’s official study immediately soothed her spirit. The two storied room held high walls of white marble and Kinderash shelves, housing tens of thousands of tomes, ancient and new. 

The room itself always twinkled in her eyes, always filling her with wonder and awe. Under the gorgeously decorated chandeliers, the books still called to her, silently coercing her to approach the shelves and open their secrets.

This evening, however, she certainly had no desire to read.

“Now let’s get down to business. What can I do for you?” Father Wynter questioned, slowly walking over to his desk, before he gently lowered himself into a wooden chair.

The woman breathed in deep, trying to lower the adrenaline pumping in her veins, pulling the seat back over the royal red carpet to sit down.

Every previous conversation between them had always been treasured, peaceful moments to her, like a child learning something special about a parent.

Father Wynter was known to be all-knowing atop the mountain.

Did he, too, know about the Witch’s shenanigans and refused to act?

Or was he not aware at all?

‘…Inner Peace…Be Calm…’

“Sir, I’ve recently-” Nyxis started, but was quickly stopped by a thump of the man’s cane.

“Hey now, we talked about this, no?” Father Wynter chuckled, “Within my office, you may speak freely. You do not have to call me “sir”, Elliott will do just fine.”

The woman sighed before continuing on with a little more confidence. “I’ve recently retained some information, and if possible, I’d like you to verify its authenticity.”

“Of course! Tell me all.” The man nodded softly.

Another breath escaped her lips. “Did you speak with the Reyes after the Fallen Leaf Incident?”

The man’s smile fell as he offered his own sigh, bringing a hand to smooth down his white beard. “Yes. I did, along with Alabastor.”

“May I ask…why I couldn’t attend the conversation?” She asked quietly, almost dreading the answer. 

Father Wynter's brows furrowed at the Commander, perturbed. “I was under the impression that you did not want to meet with them. Rowena told me you were too distraught to attend.”

Her eyes widened at his response, but she quickly composed herself. The man across from her must have noticed her expression change, as he sighed again, deeper than the situation.

He didn’t know.

A rare sight, indeed.

“I see…” The woman mused aloud. She clutched her arms under her cloak, rubbing her thumb over her forearm.

The Elder placed a hand on the table, shaking his head. “Please understand. I would never put you in a position that would make you uncomfortable. In the same breath, you did deserve to hear them out and I failed to retrieve you myself. I apologize, Nyxis. ” 

She sat in silence for a moment, collecting her thoughts, eyes shifting around the Darkwood table.

The Elf saw it fit to deliver on her promise, and chose to speak freely, as requested.

Consequences be damned.

“I don't blame you. The information you received was misconstrued, at best and false, at worst. That was a lie, constructed by Rowena.” The Elf confessed soundly.

Father Wynter nodded to her. “I'm starting to understand that. I believed her with full confidence that she would take appropriate care of you in Nicholas’ place, but it would seem she's back to her old ways, again.”

‘Old ways? Again?? Is this shit normalized?!’

“Somthing on your mind, young one?”

The Elf snapped out of her thoughts at his words, lifting her gaze to the Elder. His face was impassive but calm, save for the sincerity in his eyes. She inhaled deep before summoning the courage of her convictions.

“I have been made aware that Mrs. Claus had sabotaged my teachings, leaving key details out of my tutoring and redirecting my advisor so that I remain ignorant.” Nyxis confessed, not holding back. “I will admit that I was young, naive and not entirely privy to the world around me or the situation at hand. But in all honesty, sir, I don't respect Rowena, and I certainly don't trust her as far as I can throw her.”

“Cold and observant, your honesty is astute. I will greatly consider your words when replacing your tutor.” The man sat up slightly, adjusting his shoulders. “Is there something else?”

“Yes, I know it’s been nearly ten years since the incident, but can you tell me what the Reyes told you?” Nyxis questioned.

“Allow me to say something to you first.” The Elder began, standing from his seat with his cane. “Your intuitive mind should be able to interpret its meaning.”

The Elf tilted her head, puzzled by the tangent, but played along. “O-okay…”

“Young one, you were willing to ‘borrow’ books from Rowena’s study to learn new concepts. You were more than willing to find your own answers. You were able to finally speak up for yourself. All this to say that you are growing into the strong woman I thought you would be, and I couldn’t be prouder.” Father Wynter praised her softly, accompanied by a light smile.

She nodded slowly, his words processing in her head. The Ringfelds all had a tell, young and old. Father Wynter loved to preface through riddles, but he continued.

“You may see me as a trustworthy source, and while I am exceptionally grateful for your willingness to learn from me, you’ve earned the Jack Frost Title by yourself, rightfully. You represent Mt. Wynter proudly and you will eventually meet all types of Esprits from across New Temperantia, building your own diplomatic relationships, brick by brick.” He suddenly gave a light chuckle, “As you and Bast say; ‘Getting curious’ is par for the course, no?”

The Commander eyed the man carefully, her tension from the night before melting away into fuel. Immediately, she knew exactly what he meant.

Assuming he knows that Bast told her the truth, Father Wynter wanted her to learn more, on her terms.

‘You want me to ask those questions, myself; to fight the biased words I’ve heard for years and hear the truth.’

“With all that said, would you still like me to tell you?” The Elder asked.

“On second thought…” Nyxis piped up, “Perhaps…I should consider other perspectives.”

“I knew you would understand. I believe that you should pose your questions wisely, and soon. The Banquet is tomorrow, no?” Father Wynter peered out of the floor to ceiling window into the darkness of the world.

Nyxis snapped her gaze from the Elder to the grandfather clock in between the high shelves. 13:26 in the morning. 

The day went from zero to one hundred, expeditiously, but she didn't realize it was already the next day.

“For-forgive me. I was unaware of the time. You need time to rest after your journey.” She briefly stuttered as she stood up from her seat, dropping her arms under her cloak. 

“While I appreciate your concerns towards my wellbeing, you should bring me your concerns regarding yourself. Do not forget: this is your country just as much as it is mine. Do not hesitate to bring me those concerns, Nyxis.” Father Wynter concluded, nodding to the woman. “I heard you only received your invitation for the Fall Banquet yesterday morning. You only have a day to prepare, so you best move quickly.”

”I will take my leave, then. Have a restful evening, Sir.” The Elf quickly bowed to the man near the window and moved towards the stairs to the lower level.

The man swiftly held up his cane, shaking it with annoyance. “Dammit! I said don’t call me “Sir”! Makes me sound old!” He shouted towards the woman.

Nyxis gave up on walking and floated down the stairs, avoiding the Elder’s echoing shouts by slipping out of view. She wasted no time in leaving the room entirely, closing the door or wonders behind her.

She literally had absolutely no interest in reading, and a quiet smirk slowly creeped upon her face as she zipped down and around the hallways, towards her library.

‘If I go, I’ll be representing Mt. Wynter for the first time in 10 years.’ 

If I go, I can meet other people, and I can find out how they feel about the Witch.’ 

‘If I go, I’ll get my answers about my father, and what actually happened. No more run-arounds, no more illusions, no more lies.’

‘Father Wynter gave me his full approval to find out for myself.’

‘No one can stop me.’

Her chest fell in a breath of relief as she approached the familiar door. Everything was going well, for a change. 

“YOU!” Screeched a very stern, very stressed out female voice behind the Commander. “Where the fuck have you been?!”

Nyxis spun around hastily to the voice, her heart jumping to her ass. Standing over her was Rozaliya, red eyes wide with a smirk that looked as menacing as it did devious. “I’ve been busy! Damn! Why am I getting pressedright now?!”

“You got an invite to the banquet, and you didn’t tell me?!” The Nymph complained, stepping forward.

“What? I just got it yesterday!” The Elf objected, taking an equal step back into the door. “Calm the fuck down, Roza!”

“Don’t tell me that shit got lost in the mail! They send them with personal attendants!” Roza argued, wagging her finger at the Commander.

If anyone had witnessed this conversation, they would be absolutely stunned, and no one would ever believe them.

“Look, I don’t know any of that shit. All I know is I’m going!” The Elf stated quickly.

“No shit, you’re going! You need a damn dress, and I’ve been looking for you all day to get you set up!” The Nymph growled, gripping the Commander’s arm and hauling her away from her safe place.

“Roza, wait! Bast needs-” Nyxis tried to argue, but the blonde’s grip was tighter than she remembered.

“Bast is fine! I already fixed his arm waiting for your ass! Let’s go, bitch!”

Vincent’s POV

He hated every visit into Corona Aurea’s throne room; far too bright, too much gold. The emeraldine ornaments made it look gaudy, and the few splatters of purple looked blasé to the overall vision, in his opinion.

But who was he to judge? The Fae love their gold, real or fake.

Although, the highlight of the room wasn’t the scenery. It was the women on their thrones; though they were never gaudy.

No, they were beauties; whether in the brightest gold or the darkest purples.

Queen Astoria sat upon her throne, draped in a white and black dress with gold adornments, overlooking himself and Tyr, his mentor and adoptive father. 

Beside her in a smaller, but equally ornate throne sat a younger woman, with mocha skin and dark hair pulled into an elaborate hairpiece. The purple and blue embroidered gown hugged her bodice, flowing over her feet in layers of fabric. Her soft eyes were the deepest hue of brown, though they still glittered like gold.

Princess Midsommar of Midsummer Cape, Cielo; soft spoken, but when she chooses to speak, a mage with words.

With all the important people in the room, Tyr cleared his throat.

“Titania, what is the purpose of this meeting?” The man asked, nonchalantly.

Queen or not, the woman was his friend. He would address her however he pleased, but never disrespectfully.

“I called upon you all to share information, though I will be brief. This must not leave this room, under anycircumstances.” Astoria announced soundly, carefully gazing at the men.

Both man and Nymph stiffened up, all casualness they were used to swiftly exiting their frames.

An important issue was never a good sign.

“Understood. What’s going on?” Vincent piped up, shifting on his feet.

“I have been recently told that there was a Void Spawn Event in Cycron, dispatched and reported by the Guardian de Los Muertos. The Elders and I have agreed to a joint alliance between all countries of New Temperantia, as well as a collaborative defense protocol if we ever encounter such an event.” The Queen continued. “We are to assist wherever necessary.”

“The Void again, huh?” Tyr mused, folding his arms over his chest, loudly proud. “And the Prince took it out. My training is clearly working!”

Vincent was lowkey proud of his friend. The man was under an incredible amount of pressure as a potential leader and a Title Holder, and a Void Spawn Event just sounds like a hassle.

He glanced over to Cielo, who was quietly listening to her mother. She was taking this revelation easier than most people would.

His mind wandered back to Commander Frost, when they last fought in Ferrum Ember. Their encounter was brief, but informative. She looked overworked.

Maybe the pressure made her show up that day. The last time he saw the Elf was 10 years ago.

The Nymph turned his attention back to the Queen.

“When you say “assist wherever necessary”, what are our bounds?” He questioned aloud.

“From the Valley to the Ruins to the Mountain. Before you mention it, yes, I am also surprised.” The woman answered.

Both men glanced between each other, puzzled.

“Mt. Wynter agreed to it?” The Nymph muttered.

“Father Wynter mentioned something about “new management” upon the mountain, which may open the doors for diplomacy. If you are summoned, please act accordingly as representatives of Midsummer.”

Tyr and Vincent nodded and confirmed in unison. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Lastly, it has come to my attention that El Cucuy’s son, Fitzgerald, has returned to New Temperantia. I will not rehash the various crimes or past situations, however, I know that you both have had previous conflicts.”

Vincent felt his left eye twitch. That was a name he never wanted to hear again.

“While I do believe that the Reyes will keep him under control, I fear that he has not changed his antagonistic ways. El Cucuy was a danger to New Temperantia, and he learned everything he knew from the Mad Scientist. For this reason, my orders are as follows: You are to not attack Fitzgerald, unless he is deemed a danger to yourselves or Midsummer Cape.”

The men bowed to the women on their thrones, faces cold as stone.

“Yes, Yes Grace.”