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To all those who’ll listen or haven’t been told, of the day the last drake woke and rose from the cold. Of the young warrior who came veiled in shadows and blood to defeat the foul creature and save those he could. Of the Fisher King, and the wolves at his back, who came howling in the night, together, a pack. The frost blessed the morning. The warriors faced their fate. And thus begins our tale, The Ballad of Ajun Gate.
The drake, he did stir, Old Omnamshacry observing the world through ink-black, mad eyes. The drinkers of night pledged him death and decay. That he’d feast on his foes and the flesh he did flay. So long as he rose and he joined them in war, against the Fae who protected the sacred, blessed ore. With glittering sharp scales of gold and of red, the drake, he consented, and bidden, he fed. The Fae in their towers stood mighty. Stood proud. But soon they were scattered, their fear shouted loud. Dark wings shaded mountain and blotted the sun. And mad old ’Shacry, he watched them all run. The wolves
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“Well, look at you. The jumped-up little Alchemist, sitting in pride of place at the family table. You’d better move before the others arrive, or you’re gonna find yourself very embarrassed.” I was sitting where I always sat now, to the right of Fisher’s chair.
THATS RIGHT LADY OF THE HOUSE
“That seat is reserved for the lady of the house, you stupid girl. Etiquette dictates that only Fisher’s wife is permitted to sit there. It’s a position of high honor meant for a Fae female born into one of the old houses,
HELL YEAH BITCH
“Gods alive, Carrion. Do not tell me you have a thing for Danya. She’s fucking awful.” “Eh.” He shot me a rakish grin. “I love a girl with a sharp tongue and a bad attitude. Kinda makes my dick hard.”
“I just love it when you disappear into tense conversations with creepy portal metal,” Carrion quipped, hoisting himself up to sit on the bench. “It’s fascinating watching you do all of those facial gymnastics.”
Carrion is my fav I swear
“I regret to inform you that I am still happily mated and married, Carrion Swift. And my husband isn’t the type to share.” “Is he handsome?” Carrion arched his eyebrow suggestively. “I do love a husband-and-wife team. Maybe he’ll let me join you both if he…”
THIS MAN NEEDS TO CHILL
“Once upon a time, that was the case. Back when true mating bonds existed. Unions between true mates were blessed with marks from the Fates. That’s where the tradition of inking our hands originated from. But there’s no such thing as true mates anymore. When the gods left Yvelia, certain elements of our magic either died or waned over time.
NOT THE MATING BOND
“Do people… get that sometimes? Going around… their wrists?” “Oh, no. Definitely not. You only see that kind of thing in storybooks,” Te Léna scoffed. “They called it a God Binding. A blessing from the gods themselves. They weren’t real, of course. The most important couples in Yvelian history were said to have had them, but it was all romantic rubbish. Just something storytellers embellished to make their tales more tragic. Plus, they looked impressive in the illuminated books.”
WELL GIRL
“I am not weak, Fisher! I’m not like those butterflies, pathetic, hatching and dying in the cold—” “Not you! Me!” He thumped himself in his chest, suddenly furious. “My weakness! My vulnerability! I’ve known for centuries that you were coming.
OH NOT THE PASSION
But when they do…” Kingfisher swallowed, shaking his head. “It’s the most beautiful thing a person can experience in this lifetime. They glow blue and pink and silver, with an ethereal light. They have music, though no one knows how. A sweet, soft song that’s capable of healing. The Oshellith mate and lay their eggs, but once that’s done, they fill the air, and they dance. Protecting them while they live is considered a sacred rite that many die in order to perform. That’s what Oshellith means in Old Fae, Saeris. Most Sacred.
fine I’ll get a butterfly tattoo
“In all of her drawings of you, your ears were like mine. You were Fae. And when I saw…” He sucked in a deep breath. Sat up a little straighter. “When I felt Solace calling to me and I stepped into that pool, I saw that you were human, and I knew in an instant how easily this place would destroy you. So I made the decision to leave you there. But I couldn’t leave you, could I?”
JUST WAIT THIS BITCH GONNA BE FAE
“I’ve been dying to know. After a hundred and ten years in that labyrinth, what made you finally leave?” “You bored him to fucking tears and he couldn’t take it anymore,” Carrion sniped.
PERIOD MY MAN
“I don’t like you, human. Something about you smells… off.” “That’s probably the weird… moss… these water sprites rubbed… all over me…” Carrion croaked. “It had a strange… funk… to it.”
Malcolm rocked back on his heels, lips stained red, his chin crinkling in an odd way as he frowned down at Carrion. “You…” he said. Carrion was deathly pale, but he grinned up at Malcolm like a lunatic. “You really should have let me finish introducing myself earlier. It’s rude to interrupt people.”
CARRION IS SPECIAL OMG
“My name is Carrion Swift. But there was a time when I was known as Carrion Daianthus. Firstborn son to Rurik and Amelia Daianthus.”
AND DONT FORGET
