The Fairy Queen rose from her throne, her dragonfly-like wings unfurling in a display of brilliance and menace. Light poured through their rainbow patterns, painting the floor in a dizzying array of colors that almost distracted from the hateful, soul-crushing waves of power rolling off her.
Her imperious gaze swept over us, disdain written in every line of her delicate, yet cruel, face.
"You dare intrude upon my domain, giants? You foul the air with your presence, trample my home, and expect to leave unscathed?" Her voice, melodic yet biting, echoed through the throne room.
The oppressive aura of her magic began to weigh down the room, thick and suffocating. The temperature dropped sharply, our breaths misting as the energy of her spellwork coiled around us like an unseen predator, a tingling sensation in my sinuses marking its presence.
I stepped forward, raising my hand to conjure a wind barrier that shimmered in the magic-laden air. "We're not here to destroy your home," I said, my voice calm yet firm. "But we need access to the core of this Sanctum. Stand down, and we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed."
Her laugh pierced the air with a chilling intensity. "Bloodshed? You speak of bloodshed as though you understand it. Very well. Let us see how your arrogance serves you in the face of true power."
She raised her hand, and the air seemed to tear apart, dark tendrils spilling forth like smoke given life. From the shadows of the room, figures began to rise—spectral warriors, their forms shifting and incomplete, but their blades and claws gleaming with malice.
The room dimmed further as the queen summoned a surge of dark energy that crackled in her palm before launching it directly at us.
"Move!" I shouted, diving to the side as the blast exploded against my barrier, shattering it instantly and sending shards of wind scattering through the room.
Hamish surged forward, his swords flashing in the dim light as he engaged the nearest spectral warrior. His strikes were swift and calculated, but the shadows seemed to reform with every blow. Gritting his teeth, he infused his blades with radiant light and struck again, this time the warrior dissolved with a shriek, its essence fading into the ether.
Snow, standing back with her staff raised, summoned a dome of icy protection around her and Langston. "These shadows are relentless," she muttered, her magic forming jagged spikes of ice that shot toward the queen, her staff glowing faintly. The spikes shattered inches from her, deflected by an invisible barrier.
Chaucer darted around the edges of the fight, using the chaos to his advantage. His small frame made him almost impossible to target, and he used his agility to leap onto the back of a spectral warrior, driving his blade into its core. "Nice parlor tricks, but I've faced deadlier shades in a tavern brawl!" he sneered, cool and cutting, as the creature dissolved.
"Focus, Chaucer!" I snapped, summoning a volley of light missiles. The glowing projectiles fanned out, each seeking a different target, the room lit up as they struck, scattering the shadows and giving Hamish a moment to catch his breath.
Langston, crouched behind Snow's icy barrier, muttered, "This device could use some refinement," as he pulled a small gadget from his bag. With quick adjustments, he twisted a knob and hurled it into the fray, a blinding flash erupting, momentarily disrupting the queen's focus and forcing the shadows to falter, his eyes narrowing with militant focus.
The Queen's eyes narrowed, her composure slipping for the first time. She gestured sharply, and a monstrous, shadowy construct began to rise in the center of the room. Its form was grotesque and immense, wings spread wide as it let out a guttural roar.
Hamish tightened his grip on his swords. "That's new."
"Hit it hard!" I gave the command, summoning a gust of wind to force the creature back. Snow unleashed a torrent of icy shards, but the construct seemed unfazed, its shadowy form absorbing the attacks.
Hamish rushed forward, his blades glowing with radiant light as he slashed at the beast's legs. The strikes bit deep, the light searing its form, but the creature retaliated with a sweeping claw that sent him sprawling. Snow's magic caught him midair, cushioning his fall before he could hit the ground.
Chaucer leapt onto the creature's back, his small dagger stabbing into what appeared to be its spine. "Hold still, you lumbering oaf, let's carve you a new tale!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. The construct thrashed, forcing Chaucer to leap away just before a massive claw swiped at him.
I took the opportunity to channel my light magic, forming a spear of pure energy in my hand. With a deep breath, I hurled it at the creature's core, the spear struck true, piercing through the construct and causing it to convulse violently before collapsing into a heap of dissipating shadows.
The queen's expression turned icy as she surveyed the scene. "Impressive," she admitted, though her tone was dripping with disdain. "But you are far from victorious."
With a wave of her hand, she unleashed a pulse of dark energy that rippled through the room, knocking us off our feet. As we scrambled to recover, she stepped back into a swirling vortex of magic, her form vanishing into the shadows.
The room fell silent for a moment, save for our ragged breathing. I pushed myself to my feet, glancing at my companions. "Is everyone okay?"
Hamish grunted, dusting himself off. "Still kickin'. Barely."
Snow nodded, her staff glowing faintly as she prepared to heal Chaucer's burns. Chaucer, for his part, was grinning through the pain, clearly enjoying the chaos despite his injuries.
Langston stood, his face pale but determined, gripping his taser tighter. "She's gone, but for how long? This dark magic, it's the kind I've always feared, the kind worth fighting," he said, his analytical tone edged with newfound aggression, recalling his alley brawl from months ago.
I gazed at Langston. "That flashbang was a fantastic idea, Langston. Well done."
He remained silent, shrugging while staring at the magnificent throne, then added, "...I didn't realize you lot would fight magical beings like this. Taking out these abominations is something I can support wholeheartedly."
That left a bad taste in my mouth, but I told him, "Not all magic is good. When a political terrorist threatens a city with bombs, is it Science's fault for inventing that bomb? I would think not. Just as it takes good people to stop bad ones, it takes good uses of magic to stop bad uses of magic."
Those words seemed to click for Langston. He didn't make a sarcastic face, just started sorting his satchel of tools, pulling out a taser. "Muh," he said noncommittally, but wiggled his taser at Chaucer, "Can I show you a shock worth writing about?"
Chaucer moved toward Langston but was stopped by Hamish's hand on his chest, "...That's no ballad you want to hear, poet."
Langston snickered quietly to himself.
The air crackled with tension as the sound of fluttering wings and a rising, shrill whistle filled the throne room. From every shadowed corner, they emerged—an army of fae warriors, clad in gleaming, organic armor that seemed to shift and shimmer in the dim light. Their weapons, tiny by mortal standards but wickedly sharp and glowing with enchantments, gleamed with menace.
Snow was the first to notice the change. Her staff's light flickered uncertainly as she glanced at the approaching army, her face pale. "Robert," she said, her voice unsteady, "do they... seem bigger to you?"
I turned my head sharply. It wasn't just the fae, the room itself seemed to loom taller, the throne farther away, and even my companions appeared off. My heart sank. "We've been shrunk," I muttered, gripping my weapons tightly, "The Sanctum must've done this when the Queen vanished. This is their territory, and we are now adhering to their rules."
Hamish's lips curled into a scowl. "Tch. They think making us smaller evens the odds. They've got another thing coming."
Before I could respond, the fae army surged forward. They were armed with glowing blades, and magic coursed through their ranks. The room became a battlefield of chaos.
Snow raised her staff, her voice ringing with determination as she summoned a torrent of water from the air around her. The liquid surged forward in a wave, flooding the throne room's lower levels and forcing many of the fae to take flight, the surge flung those caught in its wake back, their tiny weapons clattering to the ground.
"Good call, Snow! Keep them off balance," I said.
Hamish didn't wait for further instructions. He charged into the fray, his twin shortswords flashing as they caught the light from Snow's spell, his movements precise as he parried incoming strikes and retaliated with quick, brutal efficiency.
A fae warrior lunged at him, but Hamish twisted, bringing one blade up in a sweeping arc that sent the attacker sprawling, with a deft motion, he followed up with a scissor strike, taking out two more who dared to flank him.
Meanwhile, Chaucer darted through the melee like a shadow, his small form nearly impossible to track amid the chaos. He leaped onto a fae archer's back, driving his blade into its shoulder before flipping off and landing gracefully. "Your arrows fly straighter than your wit, you witless twig!" he taunted, his voice cool and cutting, ducking under another strike and vanishing into the fray.
No one was surprised to find Langston running. But he wasn't running aimlessly, he darted between columns and fallen debris, always staying just out of reach of the fae, every so often, he stopped, whipped out his taser, and jabbed it into an unsuspecting fairy's side. The resulting jolt sent them crumpling to the ground, twitching and out of the fight.
"Langston!" I called out, deflecting a series of spells with a gust of wind. "Quit playing around and stick with the group!"
Langston barely glanced back, smirking. "Playing? This is tactical genius, digsite guy!" He jabbed another fairy, who let out a sharp yelp before collapsing.
Snow, though exhausted, continued casting. She raised another wave of water, sending it crashing into a group of advancing fae, her hands trembled as she pulled out a mana potion and downed it quickly. "There are too many," she murmured, her voice strained.
I nodded, feeling the same pressure. I raised my hands and summoned a volley of light missiles, each one splitting midair and targeting a different fairy, the room lit up with their impacts, scattering the fae and giving us a momentary reprieve.
Just as the situation appeared to be shifting, a louder, sharper, and more commanding whistle blew again. The fae froze in place, parting as a new figure strode into the room.
The General.
He was unlike the rest. He stood taller, broader, and exuded an aura of pure martial prowess, his dark skin shimmered with a magical glow, and his armor, intricate and ceremonial, marked him as a warrior of great renown among the fae. In his hand, he carried a blade almost as long as he was tall, pulsing with raw power.
The general's piercing gaze swept over us, his expression cold and calculating. "Enough of this," he said, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the room. "You trespassers dare to defile our sacred halls. I will not allow it."
He pointed his blade at Hamish. "You. The swordsman. You've impressed me. I challenge you to a duel. One-on-one. Let us see if you can match the might of a true warrior."
Hamish's lips twisted into a feral grin. "Is that so? Well, I don't back down from a challenge." The crystalline edges I'd enchanted on his swords pulsed red, reflecting the fierce determination burning in his mind.
Snow grabbed his arm, her eyes wide with concern. "Hamish, you don't have to do this. It's a trap—he's trying to isolate you."
Hamish shrugged her off gently. "Aye, lass, maybe he is. But I've got my pride, I won't let any runt think they're superior to me."
Before anyone could stop him, Hamish stepped forward, his swords gleaming, their red-glowing edges cutting the air. The general nodded approvingly, raising his own blade.
The duel began.
The general moved swiftly, his blade a blur as he launched a series of strikes at Hamish. Each blow was calculated, precise, and deadly, Hamish met the attacks head-on, his dual swords clashing against the general's single blade in a symphony of steel.
The two warriors were evenly matched, their skills and determination pushing each other to the limit. Hamish's footwork was impeccable, his movements fluid and deliberate, but the general was relentless, his strikes coming faster and harder as the duel dragged on.
Then it happened. The general feinted, drawing Hamish into a strike that left his leg exposed, the fae warrior's blade slashed across Hamish's thigh, a deep wound that sent him stumbling.
"Hamish!" Snow cried, but she held her ground, knowing she couldn't interfere.
Hamish gritted his teeth, blood soaking his pants as he steadied himself. "Nice trick," he growled, his voice tight with pain. "But I've got one of my own."
With a roar, he surged forward, using his injury to feint a stumble. The general moved in for the kill, but Hamish was ready, he crossed his blades in a scissor motion, catching the general's weapon and twisting it from his grasp. In the same motion, he brought both swords down in a brutal strike, severing the general's head from his shoulders.
The fae army gasped collectively, their morale shattered as their leader fell. Hamish stood over the General's body, blood dripping from his leg but triumph burning in his eyes. "That's how you end a fight," he muttered, limping back toward us.
Snow rushed forward, pulling out her staff and a healing potion. "Sit down before you bleed out," she scolded, her hands glowing with magic.
Hamish smirked weakly as he sat. "Aye, lass. You've earned the right to boss me around, just fix me up quick. I've got more fight left in me."
Snow's magic worked quickly, her face tight with concentration as she channeled healing energy into Hamish's wound. "You're lucky he didn't take your leg clean off," she muttered, her voice stern but soft.
Hamish winced as the light began mending his torn flesh. "Aye, but he won't be taking anything else from anyone." He glanced at the general's lifeless body, his lips twitching into a victorious smirk.
Chaucer, crouched behind a shattered section of the wall, cautiously peered over. "Well, that was a masterstroke of carnage," he drawled, brushing soot from his coat. "Though the head-roll was a tad messy, even for my taste."
Hamish shot him a look, his eyes sharp but amused. "Next time, rat, you take the duel."
Chaucer straightened, dusting off his sleeves. "I'd rather weave the saga than swing the steel, old man."
Langston, standing further back, folded his arms, his face unreadable. "You all do realize this isn't over, right? These fae aren't going to give up just because you took out one flashy warrior."
I nodded, my eyes scanning the disorganized fae who lingered, watching us with a mix of fear and defiance. "He's right," I said grimly. "They've lost their leader, but the Queen's still out there. She's their anchor, if we don't deal with her, they'll regroup."
Hamish tested his leg and stood, despite Snow's protests. "Then let's finish it."
Before I could reply, the room trembled, a pulse of magic reverberating through the air like a silent scream. The torches dimmed, their light flickering ominously as a chilling presence descended upon us.
"She's coming back," I said, my voice low and steady. I turned to the others, my grip tightening on my weapons. "Get ready. This isn't over yet."
Snow rose to her feet, her staff glowing faintly. Chaucer muttered, "Time for the final verse," as he drew his daggers, his tail flicking with anticipation. Langston checked his taser and adjusted his bag, his mouth set in a grim line.
And then, the throne room's massive stained-glass windows shattered outward, shards of glowing, enchanted glass cascading like deadly rain. The Queen's voice echoed through the air, sharp and venomous. "You dare murder my subjects in my own throne room?! PREPARE YOURSELVES!"
The Fairy Queen's transformation was as horrific as it was awe-inspiring. The regal black garments she had worn became frayed and tattered, whipped by an unseen wind that carried the weight of pure malevolence, her eyes glowed fiercely red, twin beacons of unrelenting fury that seemed to bore into our souls.
The once-elegant figure now radiated a dark energy that pulsed with hate, veiled in a miasma of inky hues, refracting light into jagged obsidian streaks, a suffocating pulse of malice clawed at my lungs, heavy as molten lead.
The air itself seemed to tremble as her voice, now a guttural, otherworldly growl, echoed through the chamber. "You dare desecrate my sanctum? You dare challenge me? Your arrogance will be your undoing."
I glanced at my team. Hamish tightened his grip on his twin shortswords, his face set in grim determination. Snow steadied herself, her staff glowing faintly as she prepared her magic.
Chaucer, still favoring a shoulder bruised from earlier combat, crouched low, his eyes scanning the queen for any weakness. Even Langston had drawn his taser, though the tremor in his hand betrayed his nerves.
The queen didn't wait. With a screech that made my ears ring, she launched herself toward us in a blur of black and red, her claws raking through the air. I barely had time to raise a shield of wind before her attack connected, the sheer force of it sending me skidding backward across the stone floor, a tingling sensation in my sinuses from her magic.
Hamish charged forward with a roar, his blades a flurry of steel as he aimed for her midsection. The queen deflected his strikes with shocking speed, her claws meeting his steel in a shower of sparks, she twisted midair, lashing out with a kick that sent him stumbling.
Snow raised her staff, summoning a wave of water that surged toward the queen. It hit her squarely, forcing her back, but the queen retaliated with a pulse of dark energy that rippled outward, slamming into Snow and sending her flying. She hit the wall with a sickening thud and crumpled to the ground, her staff clattering beside her.
"Snow!" I shouted, my heart lurching, but I couldn't afford to look away. The queen turned her gaze on me, and I felt the full weight of her wrath bearing down.
I countered with a barrage of light missiles, dozens of them splitting midair to target her from all angles. The queen shrieked as they struck, each one leaving scorch marks across her shadowy form. But she didn't falter, instead, she raised her hands, and tendrils of darkness erupted from the ground, snaking toward me with terrifying speed.
I spun my shillelagh, channeling wind magic to deflect the tendrils, but one caught me by the ankle, yanking me off my feet. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from my lungs.
Langston, to his credit, took advantage of the distraction. He darted forward, taser in hand, and jabbed it into one of the queen's tendrils, a crackle of electricity sending it recoiling, freeing me. But the queen's gaze snapped to Langston, her expression murderous.
"You insignificant worm," she hissed, her voice like nails on glass.
Langston froze, his bravado evaporating as the queen raised a hand, dark energy gathering in her palm. Before she could unleash it, Chaucer leapt from the shadows, his small frame a blur as he drove one of his daggers into the queen's arm. "Take that, you shadow-spawned harpy!" he snarled, his tone icy and sharp. She screeched, her attack dissipating as she swatted at him like an insect.
Chaucer darted away, narrowly avoiding her claws, but not before a blast of shadowy energy grazed him. He hissed in pain, retreating behind a fallen column to nurse the burns on his fur.
"Keep her busy!" I shouted, forcing myself to my feet. I channeled my magic into the ground, summoning vines to entangle the queen's legs, they wrapped around her, holding her in place for a moment, but she tore through them with ease, her claws slicing through the thick greenery like paper.
Hamish saw his chance. With a bellow, he charged again, his blades flashing in the dim light. He feinted left, drawing her attention, before pivoting and striking from the right, his swords bit into her side, eliciting a furious screech. The queen lashed out, her claws raking across his thigh, but Hamish didn't stop, he pressed the attack, driving her back step by step.
I joined him, my shillelagh glowing with light as I swung it in a wide arc. The queen dodged, but the glow of the magic disoriented her for a split second, enough for Hamish to land another strike.
Langston, emboldened by our momentum, ran forward again, this time hurling a makeshift flashbang he had cobbled together from his satchel, overloading his taser in some clever way, it detonated with a blinding burst of light and sound, and the queen reeled, her screeches filling the chamber.
"Now, Chaucer!" I shouted.
From the rafters, Chaucer launched himself in a daring dive, falling like a furry meteor streaking with radiant fury, his small frame a blur of precision. As he plummeted, I gestured to his daggers, rapidly imbuing them with a double light spell, imbuing them with intense radiant energy.
The queen, still disoriented, didn't see him coming until it was too late. He landed on her back, driving his dagger deep into the shadowy mass where her heart should have been, near tearing her dark form in two, split by a magical cleaver of light.
The queen froze, her wings faltering. For a moment, it seemed as though the entire chamber held its breath. Then, with a final, ear-splitting shriek, the queen collapsed, her body disintegrating into a cloud of dark mist that slowly dissipated into nothingness.
Chaucer landed lightly on the ground, panting and clutching his injured side. "A fine end to a wretched tale," he rasped, his voice cool despite the exhaustion.
Hamish limped over to him, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Good work, rat. You earned that one."
I moved forward, focusing my attention on the location where the queen had collapsed. The room had become eerily quiet, as the oppressive weight of her presence finally subsided. I turned to Snow, who was stirring weakly, and hurried to her side.
"You okay?" I asked, helping her sit up.
She nodded, though her face was pale. "Did...did we win?" Her question made me think of another movie I had seen in another life, called Rat Race.
Langston, rubbing his head where he'd hit the wall, joined us. "So... is it over?" he asked, his tone uncertain.
"Seems so..." I glanced around the chamber.
As the dark mist parted, the queen's treasures began to appear from thin air. Gold and silver coins gleamed beside orichalcum bars, while fist-sized jewels and uncut jade pillars framed enchanted weapons, their steel clinking softly.
We stumbled toward it, the five of us, encircling the Queen's Hoard. We silently gazed at the staggering wealth.
But something caught my eye. Something that didn't belong among the typical treasures. Something that made my heart stop.
There was then a sharp pop, the sound of an enchantment breaking that had isolated us, and after the queen's death, Moira's voice screamed through my mind, "ROBERT! ROBERT! WHERE ARE YOU?! ANSWER ME!"
I covered my ears, wincing as Hamish and Snow reacted similarly, while Chaucer and Langston looked on in confusion, Moira's fear palpable as she'd been unable to reach us.
I tried to respond, but my focus kept pulling back to what I'd spotted in the treasure pile. Something impossible. Something that shouldn't exist in this realm.
The others hadn't noticed it yet.
They were still celebrating our victory, unaware that what we'd just found might change everything we thought we knew about this Sanctum.