Chapter 8 – Where Whimsy Calls Home

  Djanara

  The gnome did something weird with the tree, and between two mulberry bushes, Djanara saw it for the first time.

  The Fae Wilds.

  It really was like Leila said.

  A shimmering tear between the brush revealed a forest of pink-purple dreams: vivid blue grass and violet soil; silvered tree trunks and spiraling lights; fuschia-tinged leaves and lavender-capped mushrooms. It mirrored the normal forest beyond, but was altogether different, joyfully so.

  Jezza stepped through first, seemed to blur and fade through the tear, then stopped on the other side, waiting.

  “Come on through,” Jezza said, “your armor should be fine. Well, it’ll sort itself out, at least.”

  Djanara didn’t know why that’d be different, but she braced herself and stepped between the mulberry bush. It felt like being wrapped in wool all over and dunked through honey, only to fumble forward as soon as it got comfy. She caught herself before falling forward, only for her legs to give out and make her land on her ass anyway.

  “Damnit!” Djanara cursed, putting her paws into the silver-violet soil to stand. She stopped when a faint giggle sounded from above, looked for the source.

  Woah.

  That’s a fairy!

  A twinkling ball of golden light – could fit in her paw – fluttered with four translucent wings overhead. Now that they were fully immersed in the Wilds, the fog set in; a moody haze that blanketed the pink-purple canopy. There were more swirling lights in the distance. More fairies, fluttering amongst the intimate boughs of dreamleaves.

  The golden fairy above swirled an orbit, showering them with a warm dust that shimmered with mischief.

  Djanara felt a shift inside. It was like becoming smaller, yet her size stayed the same. A diminishing feeling flooded through her arms and legs, and suddenly, her metal armor felt heavier. The dust gathered around each of the buckles and clasps, and all at once, the armor came free! This left Djanara in just a brown tunic and slacks, surrounded by plates of metal.

  The dust also gathered around Jezza, who looked far more relaxed about the whole thing. Her own magister’s robes changed, now. They shifted in form to a simpler one, white with blue trim.

  “What happened?” Djanara asked, feeling strange.

  “This enclave does this to Terrans,” Jezza explained. “They put you back close to how you were before you did any fighting. Helps with the mood of the place. Look: I’m an arcanist again!”

  Djanara stood. She didn’t feel any balance issues; but she certainly didn’t feel quite as strong either.

  “We’re newbies?” Djanara asked. For some reason, she was thinking back to her younger days training with weapons.

  “Well,” Jezza hesitated, “it’s more illusory. Terran forms are very stable, so we’re more like squished down versions of ourselves. Try tossing your armor back through. It’s polite.”

  Well, wouldn’t want to piss off the fae on their turf. And if she could still toss shit like this –

  “Got it!” Djanara announced, giving Jezza a startle. The wolf-folk paid no mind, she put her hands on her salt-worn breastplate, found she had little issue chucking it right back through those bushes. It disappeared. With a cackle, she grabbed her boots and did the same. Yeah. Not as strong. Still strong.

  Jezza was laughing at the display, said: “that’s right! I think it hits people who use mana a little harder. Other fae domains do different things, but we’ll go back to normal when we leave.”

  Being unarmored felt nostalgic. It took her right back there, in the tent with Leila.

  What good times. Wait, if this was before any fighting, would her tail-

  “Hey,” Djanara blurted, looking over her shoulder. Still gone.

  “Sorry,” Jezza said. “Stability cuts both ways – I uh, I guess it makes sense you’d miss your tail, huh?”

  “Yeah, damnit,” Djanara sighed, “I lost it in one of my first battles. Still feel it, too.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  You’re in fairyland. Ah yeah, you’re right Leila!

  “Do you think this Lucette could?” Djanara asked.

  “Well,” Jezza looked thoughtful. Then, seemed to realize something that brought her immense relief. She said: “I don’t know. We’ll have to ask her.”

  “You don’t know?” Djanara repeated. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that, ever!”

  “It’s pretty fucking great!” Jezza bounced once. Twice. Shouted: “I don’t know!”

  The fairies laughed. Djanara laughed. Jezza laughed, started running toward the distant lights. Djanara followed, failed to fight her urge to pitch onto all fours and bound alongside. The fae flew overhead, emitting joyous twinkles.

  The colored lights in the distance neared, revealing they belonged to branchwork buildings; homes lovingly built from silvered wood and pale blue brushwork. Bridges connected doorways, patios, and windows all along the canopy. Despite the haze and the darkened skies, the enclave glowed inviting welcomes for their approach.

  “There are people here?” Djanara asked, spotting movement. There were people of all races, wearing expressive clothing and happy faces. They went from home to home, putting up pink-hued holly decorations.

  “From all over Terria,” Jezza confirmed. “That wasn’t the only entrance. And it’s a well-kept secret.”

  Djanara craned her neck upward, seeing the lip of a building above.

  “How do we get up?” Djanara said. She looked around for stairs, but Jezza just laughed.

  “Ask nicely!” Jezza pointed to the fairies overhead.

  Do you remember how? Leila would’ve loved this. Fairies! Actual fairies!

  Djanara looked at the shimmering sprites and waved her paws at them.

  “Um,” Djanara asked, “can you put me up there, please?”

  The fae descended on her, and a weightlessness encompassed her. She floated up, as did Jezza, the fairies danced as they were gently nestled on the upper level of the enclave. Settling her feet on the wood, she saw several of the inhabitants working their way up to them.

  “Wait, it’s you,” one of them said to Jezza, a small elven woman. She narrowed her eyes, then smiled: “you found your true name! Don’t tell me!”

  “Still starts with a J,” Jezza said with a grin. “Mom got real close.”

  The elf put her fingers on her temples, then exclaimed: “Jezza!”

  “That’s right!” Jezza chimed. General excitement followed, before the gnome gestured her way.

  “Zephyr, This is my friend Djanara!” Jezza began.

  “You can call me Dee-jay!” Djanara interrupted. She couldn’t help it; she liked that one. The gnome looked stunned, but the elven girl, Zephyr, waved at her.

  “Hello Dee-jay!” Zephyr said. “You two should go tell Lucette you’re here. She’s in the common hall!”

  “We’ll go right there,” Jezza said. “Can you go let Clover know I’m back?”

  Zephyr nodded, moving around the trunk out of sight, while Jezza led Djanara the other direction. They crossed a bridge over the blue fields below, worked their way toward the center of the enclave, where the biggest building waited.

  Large, propped upon a wooden platform secured between two great trunks, the common hall hummed with joyous life. The silvery wood reflected inviting hues across the many bridges leading to its ample patio. In front of its opened doors, an evergreen emerged through the platform, grown through a hole cut for this very purpose. And in this evergreen’s branches were half a dozen gnomes, crawling up and down to place glass and wood decorations.

  A squirrel-folk too. He seemed to be having fun chasing one of the gnomes around the tree.

  They moved around the evergreen, through the open doors, and inside the massive building, things were cozier than anticipated. It had been sectioned off, two doors in the small yet homey entryway. Signs were above, one with some letters, the other with a drawing of a bed. Jezza moved toward the bed door, then paused for a moment.

  “Lucette is the greater fairy of this territory,” Jezza said. “Fae magic is kind of its own thing, separate from Terria’s. Very personal to the territory. This one just happens to be a very, very kind one.”

  Yeah, must be, to do all this.

  “What should I say?” Djanara asked.

  “She’ll want to hear your story,” Jezza said. “You should tell her.”

  Djanara wasn’t quite sure what to think of that but followed Jezza inside anyway.

  The room was dimly lit by low-glowing pink motes, casting the deep blue walls with ethereal shades. Two long rows of silver-wooded beds arranged themselves on either side of the central walkway. Along one wall, multiple tables and shelves, laden with books and supplies for the arts. Many of the beds were occupied, their inhabitants napping or stirring softly.

  It was quiet here. So nicely quiet.

  Near one of the beds, Djanara spotted Lucette.

  Had to be her. That was a greater fairy because she was a big fairy, right?

  Lucette’s silver hair flowed down her back like the rivers, seeming as though submerged within the current. Her pale skin and pink-purple eyes radiated a soft glow that made her cyan dress shimmer with mystery. Two royally blue butterfly wings lay folded upon her back.

  “Welcome back, Jezza,” Lucette said, with voice like lovely crystals. “We’ve missed you all this time.”

  Jezza and Djanara approached, the gnome motioning toward Djanara.

  “I brought someone new,” Jezza said, “I hope that’s okay.”

  Lucette lowered her head with grace, saying: “the trees gave me a clue. Welcome, Dee-jay.”

  “Um, hiya,” Djanara responded. Memories of denmothers. So sweet. “Thanks for – this.”

  “You are quite welcome,” Lucette said. “Terria can often be an overwhelming place. People who need somewhere away from it wind up finding their way here. Anyone may stay, so long as they partake in the arts.”

  Djanara fidgeted, not sure what to say exactly.

  “I thought the fae were tricksters,” Djanara finally blurted. Lucette gave a quiet laugh.

  “Anyone who has no business here tends to turn around once they find their powers sapped,” Lucette said. “Still, we’re careful not to expose ourselves. This is a vulnerable place.”

  Djanara nodded, feeling like she should keep things quiet.

  “Tell me, Dee-jay,” Lucette finally continued, “would you like to share the tales of your beginnings?”

  The wolf-folk realized she did. Desperately so.

  She cast a glance at Jezza.

  “I’m gonna go look for Clover,” Jezza announced. “You’ll see me around!”

  Jezza, giving a last wave, hurried out of the bedroom, leaving Djanara alone with the patient fae.

  Lucette listened to Djanara, then, in a manner she hadn’t been for many decades. And they spoke, but not of hard challenges in Terria, but of happy times in early years.

  Before it all got so hard. Before she had to become harder. Before Leila went away. Before the phantom tail.

  When the stories were bright. When they were joyful. When they spoke of pink-purple places where whimsy calls home.