They walked into the castle grounds. Apparently there was no one stationed at the gate that opened it for them. The castle would have passed for ordinary except that it was draped with roses and lilies, orchids and nightshade as though they were an ornate thread on a gown.

On either side of them, a blanket of sunflower was decked with a pattern of dahlia forming the words 'No rush'. The fusion of the rich, spicy, and floral aroma was heady, making Clythia wrinkle her nose.

Kay snorted and mumbled something like, “What a poppycock notion.”

“Are we in the right place?” Morven turned to the werewolf, “This feels like a trap.”

For a palace, it was eerily quiet. It didn’t look as though they were in the king’s castle, rather the lair of a beast.

The human girl sneezed, her blonde hair fluttering to her face as she did so. When she swatted it off her face, her nose was red and her eyes were watery.

She sneezed again. "I'm allergic to pollen.", she stuttered out to her king.

“Have you brought your medicine?” Kay murmured to her, resting his palms on her shoulders and looking at her with worry.

She shook her head, unable to form words as sneeze after sneeze bombarded her.

“Here.” Clythia pulled out a kerchief from her ring and waved it at Kay.

For a moment, Kay gawked at Clythia as though he was dreaming of her generosity, until the next sneeze put him out of his trance. “Is it cursed?” he asked her, squinting one eye.

Clythia tossed him a look of mystery. “Is it?”

Kay’s jaw ticked. Reluctant, he snatched the kerchief from her hand, tossing a glance at Clythia that promised vengeance if it was tainted. He handed it to the human who was now shaking vigorously with a torrent of sneezes, turning into a ball of scarlet, eyes weeping.

“Thank you,” Kay said after he assessed the human girl and was half-certain the kerchief bore no curse or hex.

It wasn’t out of kindness but out of convenience that Clythia did this. Though she couldn’t fill the cracks between her and the other rulers, she could smooth the rough edges a tad until they parted ways after getting answers in Stormia. She wasn’t planning on being too kind, but rather, when they thought of their enemies, she wouldn’t be at the very top of their list.

Clythia wasn’t a fool to think that Kay had forgotten how she murdered one of his companions in front of him, despite it being entirely the human’s fault. She was also certain he would keep his promise of vengeance. Humans might be weak, but they are not the merciful sort; even when they were cursed with a fleeting lifespan, they tended to hold a grudge. That was what her mother used to say.

They reached an oak gate, one of her guards stretched her hand to open it but before her palms reached the silver knob, it creaked open.

This time, it was Modyr, looking more glorious than ever, out of his usual black attire. He was porcelain-skinned with high cheekbones and a stark jawline. A few strands of dark hair floated on his forehead above slightly slanted eyes, his lips were red like a ruby, and his ears were sharply pointed; broad shoulders tapered down to a slender frame.

Perhaps Clythia was imagining it, but the roses that lingered on the walls seemed to glow in his presence. Finally, it seemed the blooms had found their king.

He wore a long mossy green dress with a golden sash wrapped around his waist. Down his neck, dark lines disappeared through the fabric. On top of his head, a circlet of diamond sat, catching the faint glow emitting from the room.

“Is it me, or is every ruler we have seen so far the epitome of beauty?” a werewolf whispered to another.

Clythia never counted herself as beautiful, or never bothered to care. She only played with her appearance when she felt like wandering in the market. A smile tugged on her lips, which Modyr took as a welcome and reciprocated with a ghost of a grin.

“Welcome.” Modyr widened the door, and they stepped in one by one.

“You really know how to accept guests,” Kay gritted out, gaining a surprised look from the farcie king. “Rulers from four continents made their way to your land, and you don’t even accept them properly. What do you take us for, peasants?”

Modyr shrugged, closing the gate as the last person ambled in. “I don’t remember inviting you,” he said. His gaze shifted to Glythia. “You rather insisted. You treated yourselves as peasants by not bringing your prized animals to carry you,” he said, the last part etched with bafflement and judgment.

The walls were creamy, and orbs of orange were chiseled into the corners of the walls, showering the room with light. The inside resembled a manor rather than a castle, with its low roof and arrangements.

“Now, is there any place to rest our feet?” Glythia asked him.

Some giggled at the intentional jab.

Modyr raised a hand to a staircase. The railing was bronze, entwined with daffodils. As they began climbing the steps, the human girl’s sneezing was triggered.

The first landing was a large area of a dining hall, high-backed chairs, a long table, and a scarlet rug.

“Where are your guards and servants?” Clythia craned her neck to look at the faerie who was stepping up behind.

His nostrils flared, not in anger, but as if he were warring with himself about whether to disclose the answer. For a moment, Clythia thought he was going to say nothing, but then he answered, “Mutiny.”

Chairs scraped as the rulers settled first and those second in rank took the remaining seats. Modyr sat at the head of the table, Clythia took the seat immediately to his left; Kay sat on his right. Glythia sat beside her, and Morven took the seat beside the Prime.

“Why?” Her tone was more concerned than she had intended.

Hurt flashed in his eyes before it was gone in a wink. “The Shadow,” he said. “It poisoned our magic. It took more than we anticipated — I anticipated. The faeries didn’t take that lightly. And now I have a continent that despises my reign, and my servants left me, except for the three you left in the forest,” he glanced accusatorily at the four rulers.

“Does that mean you aren’t king anymore?” Morven leaned forward, clasping pale fingers together.

Modyr looked at the vampire king, but his gaze held no intensity; rather, he seemed lost, recalling a distant memory. “I am the king of Nadir and always will be until I bear a son and he comes of age.”

“A son?” Disbelief rippled in Clythia.

“That’s the custom among faeries,” he said; given her look, he added, “I didn’t forge the law, but my long-dead ancestors and the binding magic of my throne say so.”

Modyr had never taken a wife, never had sons or daughters in his long existence. He wasn’t as old as Morven or Hypaxia, but he had lived a fair amount of centuries.

Perhaps he took men for lovers or was uninterested, but whatever the case, even with the binding magic of his throne, his line was in danger.

“That’s very backward,” Kay muttered, exchanging glances with the humans.

“No one asked your opinion, human,” the faerie king spat. “And do I need to remind you, you are only a pilgrim?” For the record, Kay didn’t back down but met the faerie’s steel stare with iron.

The room succumbed to silence for a few seconds until Glythia broke the awkward air. “This may be a good time for you to go to Stormia with us. There, we will find the answer for all this.”

Modyr’s gaze flicked to Clythia. “What do you think?”

Clythia was taken aback. Glythia had said in the letter Modyr would be joining them if she was able to convince him.

Weird.

Or was the faerie king trying to pull a game that would benefit him, a game concealed by flattery.

“Why are you asking me?” Clythia frowned.

“Because, last time you were right. If it weren’t for them,” his hand indicated Kay and Glythia, “we would have gone to Stormia, would have found the answer, and none of this would have happened.”

“Why are you letting me decide what you should do?” Clythia asked him, peering through his coal eyes. “Leaving your kingdom especially when your subjects are rebelling is a terrible idea, and you have to choose which one is more terrible, that or Stormia. And I don't have to have a say on it, it is your problem.”

The faerie king wasn’t offended by her last remark. “How did your subjects remain loyal to you?” His gaze softened, hurt and something else dancing in his features. “DavinSaw expends magic as though it were a vault with infinite treasure.”

“They gave me a hard time, believe me,” Clythia said, remembering how her people mocked and despised her actions in the market.

“Just to remind you two,” Kay spoke, “I too have made a covenant with the Shadow.”

“I know.” Modyr’s lips formed a thin line. “At the very worst, you would lose your crops, the air turns hostile, and with the covenant, everything will be back to how it was. You don’t have to worry about wielding magic three times a day,” his voice was rising, “or fearing it would drive you mad, or encountering strange creatures and being yoked to them.”

“Are you yoked with strange creatures?” Clythia blurted out before she could put a bridle on her mouth.

“Not I,” the faerie replied. “But some did.”

He didn’t elaborate further, and another wave of grief passed his features. Clythia wanted to pry further but she didn’t want to raise questions on why she was too interested in the yoking subject.

“If we had kept constant communication with each other, this wouldn’t have happened,” Morven was looking at Clythia when he spoke, as though this was her fault all along.

“Why are you looking at me? I didn’t forge the law.” Quoting Modyr, she earned a gut-fluttering grin from him.

“Then it should change,” Morven pressed on. “I know about the Shadow more than any of you. How Zyvern was bathed in blood because of it.”

“Blood—isn’t that your version of paradise, vampire?” Clythia chimed in, with a bite in her tone. “Where was your vote when I said we needed to go to Stormia at that emergency meeting?” She pointed a finger at him. “For someone who has lived longer than any of us here, you don’t smell trouble when it knocks on your door,” fury was rising like a tide in her. “Why did you come alone?”

“Because I don’t want to risk my subjects in a place as dangerous as Stormia,” Morven frowned. “Not even the ones that would be a great help. Because they will be a danger to you,” his gaze flew to the humans.

“I find that hard to believe.” A chuckle rolled from her throat. “You did it for the excitement, for the thrill it brings you in the face of danger. Like your travels through the skies alone, you believed this to be one of your endeavors. This is not a game, vampire,” she leaned to the side, so she could have a better view given the looming figure of Glythia. “Before you blame any of the rulers in here or elsewhere, ask yourself if you have done enough for Zyvern.”

The silence that followed her seething statement surpassed the one caused by the faerie king. Morven’s nostrils were flaring; she could see his mind reeling as he considered how to respond, or if he should respond at all, but he remained silent.

“What matters now is what we should do next?” Glythia began. “I’m sure we all have things to blame one another for, but for once we have come together in the face of a crisis, we shouldn’t spend our precious time at each other’s throats.” He turned to Morven. “So, what do we know about Stormia?”

It took him a while to peel away his gaze from Clythia. “My father was the one who struck the bargain with the Sovereign, revealing that if no one snooped about Stormia, nothing dangerous would befall us,” he looked around. “And that was a fair bargain for them, because they got—we got—a peace out of it.”

“Has anyone ever attempted to go to Stormia?” Modyr asked, twirling his ring absent-mindedly.

“The curious sorts,” Morven scrunched his face as if he was rummaging through a very distant memory. “And they never came back. No one dared after that.”

“Where did this Sovereign come from in the first place?” Clythia asked. “Understanding them might help us get the gist of whatever trap is waiting for us in Stormia.”

“Understanding her,” Glythia corrected her.

She rolled her eyes. “Not this again,” she muttered.

“Whether you believe it or not, my ancestors used to communicate with her in the astral realm,” the Prime continued. It wasn’t only Clythia; as always, doubt was transparent on the rulers’ faces, save for Kay, whose expression was unreadable.

“What was the nature of the communication?” Modyr asked, still playing with his emerald ring.

“I don’t think it entails anything of importance. But,” the Prime gasped, and excitement lit his face, “my mother used to tell me how the Sovereign was close with my great-grandmother. And she also told me that the Sovereign, despite being an omniscient being, seldom exercised that power. The Sovereign believed that if she accessed knowledge all the time, her endless life would be filled with boredom.”

“That would be boring. It is hard to blame... her,” Morven said, toning the last word with a sprinkle of skepticism.

“Some people have power they can’t stomach,” Kay said, and Clythia nodded in agreement.

“What if that was the case of the blight occurring?” Modyr suggested. “The Sovereign, in fear of boredom, didn’t see it coming, intentionally.”

Clythia shook her head. “Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said, staring into the blue eyes of the werewolf king. “That is a nice tale, but do we really know it’s the right tale?”

He moved an inch towards her, reminding her of his mountainous figure in the astral plane. “Do you have any better theory?”

No, she didn’t. From the arcane community, it was Ilyana who struck the bargain with the Sovereign and she didn’t convey anything of importance regarding the Sovereign, only what the vampire king had said.

“All I am saying is, we are venturing to Stormia and we can’t do it with wrong assumptions,” given the look on Glythia’s face, she added. “It could be the right one, but we don’t know that.”

“Unless we find a better explanation, that’s the best we got,” Morven conceded.

Kay cleared his throat, as though to remind all of them that he was also part of the conversation. “Have any of you encountered strange things with the Shadow? Like the strange creatures you mentioned,” he said to Modyr. “Because I have, and I sensed animosity between the Shadow and the Sovereign. Perhaps we could get a better perspective of the Sovereign from the Shadow’s lenses too. Maybe make the Shadow spill secrets of the Sovereign.”