Tristan gripped his amulet, praying to the seven gods that the Archon would reach out and contact him. Needing to tell him what happened. He kept glancing at Hurvun’s body – breathing shallowly in Felicity’s extradimensional space. “I have to keep it open,” she had explained, “Because otherwise there’s no air in there and he’d suffocate.”

  She was sitting atop the horse next to and trailing just behind Tristan’s mount. She was quiet, but Tristan was acutely aware of her presence. But he did not want to talk. He just wanted the Archon to hurry up and contact him. It was just about to be the normal time they spoke-

  Tristan felt the amulet vibrating, and gripped it tightly, “Yes. I’m here.”

  “What happened?” Obadai Grimtome asked. “The short version. Go.”

  “Hunted demonic dragon. Ambushed by Black Company. Killed them. Got to manor. Grandfather named me family heir and gave me the small, black star. Confronted fath- Fawkes. Fawkes admitted to sending mercenaries to kill me. We fought, grandfather was badly injured, and I killed Fawkes.”

  “That…shit, the counternarrative is already being put in place. Looks like Gisele Damadan was aligned with Fawkes’ plans, and the mercenaries reported to her. She already put her spin on the situation in the court’s eyes – you came home from the dragon hunt having killed your grandfather on the road, slaughtered mercenaries your father hired to protect the manor, and then killed Fawkes – taking his body for some foul, Elf ritual. Her words, not mine. I can’t counter the narrative – and I’ve got my own problems. I can’t clear you with divination. Suffice to say, I’m a bit of hot water myself here since I helped you out; if I advocate for you more, I might let something slip.”

  “I have his mark though, that has to count for something.” Tristan felt his breath coming in short gasps; not out of nerves or exhaustion, but rather a feeling of being trapped, in a way. Trapped by fate, or destiny, or his family ties. It felt suffocating.

  “Doubtful. You’re already branded an exile. Penalty of death. The Damadan family used a lot of their political capital to pull that off overnight and to keep me on the outside of things. Plus, you being an Elf, and that whole stunt in the throne room…Sorry, Tristan. You cannot return to Bhant. They don’t even care that you’re one of the few dragon slayers left. The Damadans also hid Gisele’s involvement with the mercenaries. She’s also pinned you as the assassin who slaughtered the manor servants and townhouse staff. Not to mention the guards stationed there. The king does not believe the story, but when all the nobles are convinced by the Damadan’s ties? Not much the king can do without risking revolt. I’m sorry. If it is any consolation, the king does believe me regarding your innocence in all this. But a noble revolt is not something that can happen.”

  Tristan was silent for a moment before he remembered the time limit. “Grandfather charged me with finding my half-brother. If I’m banished, I’m going to find Bertram and pass on the star thing. He’s the only person who can inherit if I’m banished.”

  “Condolences. You mentioned he’s injured.”

  “I’m going to get him to the Fey Realm, and have a healer see to him. With luck, he’ll recover.” The next words were hard for Tristan to say, but he said them regardless. “I’ll send him back towards Bhant to clear up the situation…and I’m going to go find my half-brother and bring him home.”

  “If he’s alive and can come back, he can clear up this whole mess. I sincerely hope he can recover. I’ll keep in touch. Every week, starting on the first, sixth, and onward. Our time run-” his voice was cut off.

  Tristan pushed the emblem under his armor and kept riding on into the darkness, speaking just loud enough for Felicity to hear him over the clattering of hooves against the cobblestone road. He filled her in, and ended with, “We go to the Fey Realm, try and heal grandfather.”

  Felicity nodded, “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Tristan frowned, “I’ll cope eventually.” Being banished isn’t the worst fate, he thought as he diverted off the road to a small grouping of trees. I wouldn’t be welcome there anyways, as a full-blooded elf. And if grandfather – no, not if, when he recovers, he’ll clear up the whole mess and I can bring Bertram back.

  The countryside was still farmland, but there were sparse expanses of forests around. He had been spinning his essence crucible the whole time he had rode waiting for the Archon’s contact and pushing the power into the ring. As soon as he was within the trees and shrouded from sight of any observers, they transported to the Fey Realm.

  A few fairy dragons flew over and Tristan instructed them to take care of the horses. He then looked to a third fairy dragon who awaited orders. “Healer! Now!”

  Felicity opened up the storage dimension and Hurvun’s body was gently pulled out by several fairy dragons. The dog-sized one who had used rejuvenation spells before flew over. He looked at Hurvun and began ordering the other fairy dragons to remove his armor. They took that, his sword, Fawke’s armor, and weapon all up to the top boughs. “What do you want us to do with this body?” one of them asked Tristan.

  He looked at his father’s corpse with disgust. “Burn it. To cinder and ash.” He spat on the corpse before turning back to his grandfather and the chanting fairy dragon. A deep, cerulean glow spread over Hurvun’s body, and his breathing became shallower. But he stayed asleep.

  The fairy dragon looked up at Tristan and shook his head, “His body is mended, but his mind…something keeps it locked away.” He glanced at Felicity, “You fed him panacea elixirs, I presume, given the needle-prick and discolored flesh?”

  She nodded, “Yeah. A ton of them!”

  The fairy dragon grimaced, “The poison used could be something like nullmind lasher serum, or flinditzel weed, or gorlot thoughtlock oil. There are many types of poisons that infect the mind.” He looked back to Tristan. “I am sorry, Lord Tristan…but his mind is locked away. We can keep his body alive, fed, washed…but until he comes out of it, only the most powerful of mind spells could break him free. It is that, or time.”

  Tristan felt dismay wash over him. He began to cry, feeling like he was punched in the gut. Felicity shifted to her elfanoid form and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Hey. It’s okay. He’s alive still. That’s something. We can find someone who knows mind spells and get him to come out of it. Right?”

  Tristan was numb. He just reached out and clasped his grandfather’s hand as the tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Tristan was sitting next to Hurvun’s bed underneath the Queen’s Wood. The old man was under the sheets, constantly attended by a fairy dragon as he sucked in shallow breaths. Even more, now, Tristan saw how his grandfather was a shell of his former self. Each breath he took seemed to take more and more of the legend out of him. He was an old, injured man. And it filled Tristan with rage. Rage at his father. Anger at his lack of speed, or prowess, to get done with the Black Company mercenaries and back to his grandfather’s side.

  A group of fairy dragons, led by The Matriarch, came into the room. “Lord Tristan, the Realm grieves along with you. Your grandfather was a fine man, judging from our interactions and how he raised you.” She walked up behind Tristan and placed a hand on his shoulder, “We will tend to him and keep him cared for.”

  “Thank you,” Tristan softly replied as he continued to feel the tears gently fall as he felt the sorrow wash over him. “Please…just leave me.”

  The Matriarch departed along with all of the fairy dragons – except for Felicity and the one bedside attendant. Felicity shifted into her elfanoid form and knelt alongside Tristan, a step behind him. “I’m here for you,” she whispered.

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  Tristan nodded and reached back for her hand, clasping it tightly.

  Hours passed and Tristan finally left his grandfather’s bedside. Returning to his chambers, he indulged in a bath and tried to drown away the thoughts of what had happened, but the vision of his grandfather being stabbed raced through his mind. And that also triggered the thoughts of seeing his mother’s corpse, and all of the deaths he had witnessed at the hands of the assassins. He wrapped his arms around his torso and could not hold back his sorrow, his pain, his grief.

  He should have lived. He was a legend brought low by…by a… He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and shut them tighter. I can’t do anything right! I should have been able to kill those mercenaries. Get to him. Save him…I’m sorry…so sorry…

  Once more, Felicity was right there, at his side, offering a comforting shoulder. He buried his head into the crook of her neck and shoulder, wrapping arms around her as he did not hold back the sorrow.

  Once the tumultuous emotions had run dry, she guided him out of the tub and to the bed, tucking him in and shifting into her fairy dragon form before stealing a pillow and going to the base of the bed. “I…” Tristan whispered. “I wouldn’t mind a hug.”

  Felicity nodded and reverted to her elfanoid form, moving up next to Tristan and wriggling under the covers as she hugged him from behind. “I’m here for you.”

  Tristan woke up and their positions had been reversed – he was snuggling Felicity from behind, and he extricated himself from the bed before throwing on some clothes and making his way up the Queen’s Wood.

  The Matriarch was standing at the top of the tree at the crafting area. “Ah, Lord Tristan; we are working on production of more clearcool potions. Several clay casks worth, so that you never run out.”

  His grandfather and father’s gear was placed on various armor and weapon racks nearby, and Tristan quickly averted his gaze from them. He moved over to the edge of the platform and sat on it, dangling his legs over the edge as he stared out over the Fey Realm and the woodland paradise. “I’m going to be traveling,” he softly said. “Away from the kingdom I grew up in. The only place I’ve ever known.”

  “The place that does not like you due to your nature,” The Matriarch said as she joined him on the edge of the platform.

  “Yes,” Tristan replied. “I need to find someone outside of the kingdom’s borders who can heal grandfather’s injury. I also need to find my half-brother. Apparently, he didn’t just join the Pathfinder Company. He went because a Drakonid woman was somehow involved. Maybe an adventurer he was entranced by and chose to join up alongside to impress? Perhaps they were already involved and he left because it was circumstance? I just don’t know.” He sighed. “It’ll be the first time I’ve left the kingdom. And I’m nervous about it.” But I need to, he added in his mind.

  “Wherever you go, you will always have the Fey Realm to reside in. Never forget that. If you so desired, you could stay here the rest of your days.”

  Tristan smiled a wry smile, “I can’t do that. Bertram deserves to inherit the Anorox family name, estate, everything. He’s the rightful heir, since I’m banished. And we have to find someone who can save grandfather.” Tristan grimaced and then frowned. “I killed my own father – mind you, he had it coming. But…I’m a Winterbloom. And I’m an Anorox. But…being ruler of this Realm is what I’m seemingly destined to be. So, yeah…once I get my grandfather on his feet, and get him reunited with Bertram, I may return to Bhant.”

  “You have a good heart, Tristan. And caring for your family is admirable. The Realm is yours, and we await your rule.”

  Tristan looked over at the regal woman with fairy dragon features, and saw just how similar she was to Felicity – albeit older with more angular cheeks, raised cheekbones, and larger antlers. “Thank you.”

  Tristan stared out to the horizon. “After I find Bertram and grandfather on his feet…I don’t know what comes next. But for all I know, Bertram is across the Mortal Realm in the Empire of Dorcelli. It’s a big place, and without being able to use divination spells, finding him will be a pain in the ass.”

  The Matriarch nodded, “I wish I could help, but divining something beyond the Realm one is in is very essence-intensive.” She stood up.

  Tristan looked up at her, “One more thing. Felicity told me a few times that she would be ‘here for me’. Was that on your orders, because you told her to accompany me?”

  “Perhaps,” The Matriarch replied. “All of my children must obey me, just as they must obey you.”

  “Then release her from that command. If she wants to keep coming with me to the Mortal Realm, that is fine by me. But I don’t want her bound to something she does not want to do.”

  “As you wish.” The Matriarch left and descended the tree while Tristan remained looking out over the landscape, and recalling all of the good memories of him with his mother and grandfather. The time when he broke his arm during weapon practice with a then-teenage Bertram, and his mother bandaged the break while Hurvun spanked Bertram made Tristan chuckle.

  Another memory came to his mind as he saw the fairy dragons flying in a small squadron off over the distant trees. A time when his grandfather snuck him up to the roof to watch the migratory birds who were leaving for the long winter. “Remember, Tristan,” his grandfather had said, “that if you ever feel the urge to travel – do it. There is nothing keeping you from pursuing that. Dragons emerge all over the world, and it’s our job to go hunt them no matter where they may be.”

  Tristan heard footsteps approaching, and then Felicity cleared her throat. “May I sit?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Tristan replied as she sat next to him, dangling her legs over the edge of the platform.

  “The Matriarch released me from my duties, but I would like to keep accompanying, if you’ll have me.”

  “Of course,” Tristan replied. “And sorry about this morning.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Oh, I, urm. I woke up cuddling against you.”

  She smiled coyly, “Oh? That is fine. Like I said – I move a lot when I sleep. It’s not surprising that a strong, domineering persona like yours would unconsciously reign in my behavior.”

  Tristan blushed and looked away, “This is…a weird situation. Because you’re a fairy dragon who can turn into an Elf-like figure-”

  “Elfanoid.”

  “Right. Forget I said anything.”

  She crossed her legs and hummed a bit, “You’ve grown on me, Tristan. First you chased me and played tag for two years – which was fun, by the way, until you took a sword to my wing. But I forgive you for that. The past few weeks of travel have not been as mischief-filled as I would like…but they have been enjoyable.” She gently placed her hand on his and squeezed. “I would very much like to accompany you in the Mortal Realm. If you’ll have me.”

  Tristan nodded as he watched the sun rise in the distance. “I accept. We’ll stay the day here, sleep, and then head out in the morning.”

  Felicity stood up and shifted into her fairy dragon form. “Then if you don’t mind me…I’m going for a quick fly around.” She did a small spin in the air and then dove over the edge of the platform.

  Tristan went over to the study and plopped down as he read through his grandfather’s notebook. He wasn’t really studying the spells but was just reading the various journal and diary entries intertwined amongst the various spells. He did mark down where the spells were using spare fairy dragon feathers.

  Tristan woke the next morning. “Oh, my head,” he mumbled as he sat up. He had indulged in some of the Starberry wine and fermented drinks that had been brought to him as he sat reading his grandfather’s notebook. Moving to the edge of the bed, he got up and dunked himself in the pool trying to clear his fuzzy mind.

  Glancing over to the bed, he saw Felicity curled up in her fairy dragon form at the foot of the bed on one of the pillows. She must have heard him, as she slowly blinked herself awake. “Oh, last night I got drunk.”

  Tristan nodded, “Ready to get back out there?”

  “Mmm…not yet. Mind us leaving midday?”

  Tristan shrugged, “Sure.” But on the inside, he was itching to leave. We have to find grandfather a healer.

  A few hours later Tristan was fully equipped and outfitted with his armor and weapons. He had a hundred vials of clearcool elixir, freshly made up that morning with his imbuement spell, and in Felicity’s storage. The horses were well-rested and had shining coats from their excellent grooming.

  The Matriarch walked over in her elfanoid form, “Safe travels, Lord Tristan. And Felicity? Thank you for electing to travel with him.”

  She smirked, “I don’t trust any of these other assholes with the job.”

  The surrounding fairy dragons lobbed insults at her, and she just grinned and took the offense-filled verbal assault with a smug look of satisfaction. She began making claw-biscuits on Tristans’ head.

  “We’ll be back tonight,” Tristan said. “I’ve got an idea for a new routine.” This earned a collective groan from the surrounding fairy dragons. Tristan just chuckled in response, spun his essence crucible, and pushed it into the ring as he vanished in a flash of white light.

  He walked the horses out of the clearing and re-mounted the first horse that he elected to name Onyx. He elected to name the other one Midnight, and both horses seemed amicable to the naming as they both nudged him softly. Tristan began riding south for the Sapphire Coast.

  Glancing back, he took in the sight of the vast farmlands of the kingdom’s heartlands. “Goodbye,” he whispered as he turned back to look forward.

  He felt a mix of emotions. Sorrow, as he left the land of his birth that he knew so well, and at his grandfather’s comatose state. Excitement, at the prospect of what lay ahead. And a sense of finality, as he knew that he did not really belong in Bhant.

  I'm a Winterbloom Elf, he thought. Last lord of the Fey Realm...last of my kind...I don't need the kingdom. I’m not going back there. I have a whole world to explore. And grandfather was right – there are dragons all over the Mortal Realm!

  He spoke softly to Onyx, “Come on, boy. Let’s go!” The mount neighed in response, and Tristan set forth, Felicity on his head, as they ventured south.

  Last Lord of the Fey: Awakening.

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