Archive of Our Own

“What is this?”

“A moonstone.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it… It’s very beautiful.”

Shadow Milk smiled at him the way he always did when showing off another one of his incredible artifacts. Elder Fairy almost never saw the need for them — he didn’t really understand much about innovations, in his opinion — but every time something was brought to him for appraisal, he showed genuine interest. Or at least pretended to be interested.

“Of course. I was thinking of you when I created it.”

At that time, the Silver Tree didn’t exist yet, and even the continents hadn't taken their final shape, and people lived intermixed with the merry folk — with fairies… That was a long time ago. Elder Fairy already had some gray in his hair back then — but he blushed and fidgeted just like a boy, every time as if it were the first. What did he say in response? It’s hard to say now. It was so long ago, it’s almost impossible to remember...

But he did accept the gift.

“What’s it for?”

“You once asked me how I manage to appear everywhere I want so suddenly,” Shadow Milk had a habit of circling around his conversation partners long before he consciously started to mimic a hungry shark. “So I thought it would be great to give someone else that ability. Not just anyone, of course: only to the one who holds the stone.”

“Very… commendable.”

The stone glowed with something from within: Shadow Milk must have miscalculated and placed too much of his power into it, so very soon the crystal base might simply not hold up. That’s how it seemed to him. Elder Faerie didn’t yet know that everything Shadow Milk created, he created with the utmost care.

This included not only his crafted objects but also his personal connections, beliefs, and even the teachings he spread among the people.

Elder Faerie was so regretful that he came to his senses when it was already too late — not just for him but for all Five. Even now, it seems, he sometimes felt a faint echo somewhere deep inside him, buried and sealed away, but never completely gone. Regret. But it was so long ago — he almost couldn’t remember if that feeling even had a name.

He didn’t remember if he ever wanted to forget about it.

“So what do I need to do to teleport?”

“Just squeeze it in your hand,” Shadow Milk said, pressing the stone into Elder Faerie’s hand and covering it with his own palm, “and think about where you want to go. Try it now.”

Elder Faerie closed his eyes, concentrating mentally, and when he opened them, he met Shadow Milk’s surprised gaze.

Shadow Milk frowned in confusion:

“It’s not working?..”

“Why? It worked perfectly.”

“But you didn’t go anywhere!”

“I wished to go there when I wanted to,” he smiled slightly and took a step closer.

What happened next? Elder Faerie couldn’t quite remember. Since then, people had scattered far and wide: to different continents, islands, peaks, they sailed to new shores and forgot about the merry folk. Just as the Faerie people forgot about them. Since then, beneath the shadow of the Silver Tree, many songs had echoed, many sorrows had roared: it witnessed both the joy of its king and his fear, felt his muted fury, and absorbed countless tears shed in vain into its soil.

The Tree stood there, unshakable, since everything ended — but the stone appeared in the elder’s quarters much earlier. It was separated from him only once, and even then, only briefly, with the light trapped inside illuminating the path for a different traveler.

It had been in Elder Faerie’s possession for so long that it was almost forgotten as “Shadow Milk’s stone”… though, was there even a need to remember it? Elder Faerie had for a time even forgotten its original purpose and long perceived it merely as an artifact reminding him of his unenviable fate.

“Will it always stay glowing like this? Or does it depend on the energy spent?”

“Neither,” Shadow Milk said, taking a step closer and wrapping his arms not just around Elder Faerie’s hands, but around him as well. “It will glow as long as nothing is lost yet. For the rest of the life.”

It was unfortunate that he didn’t clarify whose life. Perhaps it would've spared the wildly beating, naive, foolish heart of Elder Faerie from being choked by the Tree’s roots many millions of years later.

***

The Silver Kingdom was always a strange but joyful place where no one knew sorrow — befitting its inhabitants. For ages, they had recorded spoken words in musical notes, never hunted living creatures, and fed only on ripe fruit that fell to the ground. They wove their clothes from spider silk and washed with dawn dew, and it was easier to communicate with passersby through paired dances than with speech. Doors weren’t locked at night — because they weren’t commonly used; words like “blood” and “death” were only whispered, and children were taught to walk through the forest on paths without crushing the green grass — though once they learned to fly, they found it far more interesting to chirp with the birds at the tops of the trees than to sit on the ground. Furthermore, unlike the rest of the world, where armies were gathered to fight external or internal enemies, the Silver Tree Knights served as protection from primordial foes, long sealed away nearby them all.

Elder Faerie had built all of this himself, with his own hands, shouldering the responsibility and shielding it from prying eyes with his broad, strong wings. No wonder that everyone forgot about this Kingdom and the wonders that took place here.

Here’s what the outside world knows: The Silver Kingdom was built around the Tree when witches, with a single wave of their hand, sealed five Beasts within it, and since then, the forest faeries have guarded them day and night, knowing no rest. Elder Faerie sometimes thought that this was indeed the case — at least, his restless mind persistently insisted that the count of his life began on that day. But while the mind can be deceived, mistaking wishful thinking for reality, memory — especially one as impeccably clear as Elder Faerie’s — cannot. Unfortunately for him, it cannot.

In reality, the merry folk settled here long before the Tree was anything more than a fragile sapling, one of the many, many shoots that grew across the northwest of the then-young continent. They made their home at the foot of the Silver Mountain, establishing their cities and villages within the bounds of the First Silver River — hence the name — and in those ancient times, the idea of placing a veil of dreams at the entrance would never have crossed anyone’s mind. Winged people, ordinary folk, dwarves, dryads, minor deities, greater gods, and even the occasional wayward dragon — all were welcome in this place, where music never ceased and there was always something to drink.

Since the veil descended upon the kingdom, little had changed — except that the streets became less crowded. But Elder Faerie, after so many years of wandering through his well-trodden domain, still sensed some kind of shift: something akin to a “pressing absence.” Most likely, it was simply the weight of the years gone by.

Or perhaps he truly missed the constant laughter that once echoed from every corner. Why don’t people laugh anymore? Why did they laugh before? Or did the echoes of festivities and joy simply stop surrounding him in particular?

One thing was certain: he used to smile much more often and attended celebrations far more frequently. When was the last time he even attended one, anyway?..

The beginning of the Dance of the White Moon was approaching: the main festival of the faerie people, from which they, among other things, counted their years. It usually fell on the night of the summer solstice, but there were times when it began earlier, for example, if the silver bells withered faster than they could decorate the city with them.

A crucial detail, by the way. Without the need to gather them, Elder Faerie might never have met Shadow Milk.

Back then, he was still young — truly young, no matter what the palace guards joked about. Even the color of his attire confirmed this: faeries changed the colors of their clothing depending on their stage of life. Green and white were for youth, orange, yellow, and red for maturity. Purple and blue were worn by those approaching the “twilight” of life, while silver was for those whose years were nearing their end. But that was a long time ago — now, few followed the old traditions, including Elder Faerie himself. What’s the point, when everything that reminds him of them…

So, the silver bells. It was understandable that Shadow Milk didn’t notice him, all in green, doubled over in the middle of a glade of silver flowers, with Elder Faerie’s hair already shining with silver like the bells themselves. In fact, he didn’t notice him until he accidentally tripped over him in the grass. Shadow Milk, it should be noted, moved with a certain grace: his walk was almost weightless, more like a flight. Perhaps it was because he looked, as Elder Faerie would notice later, like a fluffy cloud. That’s why it was strange that in the spot where Elder Faerie had slightly flattened the grass, a sort of “path” to the forest was formed as he passed by — toward the direction he came from — and Shadow Milk had crashed through it with a noise uncharacteristic of a light cloud. More like a boulder falling from a cliff into a river.

“Oh my!” He was quick to react: he had no intention of lying flat on the ground, so he immediately jumped to his feet and began spitting out grass. “I didn’t see you! Who are you hiding from here?”

“Me? No one,” Elder Faerie, however, didn’t rush to offer apologies. Why should he? He wasn’t the one who just crashed into a stranger. “Didn’t anyone teach you to watch where you’re going?”

“Ho-ho. I can’t even remember the last time I was the one learning something instead of teaching others.”

“Well, that’s a shame, from what I can see — you could use a few lessons in good manners.”

Despite the slight irritation in Elder Faerie’s voice, Shadow Milk wasn’t the least bit fazed. He put on his usual friendly smile and took a step closer.

“You’re from the Fair Folk, aren’t you? I’ve heard you prefer to be called the ‘merry folk,’ but I’ve yet to meet any of you in a good mood.”

“Maybe,” Elder Faerie muttered, rubbing his bruised lower back, “our mood would be better if people didn’t trample us in the grass. And there’s no need for these fancy names: we simply call ourselves faeries.”

“I thought so,” Shadow Milk never thought about it before, “and what do they call you?”

“Elder Faerie. But my people call me their king.”

Shadow Milk's eyebrows shot up, and something resembling regret seemed to flicker in his gaze. Skepticism remained on Elder Faerie's face until the moment Shadow Milk suddenly gave him a graceful bow, respectfully removing his hat:

“Then I offer my deepest apologies — please, don’t hold any grudge against me or my companions. I don’t want the shadow of my disrespect to fall on their names as well.”

There was no trace of humor or mockery in his voice, unlike just a moment ago, which made it increasingly difficult for Elder Faerie to stay tense.

“This... ahem, it’s nothing,” he cleared his throat, though it wasn’t dry or sore — yet for some reason, he felt the urge to cough. “Don’t worry about it. Better tell me, who are you and which companions are you talking about?”

And that’s how he met the Master of Knowledge, and indirectly, the rest of the four heroes of legend. Elder Faerie had heard ballads about their adventures, composed by his people; in fact, he could even perform a song or two himself from time to time. Some of them he still remembered by heart, even after so many years... even after he personally burned the songbooks in his library containing any mention of them.

But that’s why he imagined meeting them — if it ever happened, of course — under somewhat different circumstances. He thought it would be best if they met… well, let’s say, in a grand battle against something big and terrifying. Or perhaps at a celebration right after: yes, then Elder Faerie, armed with his legendary sword, would greet them on behalf of his entire people, and this encounter would have inspired another dozen ballads.

But his expectations didn’t align at all with the reality that these great heroes traveled on their own, and what’s more — lightly packed; that they didn’t need royal honors (though it would have been nice), and they were perfectly content with each other's company. Even more baffling to him was how someone called nothing less than the “Master of All Knowledge” could behave so… casually — worse than the most frivolous faerie.

Elder Faerie wasn’t at all irritated by this, which was… to put it mildly, strange. Shadow Milk seemed to embody everything he disliked about himself and tried to eradicate by any means: excessive self-confidence bordering on impudence, blind optimism, and all of it suddenly combined with an absolute inability to filter his surroundings. It seemed to him that by a stroke of luck, Shadow Milk had managed to choose his remaining four friends — because it was glaringly obvious that, just as easily, someone much worse could have been in their place.

Well, what can be said? His image from the legends and tales differed fundamentally from reality. But despite all that… when Elder Faerie looked at him, he didn’t feel any sense of repulsion or superiority — instead, he felt a strong desire to help him in many ways.

“Look what I wrote!”

They often met like this, not far from the camp of the Five, to chat at the edge of the forest. Typically, their conversations covered various topics or events they wanted to share: Elder Faerie would offer insights about the faerie world, while Shadow Milk — about everything else. But this time, Shadow Milk presented him with something new: a few sheet music pages in the self-learned language of the merry folk.

“Well, what do you think?”

Elder Faerie stared at them for a long time — about three minutes — with an unreadable expression, unable to find the right words. To put it mildly… In his very, very long life — one he would live for many, many more years! — he couldn’t recall ever encountering something more outrageous, dirty, vulgar, and yet utterly absurd than this poetic masterpiece. The situation wasn’t improved by the fact that, in their short time of knowing each other, it became clear that Shadow Milk’s sense of humor could very well lead him to produce something like this.

But… if this was indeed a deliberate prank, his eyes wouldn’t be glowing with such innocent fire, as if kindled by the dawn stars. Elder Faerie sighed heavily:

“Tell me, who taught you music theory?”

“Who else? Your palace guards!”

“I see,” Elder Faerie said, though it was clear that he needed to tell him, otherwise he couldn’t hide that he didn’t understand the intended text. But it was such a struggle that he first had to overcome a genuine spasm in his throat: “Please, don’t take any more ‘lessons’ from them. They taught you… incorrectly.”

Shadow Milk blinked in confusion. Then he shifted his gaze from Elder Faerie’s face to the sheet music he was clutching in trembling hands, and, connecting the dots, blushed like a poppy flower. One didn’t need to be the “Master of All Knowledge” to reach the obvious conclusion.

“So I fell for it… Ha-ha, that was silly of me! They knew I wouldn’t be fooled by the sound — your dialect is indistinguishable from the common one. They only managed to confuse me with the notation.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. They often enjoy playing tricks on outsiders, but this,” he glanced at a particularly flowery expression. “is going too far. I’ll have a word with them about it.”

“Oh, please, don’t bother! It’s just a shame that I didn’t master your writing system on the first try — but that can be fixed.”

A shame indeed. Shadow Milk wasn’t just any guest — he was one of the great heroes, one of the Five! He definitely shouldn’t have become a victim of their pranks: it wouldn’t do for a king to be embarrassed by his own subjects...

However, Shadow Milk clearly saw the situation differently. He carefully took the sheets from Elder Faerie’s hands and tucked them into his chest pocket.

Finally, Elder Faerie couldn’t hold back and asked:

“So, what were you trying to write?”

Shadow Milk’s complexion didn’t change — but that could easily be attributed to the hot midday hour.

“Oh, it’s not very important. I’ll tell you later.”

***

In the end, Shadow Milk did indeed tell him what he intended to write — not once, not twice, and not even three times. Elder Faerie just didn’t catch it the first time around.

It’s so easy to grow accustomed to good things: a fleeting acquaintance becomes an interesting associate, and a sudden ally can turn into a regular companion. And when time flies by so swiftly, you don’t notice how this companion, always near or somewhere close, becomes a friend. Especially when that friend becomes an integral part of the entire kingdom’s life. The missing element.

He was missing someone with whom he could be not just a king or a warrior, but a “perpetually disgruntled slug” with his own opinions and perspectives — even if they weren’t always perfect or correct. It sounds incredibly cliché, of course, but for someone who never had such a thing in his life, it was like a sip of spring water in a summer drought.

It was the first and only time Elder Faerie allowed himself such a misstep — he never made such a mistake again. But in those distant, distant years, it seemed to him that it wasn’t a mistake at all, but true destiny. Even to this day, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when everything began to unravel — at what exact moment Shadow Milk started deceiving him, distorting the truth, and twisting words.

He only remembered that when he first realized it, it cut sharply into his ears. But by that time, everything had already long been lost.

“Have you ever wondered why we have time?”

Despite the fun of forest strolls and gatherings with Shadow Milk's companions, their truly meaningful conversations always happened one-on-one. Somewhere near the city entrance, perhaps, or along one of the hidden fae trails: Elder Faerie taught him to notice and find them again if they got lost. Actually, during these moments, they didn’t always need to speak: often, they simply enjoyed each other’s company in silence. But when they did talk… it always started suddenly and ended with heartfelt conversations that sometimes lasted until morning.

“I don't know. We, children of nature, live longer than you mortals.”

“Who are you calling mortal?” A light elbow nudge was met with a good-natured smile from Elder Faerie. “But I've been curious for a long time about how you perceive its passage.”

“Once I heard you giving a diatribe in the square: you compared time to a river. Well, I tend to think of it more like air. Besides the fact that when it runs out, we lose the ability to live, its flow can speed up, slow down, or even come to a standstill.”

Shadow Milk looked at him, struggling to conceal a hint of fatigue in his gaze.

“I could say ‘I’m glad our views align,’ but instead, I’ll just thank you for reiterating my own words. I’m flattered.”

“Well, it seems our way of thinking is indeed similar,” Elder Faerie initially tried to hold back but then, covering his mouth with his sleeve, added with a grin, “I’m glad to hear I have such an influence on you.”

Now there was something different reflected in Shadow Milk’s eyes… or perhaps that fatigue was never there to begin with? His eyes, although slightly different in color, seemed almost identical in the sunlight streaming through the dense tree canopy. They were somewhat greenish — or rather, more the color of the surf. Elder Faerie had only seen the ocean once, when his small people descended from the coastal mountains to move deeper into the continent. He had never been drawn back: forests were always more familiar to the winged people than the rugged cliffs, and washing with dew was certainly more pleasant than with salty spray.

But now, watching how the shimmering glints in Shadow Milk’s irises looked like palace stained glass — like foaming tides — Elder Faerie suddenly imagined that the scent of flowers had been replaced by the smell of the sea. Shadow Milk, like all his friends, loved the endless expanses of water: if it weren’t for his calling, he would have long abandoned everything and boarded the nearest schooner to sail the seas and oceans. Elder Faerie never understood this craving for adventure.

And now, suddenly, it came to mind, and… quite unexpectedly, he wanted to share it with him. Just like that, in the middle of the day.

“If you’re interested,” Shadow Milk’s voice didn’t get louder or softer, but it seemed to pull Elder Faerie out of his reverie, “I believe that all the time we’re given should be spent in joy — doing what we want.”

“That seems a bit selfish to me.”

“And is there anything wrong with that?”

“Well, if everyone did only what they felt like…”

He suddenly fell silent, remembering that in his kingdom, everyone was already engaged in what they had chosen for themselves — it was pointless to coerce free-spirited faeries into anything. Shadow Milk recalled this too:

“And what would happen?”

“Everyone would… well…” He couldn’t exactly say ‘spend all day wandering and having fun,’ because they already did just that! “I’m not prepared to answer that question.”

“Why’s that? Is it the first time you can’t cover your opinion with the views of the majority?”

This threw him off balance even more, to the point where he nearly choked in his indignation:

“What do you mean by that?”

“You tell me. It seems that among the merry folk, you’re the only one living against your heart.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. Of course, while Elder Faerie mainly spent his days in festivities and magical practice, he was perhaps the only one here whose place in life was determined by the fate of his people. Where was he — there was his kingdom; and if he was gone… it wouldn’t disappear, of course, no. It would simply become different — but the faeries, being long-lived, found change difficult. Elder Faerie never sought this role: it just happened that, at some point, when the mountains no longer welcomed them, everyone naturally gathered around him and wanted to hear what to do next. And by chance, he always had an answer.

His crown was essentially just a formality — that’s why he didn’t wear it and mostly relied on wreaths and laurels instead. His kingdom was simply his idea of finding a suitable place for the fair folk in the young, barely awakened world: and who better than him to ensure it stayed that way?

Who else would calm the forest trees, unaccustomed to having homes and huts built upon them? Who would tame the river that had never before been navigated? Who would talk to the wild animals and birds, if they seemed to recognize no authority but their own?

It wasn’t hard to walk away and leave his tireless work behind. It was difficult to think of it later when a chance to return arose.

In simpler terms, anyone in his kingdom had the opportunity to leave and fly away, forever, wherever their eyes led them. Anyone, except him. And Elder Faerie realized this long ago, when he was still wearing white.

But it wasn’t all that bad. Elder Faerie was the oldest of his kind: journeys, especially grand ones, would likely have had too great an impact on his conformist mind. And anyway — why would Shadow Milk suddenly judge him?

“And you? You dream of the sea, yet you’re bound to gather knowledge at the will of the witches. I see the fruits of my labor every day, and that alone makes me happier. What’s in it for you?”

“And I’m curious about how everything you so diligently protect works. I want to understand why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, what causes the tides, and to witness the birth of a new constellation. I want to learn how people say ‘hello’ and ‘get lost, charlatan’ in different languages, to hear what lullabies they sing to their children, and see what they believe — what explanations they have for everything. You might think I’m wasting my time, but I genuinely share your love for the world we live in. And the fruits of my labor are seeing how people pass on what I once told them.”

Maybe their paths were diverging — drastically, even, at least in terms of their way of life — but their goals... were very similar. Shadow Milk wanted to make the world clearer and simpler, while Elder Faerie aimed to make it safer and more comfortable. So, what does the sea have to do with it?

“And the sea?.. Ha-ha... well, who doesn’t occasionally want to merge with the water element — cast off all worldly burdens and all that?”

“Me, for example.”

“Ah, don’t jest. Sooner or later, you'll end up there too.”

Where, he didn't bother asking. Right now, it didn’t matter whether he would spend the rest of his days in his kingdom or become one of the moss-covered stones at the bottom of the sea. What mattered was that this moment seemed perfect to... well, to do something he wasn't quite sure of. Elder Faerie felt he had an opportunity, a genuine shining chance to change something in his life, to turn onto a new path. All he had to do was make that leap, and nothing would be the same again.

But Elder Faerie, shyly looking away, made the decisive choice to back down and do nothing. How could he hope for something that didn't even make sense to ask for? Although he was used to accepting circumstances, the last thing he wanted was to become, literally, a stone holding someone around their neck like a noose.

If it was destined for them to part ways, so be it. By that time, Elder Faerie fully came to terms with his fate… and even seemed to accept it.

He never expected to change his mind the very next day; all because of Shadow Milk’s phenomenal ability to surprise him.

Since their first meeting in the bellflower meadow, the Dance of the White Moon has been performed no fewer than three hundred times. The Five chose the Silver Kingdom as their haven, a place to return to after completing their quests, to rest, celebrate, and catch up with friends. Over time, the merry folk welcomed them as kin: the Five brought them wisdom and also learned from them, taught them songs, composed new ones, spread them across the world, and defended the kingdom when it needed it. In turn, Elder Faerie also became one of them, even if not all of them shared the same deep… mutual understanding that he had with Shadow Milk.

He was the only one who hardly ever left that place: he only ventured out once or twice, for no more than a day, and immediately returned, before anyone could miss him. He would say that no matter how much he tried to stay away from the faerie land, he was always drawn back. His friends initially tried to understand, but eventually just gave up; each of them had their own stronghold across the continent, and Shadow Milk had his own as well. Why he chose to make the faerie king's realm his home rather than his own domain was a question Elder Faerie had silently asked himself. But by the three hundred and first turn of the year, he finally received an answer.

He remembered little of the festival itself, its beginning blending into the endless array of previous ones. The revelry, the dances, the feasts — faerie celebrations, especially this one, were always filled with guests from anyone passing by, and the fae themselves, at their best, might barely make up half of the crowd. In such a throng, it was easy to get lost, confused in the dance steps, to drift from one circle to another, and, having become intoxicated with wine or excitement, to eventually collapse on the ground by dawn.

Yet, if one wanted to catch their breath and step away from the resounding overflow of lutes and viols, a secluded spot could always be found for that. Even with the most vibrant gowns and the largest wings among the fae, Elder Faerie knew how to blend into the crowd more inconspicuously than any field mouse. He had mastered the art of “disappearing” subtly right under the noses of surprised people when he grew bored among them — leaving them behind, blinking in confusion, whispering among themselves, “Where did the king go?”, “What a wonder: he was just here — now he's gone!”

And of course, he knew where to go. Usually, he expected that the guards would quickly notice his absence — the places he chose weren’t too difficult to find — but they wouldn’t come for him until a couple of hours later. What he did not expect was to find Shadow Milk there.

The moon illuminated the clearing so brightly that it felt as if it were midday — though perhaps it was the white lilies reflecting its light like snow on a winter morning. In the center of the clearing, Shadow Milk was dancing — or rather, swaying in place, not following any specific rhythm. Faint echoes of the celebration still drifted from the square, but Shadow Milk seemed to be listening to a melody of his own making, one that was clearly louder — otherwise, he would’ve noticed Elder Faerie approaching him from behind and wouldn’t have flinched at the touch on his shoulder.

“Oh! It’s you… Why are you here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Are you bored with our festivities?”

Usually, Shadow Milk was his complete opposite in this regard: always the center of attention and the star of any event, whether in dancing or at feasts, he was always in demand.

“Bored? No, no, not at all! I just thought I’d never see the beginning of a new season without a noisy crowd around.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that the crowd could tire you out.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“What am I doing here? Well,” Elder Faerie’s lips quirked slightly upward with a touch of self-assurance, “actually, this is one of my spots where I come to unwind.”

“Oh,” Shadow Milk stopped and turned to face him. “So this is where you keep disappearing to.”

Elder Faerie was a bit surprised that anyone even noticed. He thought he was as quiet as the morning breeze!

They stood facing each other in silence for several minutes, their eyes locked. The cicadas quieted, the nearby babbling brook seemed to slow its flow; even the oak leaves hushed, as if listening for something. Just as Elder Faerie was about to say something, Shadow Milk suddenly flashed him a sly smile, then stepped closer and stood beside him, taking his hand in his own. All royal self-control vanished instantly: he had nothing to say in response. The echoes of the festive orchestra continued to reach the meadow — clearly, Shadow Milk wanted to dance with him. At first, their movements resembled a simple, straightforward bass dance, but soon something changed: the dance became more energetic, impulsive, and… invasive of personal space. Not that they never danced together before — of course, Elder Faerie had been renowned as a master of branle, and Shadow Milk was unmatched in it. Still, these were always group dances. To be one-on-one, face to face, with another’s hand on his waist guiding the direction was something he never experienced.

But it wasn’t the dance that took his breath away. Shadow Milk was unusually silent, though a familiar, non-committal smile played on his lips. However, there was a certain sadness in his gaze — he looked into Elder Faerie’s eyes with the same intensity as when he first appeared, as if trying to understand something without asking aloud.

Finally, Elder Faerie couldn’t hold back:

“Why are you sad?”

“I... I just…” His voice suggested he was about to lie but then changed his mind. “I don't think you'll miss me.”

“Miss you? Why should I miss you?”

“That's what I thought.”

“No, no, are you planning to leave?”

“I thought,” he turned his hand so that Elder Faerie had to turn with it, “that my friends were right. I'm here no more than a foreigner, and sooner or later, I'll have to leave your domain.”

“But I would never cast you out!” The fact that they were still dancing in the midst of such a serious conversation made Elder Faerie lose his train of thought and get tangled up in his words. “I would never let you go! I mean… I wouldn’t want you to leave us… Why did you suddenly bring this up?”

“I just suddenly realized that, essentially, nothing here really ties me down.”

These words struck Elder Faerie like a lightning bolt, hitting some invisible target on his chest. He stopped abruptly and stared at Shadow Milk in confusion — and although he had to look down, it felt as though Shadow Milk was towering over him, threatening to crush him like a bug. However, just his words were enough. They always had an inexplicable (and rather abnormal) amount of power over him.

“Nothing holds you back,” although Elder Faerie fully understood that all his naive dreams were likely nothing more than just dreams, saying it out loud was… more unpleasant than he imagined. “What… even me?”

It was now Shadow Milk’s turn to look away awkwardly and fidget; a strange sight, considering he never was short of the right words. But he had no intention of letting go of his hand — instead, he placed it over his heart and said quietly:

“Perhaps, only you could.”

Elder Faerie cherished this particular memory dearly: he held it like a fragile, priceless treasure and replayed it in his mind every time the bitterness of regret pierced through his every nerve. For the first time, his desire — his own, completely selfish, unrelated to the kingdom and its subjects — came true and brought him happiness that lasted… yes, that's right: for the rest of their lives. Even many years later, it seemed to him that his lips still burned from the words “then I forbid you to leave me”; that his wings still fluttered with delight, and his hands still lacked the strength to hold onto anything. Of course, it was an illusion.

However, he remembered this night not only for himself. It served as a reminder of the power that such desires — spoken in a surge of emotion, thoughtless — can hold, and so he warned young generations until the end about their reckless use.

As Elder Faerie continued to dance with someone seemingly made for his embrace, he unknowingly infused his words with half — if not all — of his faerie ability to create miracles.

“Then I want to never be apart from you!”

Many years later, he would realize that he essentially cursed himself. But at the moment when he understood that his name was spoken by Shadow Milk in a way that was no longer the same as before, there was no one on earth who was happier than him. And even though the story of his life ultimately became no more than a bittersweet parable...

...sometimes, when he listened to the echoes of celebration from the distant glade, he inexplicably found himself wanting to dance once more.

***

If someone asked Elder Faerie, he wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint the exact moment he realized that Shadow Milk became an integral part of not just the kingdom’s life, but his own as well. Even though he liked to believe he had a good grasp of interpersonal relationships, this was true for everyone but him. There were always nuances and exceptions with him — perhaps because Shadow Milk himself was nuanced and exceptional (according to his own words).

In simpler terms, he was surprised to find that he somehow skipped the stage between “we meet a couple of times a week to chat” and “we spend the night together so I try not to bump him with my wings.”

Since then, he lived each day as if the next would never come.

Sometimes, when someone becomes an inseparable part of one’s daily life — not just an addition to the background, but a full-fledged new character — life itself begins to flow in a somewhat crumpled, monotonous way. Some might even call it routine. For Elder Faerie, it was the opposite: he literally considered the beginning of his life to be the day Shadow Milk first said that he loved him. Not just because of the symbolism — though that played a part — but also because, by coincidence, this moment happened to fall on the day Elder Faerie was supposed to change from green dresses to yellow ones.

It should be noted that for faeries, as well as for humans, the longest period of life was maturity. This meant that until it was appropriate to wear something darker, Elder Faerie was expected to mostly wear such colors. But Shadow Milk, no matter how hard he tried to accept it, simply couldn’t help himself — it irritated him so much!

And not because he thought the faerie fabrics were somehow lacking, or, even less so, that Elder Faerie himself was unattractive — certainly not. He could admire the glints of his silver hair in the sunlight endlessly... and everything else too. At night, he felt that his gray eyes, darkening with strong emotions, could pull anyone down to the very depths; Elder Faerie smiled rarely but always gently — even if it required the effort of cutting down a tree. And later, many years on, he cherished the slowly emerging lines at the corners of his eyes and cheeks. How could it be otherwise, when it was he who had taught him to smile more often? With a softened gaze that had gradually lost its youthful sharpness, and even his manner of speech, which had become noticeably less categorical. They both changed over the years, having spent a considerable amount of time together — and although outwardly they might not resemble the selves who first met in the bellflower field, what began between them at that time remained untouched by the passage of time. One thing remained unchanged as well: his opinion of yellow, orange, and red. They simply didn’t suit Elder Faerie!

No amount of persuasion could convince him to switch to at least the old colors:

“Do you wish for my death? A venerable king in a flowing, flamboyant robe, and green no less — I'll be laughed at!”

“All your gowns are flamboyant. And I've always thought your color etiquette is utter nonsense.”

“Well, like it or not, that won’t change the rules. Other options are simply improper.”

“Then just go naked,” when it became clear that he wouldn’t get anywhere and the conversation hit a dead end, it only remained to purr mockingly in his ear, “you look best that way anyway...”

Elder Faerie’s memory, though phenomenally clear, resembled more of a patchwork quilt than a chronologically ordered record. Countless episodes from their long shared life — so long that it could be considered an entirely separate lifetime — surfaced in his subconscious, replacing others that gradually faded and dimmed over time. Then those, too, were forgotten, and new ones took their place, and so on, and so forth. Everyday trivialities filled his imagination, and if his heart weren’t encased in the same silver armor as his body, he might have thought he had long lost his mind and was inventing fanciful tales.

Sometimes it even began to irritate him: why did the memory of his first kiss always shift seasons, while he could recall in detail the angle at which Shadow Milk cut the herbs for his tea? Why did he constantly forget how many times they secretly escaped to Crystal Cape — two or three? — but could still precisely recount the “basics of skepticism” that Shadow Milk once formulated for a debate with his student? The student, by the way, was the leading philosopher of the Silver Kingdom — from the school that came into existence precisely thanks to Shadow Milk. And Elder Faerie remembered every angry tirade of his lover when he returned from there, cursing the stubbornness of the local dogmatists. Yet he couldn't recall the moment when that very school was established.

He might’ve guessed that his mind was simply playing hide and seek with him — and no wonder. To live in one place for so many years, silently watching as the very essence of the land changes its structure, as the heavens force people to redraw maps and create a different reckoning of time... It seems entirely natural that he would begin to lose the outlines of days long past. Only, he knew what was truly confusing his thoughts, shuffling fragments of memories like a deck of cards, and aiming to drive him to madness. He knew that... once. But now, after so many years, he wasn't even sure that this too wasn't just another figment of imagination.

How long ago all this had been.

Elder Faerie’s life should have ended the day the witches commanded him to serve. The natural reserves of his life force had been exhausted, and so he was gifted with the unending one. But just as he didn’t consider the ill-fated day of his command to be the beginning, nor did he see the day of his final death as the end.

The end of his life came with the birth of the Beast of Deceit on the grave of the one he had known all this time as Light Milk. Of course, back then, he had another name.

But who remembers that now? Even Shadow Milk himself seemed to forget... So what was the point of preserving that name?

In all these reflections, Elder Faerie’s gaze would eventually return to the small, exquisitely crafted stone at the head of his bed. It was the last gift from Shadow Milk. Many years later, he would realize that this stone had been a harbinger of the end, but when he first took it in his hands, he didn’t even consider that by that time everything was already nearly destroyed. He couldn’t have guessed.

Yet the signs were not just ringing — they were tolling like cathedral bells right under his nose. Why didn’t Elder Faerie notice them? Why did he choose to deceive himself?

At the very least, Elder Faerie should have paid attention to Shadow Milk’s increasingly frequent visits to the farthest corners of the world — so far that these places would eventually become a separate continent. According to him, that was the most favorable place to build his own academy… nonsense, of course. It was precisely in that place and nowhere else that Shadow Milk discovered a deposit of moonstone, from which he made the talisman for Elder Faerie — and much more.

“How do you think I suddenly appear everywhere I want?”

Shadow Milk had this talent within him and developed it over time… but not very much. The difference was when he got a catalyst. A conduit through which to concentrate a great amount of power, and so on — just imagine, Elder Faerie, what could be achieved with such power!

Elder Faerie did try to imagine. And he was horrified when he heard about Shadow Milk’s prospects — his new method of attaining knowledge.

“Witches' Banquet?! Please, don’t joke with me like that anymore! You can’t seriously be thinking about it!”

“Why not? This is my essence, my entire life. I am a seeker of knowledge, and I always have been. Don’t clip my wings just as I’m spreading them…”

“But you don’t know what you might encounter there.”

“No one knows. That’s the point! Who else but me, the very first, will meet the creators and learn everything for us? How could I mean anything if I don't risk everything for it?”

Any conversation on the topic only led to the same accusations and ended up going in circles. Elder Faerie wanted to at least ask to go with him, but he couldn't leave the kingdom — besides, Shadow Milk would’ve clearly not welcomed his company…

Even his friends, who by then had gone their separate ways, offered no support: if he wanted to go, then let him, why hold him back?

Elder Faerie felt that he was the only one seeing something wrong here. His instinct, a gut feeling, which never failed him before, was screaming of the danger that his reckless companion headed towards. What to do, how to stop him?..

Nothing helped, nothing at all. Even the belated offer to become co-ruler of the forest folk was met by Shadow Milk with surprise and a smile — but he still refused. “There’s no need for that,” he told him, gripping Elder Faerie's hands more tightly, surprisingly cold. “I’m not of your kin. I’ll come back, and we’ll see then.”

But when he returned, it became clear that nothing would ever be the same. And, seemingly, Elder Faerie wasn’t to blame for this — so there was nothing to regret...

But if that cursed stone hadn't been harder than mountain diamonds, he would have shattered it into tiny pieces long ago. Stirred old wounds in a sense — and was always cold to the touch, too.

***

It should’ve been obvious sooner that Shadow Milk and his friends were simply leading him astray. It should’ve been clear earlier that they were in cahoots: of course, they wouldn’t lay their cards on the table before someone who clearly indicated his opposition to their scheme. The only unanswered question was who influenced whom first. Not that it mattered now, but Elder Faerie didn't want to believe until the end that Shadow Milk was both the instigator and the mastermind.

Elder Faerie never found out what the Five saw at that Banquet — he didn’t bother to extract the information from his then-agreeing companion because his attention was focused on other matters at the time. The fact that they all went on a perilous expedition to confront forces that their minds could barely comprehend jeopardized the very balance of the world as they knew it. None of the Five managed to recover and return to their former selves: upon their return, they each secluded themselves, leaving the world to face colossal dangers alone, which were only waiting for the right moment to strike.

However, Elder Faerie could only judge the condition of the other heroes from external accounts. He found it far more difficult to endure the changes in Shadow Milk right before his eyes.

And the changes were, quite literally, visible. If one didn’t interact with Shadow Milk at all or only observed him from a distance, it might not be immediately apparent that he lost his mind: his manner of speaking was unchanged, his gaze retained its focus, and even his movements remained smooth and graceful. But Elder Faerie had lived with this person long enough to have studied him down to the last cell of his body.

The friendliness and spontaneity in conversation had turned from a natural state into a poorly affixed mask — it felt as though instead of him, a puppet made of poorly done papier-mâché was speaking. The tone of speech was also meaningless if one truly listened to what he started to say. Shadow Milk was expressing very disturbing, even dangerous ideas, which the old Shadow Milk would never have contemplated. His previously orderly thoughts seemed to have become distorted, taking on a troubling — for Elder Faerie — hue. It was a wild mix of everything the other Five had turned into: apathetic cynicism, a cult of his own ego, which had soared to the heavens, secrecy, and half-truths. Elder Faerie remembered that it was during this time that Shadow Milk introduced the principle of “divide and conquer,” as it never existed even as a concept before.

Elder Faerie had lived with this man long enough to notice how he changed — but not long enough to understand where he was lying and where he simply started seeing the world differently. Shadow Milk cloaked every change in himself under some new philosophical direction, as if he were searching for an excuse. The loss of empathy? “Push the weak.” Increased aggression? “The right of the strong.” Someone's premature death? “Natural selection.” Elder Faerie didn’t notice how he too, being beside him, was becoming increasingly sullen and less restrained — only the frightened eyes of his subjects were able to halt the seeds of bitterness that Shadow Milk carefully planted in his soul.

How unfortunate it was that one Elder Faerie was no longer enough to reach him.

“Please, listen to me... I’m worried about who you’re becoming.”

“Hm? And who do you think that is?”

“…Not yourself. Why won’t you tell me what you saw there?!”

“Saw… Oh, what would a little tree like you understand,” Shadow Milk, though not saying it directly, took the lack of support for their whole venture as a clear sign of where they stood with each other. Simply put, a betrayal. If Elder Faerie couldn’t offer anything but reproaches back then, why share anything with him now? “You weren’t keen on listening before. I’m not keen on straining my voice now.”

“What’s happening to you?” Usually, a tug on the sleeve could snap him out of it, make him pay attention... but not this time. Shadow Milk simply learned to ignore it. "Explain yourself to me! Why are you talking to me like this? Why won’t you even look at me? Am I really that—"

“Tiresome.” One word, and it was as if Elder Faerie had the air knocked out of him. “Be so kind as to stop buzzing in my ear — I need to think.”

“I need to think” — those were his metaphorical words to signal his departure to his domain: the Spire of Truth. Though by now, it would have been better named the Spire of Half-Truth, or even Lies, because Shadow Milk began spending more and more time there, gradually distancing himself from the Silver Kingdom. Their home grew empty. Their shared places lost their vibrancy, and even though the streets — where dancing, singing, and celebrating continued year-round — remained lively, there was nothing for Elder Faerie’s distracted gaze to latch onto. Shadow Milk promised never to leave him — or did he only imagine that too? — yet it felt as though everything they built was becoming... a closed chapter. A past story.

He didn’t know how to fix everything because he couldn’t see what was broken… or rather, how it was broken. To his horror, Elder Faerie long since noticed the signs of cracking ice in Shadow Milk’s mind, and by then, it no longer mattered who provoked whom first.

The situation was spiraling out of control, and no measures helped: neither pleas, nor begging, nor even force.

“What do I care about your kingdom? You keep harping on about it! Handle it yourself — I have no interest in a crown of wheats and daisies.”

“Then what kind of crown would satisfy you?” Elder Faerie asked, standing before him in silver knight’s armor and with a similarly heated crown under the sun.

“A crown that makes seas and oceans, islands and lands tremble — and will be mine alone.”

“And what about your friends? Will you make them tremble before you as well?”

“Oh, my dear companions are irrelevant here.” His lips twisted into a grim smile, but from the way he said ‘companions,’ Elder Faerie realized they too would be discarded like used material once they serve their purpose. “We are always on the same side. Only we can stand up to the witches, for no one else can match our power…”

“Stand up? Against the witches?! Wake up, Milk, hear yourself!” Before that Elder Faerie never allowed himself to grab him by the chest and shake, hoping to drill some sense into him, but listening to his delusions was even harder. “It’s impossible! Simply unreal! You’ll be swept away like crumbs in an instant if you even show yourselves, and… why?!”

“Why?” Shadow Milk suddenly looked so surprised, as if asked why two plus two equals four.

“Why declare war on the witches?! What did you see there?!”

In response — silence. Elder Faerie felt his fingers going numb, either from Shadow Milk's sudden grave coldness or from how tightly he was gripping his clothes. He tried with all his might to find even a trace of the old reason in his eyes, helplessly hoping to see a glimmer of enlightenment — but it was empty. Shadow Milk seemed to be disconnected from what was happening, looking through Elder Faerie… perhaps Silent Salt bound him with an oath of silence?

“Please… you can tell me. I can endure anything, but I beg you, don't keep me in the dark any longer.”

Somewhere deep within his dark pupils, at the very bottom of his multicolored eyes, a storm was raging. To tell? Or not to tell…

Distorted or sane, the Master of Knowledge was himself even if he was thrice broken by the weight of revealed truth. The rational mind dryly concluded that disclosing the secret would be the simplest solution: thus, the problem with Elder Faerie would be removed with little effort. It was highly unlikely that the forest fairy could maintain his mental balance after this — he would simply retreat somewhere in his kingdom and become no obstacle when his time came. But at the same time, something quiet, scraping at the bottom of his soul, desperate and tender, which wished to break free every time he saw Elder Faerie, suddenly demanded he said nothing with an unexpectedly loud and commanding tone. There was no explanation for this — it was an instinct born within his soul from something so fundamental that Shadow Milk dared not resist. And so he remained silent.

But Elder Faerie didn’t come to watch silently how Shadow Milk fought his internal battle, of which he wasn’t even aware. Shaking him again with all his might, he was ready to beg on his knees:

“Please… I beg you, tell me what happened. Something has clearly frightened you. I can help you — I know something is troubling you…”

“Troubling? Me?”

“Yes. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be avoiding my company… or even speaking with me.”

“Well, well, you have quite the ego. And you even hold it against me! I just don’t love you anymore, that’s all.”

For a moment, Elder Faerie thought he misheard. He even asked again — but received the same response.

“What… what do you mean, don’t love me… anymore?”

He didn’t even catch what Shadow Milk said next, because there was no real answer — just some empty excuse like “our paths have diverged.” He regretted not taking it seriously at the time, very much so. It turned out to be the real reason for their separation, and not something trivial. Shadow Milk, as it would later become clear, meant every word.

Believing it was the last thing Elder Faerie wanted to do — but he already made the mistake of letting Shadow Milk wrap him around his finger. And once he made that mistake…

***

…From Shadow Milk's perspective, it was fair and, one might even say, rational to plan a swift second strike in the near future. However, it seemed that Elder Faerie greatly overestimated his own strength and endurance.

Throughout their life side by side, he never even considered, even in his thoughts, that there might come a time when Shadow Milk would just… abandon him. Just like that, without any explanation — as if it came out of nowhere.

To an outsider, it would’ve been difficult to grasp the full extent of what happened to Elder Faerie; even for him, putting his feelings into words was a struggle. He tried to express them through poems, music, and a sword-fighting style he suddenly invented — each movement infused with a sorrow that the merry folk called “spiritual decay.” It was as if their king had once been the greatest tree in the forest: its shade sheltered woodland birds and creatures, and its branches provided a haven for the winged folk themselves. But once something poisoned its roots, the tree began to wither: its leaves lost the vibrant colors of life, its branches grew brittle and weak, and the cruel northern wind swept through its hollowed trunk, echoing its dirge in the empty, rotting wood.

He could never imagine that a bond, lasting longer than several constellations existed, could suddenly... or ever, be severed. Now, he understood how naive that was, but back then, he believed some unpredictable, malevolent will — or even a curse — had struck him. He didn’t just lose a friend or a lover: from the moment they met until that dark day, there had been an invisible “thread” between them — a connection that allowed them to almost share thoughts, no matter the distance. It warmed them on cold nights when words felt unnecessary to express the obvious and served as a solid support when they were apart. It was also that very last thread that might’ve brought Shadow Milk back to his senses, back home, and stopped his madness. And now, it felt as if that thread was simply cut.

No wonder Elder Faerie felt as though the ground had been swept out from under him.

The “decay” that his close ones began to whisper about wasn't something immediately visible — it crept in quietly, much like the distortion of the Five Heroes, and only became apparent at the end, when it was already too late. It was as if a stack of straw was slowly, drop by drop, soaked in kerosene and then suddenly set ablaze with a single match. The only thing that kept Elder Faerie from igniting was his unwavering sense of duty — without it, nothing would’ve stopped him from dissolving into the stormy sea foam crashing against Crystal Cape. He no longer resembled his former self, but that was understandable — how could a sunken ship ever sail again, even if it were brought back to the surface?

But there was no one left to restrain Shadow Milk. It’s hard to say now who among his comrades first succumbed to distortion and dragged the others down with them, but one thing was clear: together, they became a living illustration of the “crab bucket theory” — with monstrous consequences for everyone else. Each one clung to the other, pulling them down, and at the very bottom — or perhaps at the very top, depending on how you look at it — was a man reveling in his triumph… when he managed to drown out the thunderous roar of his conscience. It had tormented Shadow Milk ever since he saw the light fade from Elder Faerie’s eyes; for a moment, he even thought he accidentally killed him. But Elder Faerie was still standing, still gripping him tightly with one hand, and with the other, the moonstone — the very one that became the only way to reach the Spire of Truth and Deceit.

Elder Faerie stood still and looked at him, stunned, as if pierced by a thousand arrows at once, afraid to move. It was at that moment that Shadow Milk felt for the first time what it was like to want to bite his tongue.

But really, wasn’t he acting in the best way possible? The truth that was revealed to the Five would’ve destroyed anyone in their place — after all, in a sense, it literally destroyed them. Even if Elder Faerie endured it… he would never support their idea, never share their anger, and certainly not join their intentions. At the beginning, Shadow Milk secretly hoped that perhaps his companion might agree to lead their crusade against the witches and their inhumane nature alongside him. But this was Elder Faerie — and just the thought of his stubbornness and “moral principles” made Shadow Milk’s blood boil and his eyes redden. It didn’t take a “Master of Knowledge” to reach obvious conclusions.

Elder Faerie wasn’t the only one who studied the other from top to bottom.

But, in any case, the Five knew they could manage perfectly well without his blessing: they didn’t even need allies among humans to accomplish their plans. Their power alone was sufficient to overthrow those who, after all, granted them that power in the first place. No coincidence that, over the many passing centuries, the witches transformed from creators of all existence into what they had become — into what the Five had witnessed with their own eyes at that Banquet.

All that was missing was something… more. Something important, one might say, fundamental — something they had grown accustomed to, like air, something that was self-evident, rightfully theirs, and absolutely deserved. Gratitude. Glory. Adoration. The very things they quickly lost when they isolated themselves from the world but come to miss dearly.

In Shadow Milk's case, the adoration of the masses played no significant role in his life (he himself was surprised when he remembered that once the adoration of just one person was enough for him); what concerned him much more was recognition. Recognition of his thoughts, his ideas, his discoveries. Without it, all his work was meaningless: everything he’s done, all the knowledge he gathered, all the people he taught… all the crushing horror he endured. Was it worth starting such an adventure for nothing?

Was it worth returning to Elder Faerie with empty…

Internally, Shadow Milk slapped himself every time he thought about that old fool — but if he had really done it, by the end of the week there wouldn't be a single unmarked spot on his face. Just look at that: did move in to live in his head?

But truth be told, after returning from the banquet, Shadow Milk couldn’t even remember if he felt any of the old affection toward him.

He didn’t remember if he ever wanted to forget about it.

Although, overall, it wasn’t very important: they had a bigger problem on their hands. The people they so recklessly abandoned after their expedition discovered their own power, believed in their omnipotence, and seemed to have lost the useful sense of fear. The great heroes, whose protection and advice they always sought, were no longer needed. Armed with all the accumulated knowledge, they united against the dangers emerging from everywhere and, with sheer volition, managed to change their lives and find happiness in a world without those… who taught them everything in the first place.

When Shadow Milk thought about this many years later, he almost wanted to cry at how gravely he underestimated the irony. Unfortunately, at that time, he wasn’t in the mood for jokes: the people, in his opinion, became too self-confident and forgot their place by daring not to need them anymore. So what was their upcoming campaign for all of them worth?

And since they refused to give them due out of affection...

***

Elder Faerie refused to believe what he heard for far too long, given his own moral compass. But he simply couldn't accept it.

It would be one thing if the Five became nothing more than a shadow of their former selves. It would be one thing if they renounced everything sacred for a mission in which they had no chance of survival: after all, the world, though still young, was no longer helpless. It would be one thing if his own heart shattered into pieces at the hands of the one he trusted the most.

But for those same hands to take the lives of hundreds and thousands of people just because they refused to kneel before him?..

The world had changed drastically since the Five first entered the Faeriewood. Back then, the Silver Kingdom was almost the only realm of consciously unified beings. But that wasn’t the case anymore: both humans and other creatures have long since established their own states, rulers, and laws. The great heroes perhaps forgot that they were endowed with their Virtues to help them: long-lasting and fleeting, strong and weak, but still — mortal. Their efforts, their diligence, their sacrifices at the dawn of creation were immeasurable, yet even the grandest celebrations have an end. If people needed leadership, they would ask for it themselves. Elder Faerie knew this better than anyone.

This was exactly what he intended to remind him of, preparing so seriously that he brought along an entire army as an argument. It was, of course, mostly for show, as it was hastily assembled from those who urged him not to go there — or at least not to go alone. Elder Faerie never thought it would come to a clash: no matter what Shadow Milk told him, he simply didn’t believe that he wouldn’t be able to reach even the remnants of his reason. Instead, he believed that there were no actual murders and that it was merely idle gossip — that Shadow Milk simply turned a blind eye to his friends' actions…

Elder Faerie never regretted so much not preparing himself at least mentally in advance. The sight of the bones that covered the walls of the Spire was, to say the least, disorienting.

“Elder Faerie…”

A gusty breath caught in his throat as he turned sharply. On the Spire itself, he was alone: the moonstone was too small to transport all his cavalry, let alone the foot soldiers. They had to wait at a distance permitted by the barrier set up by Shadow Milk, and bide their time until His Majesty would bring the Beast closer.

But the Beast clearly had no intention of coming out. Shadow Milk seemed to thoroughly enjoy his new... residence: judging by the surroundings, it seemed he personally decorated it, arranging the bones to fit the ornate patterns of the ceiling’s moldings.

“Elder Faerie… Why did you come to me? Did you come to kill me?”

“Show yourself,” he nearly let the word “Beast” slip from his tongue, the name that spread among people faster each day, like wildfire. Now Elder Faerie knew why.

“I’ll show myself, of course — but are you sure you'll be pleased to see me?”

“Milk, this isn’t a joke. What have you done?!”

Not being able to see him only made Elder Faerie more nervous. His wings, usually held tightly folded down, were spread out and trembling slightly from the stress. The silver armor clinked quietly as he turned toward the sound of the voice, and it was clear that his hands held the sword in front of him too uncertainly to launch an immediate attack.

Adding to the atmosphere was that, despite the nearly empty interior of the Spire — aside from its new “decor,” of course — there was no echo at all. Shadow Milk's voice sounded as if he were standing right next to him, calmly speaking from an arm's length away. And breathing... it was becoming more difficult too.

“What jokes could there be? I can see for myself that you’re more serious than ever. But I never thought I’d see you draw your blade in front of me... again.”

Before he could even finish his crude joke, Shadow Milk burst into such hysterical laughter that there was no doubt: he was out of his mind. No, he became utterly deranged!

“Step into the light, enough of this!” Elder Faerie’s voice grew firmer and more resolute, but his despair remained. His hands, still holding the sword out in front of him, now threatened to tremble at any moment.

“I see you’re just dying to witness my new role! Well then, I won’t keep my love waiting.”

The sudden appearance from the side made Elder Faerie’s heart skip not as much as the words “my love.” How long has it been since he heard that… and perhaps it was better if he never heard it again. Shadow Milk, of course, changed externally: his clothes were dirty and worn, his hair, either cut or even torn by hands, fell onto his face in unkempt clumps. His eyes burned with a malevolent fire.

He stood inches away from Elder Faerie, staring unblinkingly at his face — with that same gaze. Sightless, as if looking through him. He smiled, and though he did it smoothly and slowly, his smile was like that of any madman: sudden, like a knife in the back.

“Did you miss me?”

“I came to reason with you.”

“No, you came to hinder me."

Shadow Milk's voice was much quieter, and this contrasted sharply with his sudden bouts of laughter that left Elder Faerie's ears ringing.

“How do you like the new me? Aren’t you impressed with my transformation?”

Only now did it become apparent that Shadow Milk wasn’t standing on his feet as before but was simply levitating a few centimeters above the floor, like some kind of ghost. He didn’t move at all. It felt as if he stopped breathing entirely.

“I… I’m horrified, Milk. This,” Elder Faerie said, casting a fearful glance around the interior of the Spire, “is simply disgusting! It’s monstrous! What… what have you become?! Have you forgotten who you are?! Why do you even exist?! How could you… how could you bring yourself to…!”

Shadow Milk didn’t react to the fact that Elder Faerie literally burst into a shout — he merely stared ahead and continued to smile with a bestial grin. A bestial grin…

“Finished? Excellent. I’ll take it into account,” though he moved his lips, his voice seemed to come from all directions at once. “Now, I trust you’ll make your way back to your little floral kingdom…”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Elder Faerie said, his patience, already thin, nearing its end. He pressed the tip of his sword into Shadow Milk’s plush chest plate. “You will come with me and stand before the Witches’ Court, where you will answer for every death you’ve caused.”

A chuckle. Another one. And then Shadow Milk burst into laughter again, the kind that would’ve torn apart the lungs of a normal person. The wheezing cough that followed made him spit a lump of what seemed to be congealed blood onto the floor.

“How… charming!..” he said, gasping between fits of laughter. “Just look, my dear friends: he’s still trying to impose conditions on me!”

Elder Faerie didn’t immediately understand the meaning of this. He was too busy trying (and failing) to strike at him with his sword, which caused a delay. It turned out that he had once gravely underestimated Shadow Milk's capacity for camaraderie. That invisible thread that once bound them together seemed to have been divided among the other Beasts... although he still couldn’t grasp why he himself lost it. Perhaps it was because he didn’t support Shadow Milk, despite everything? But why would he be needed, such as he was, without his own opinion, without his morality?

Elder Faerie immediately recognized the fetters of Mystic Flour, even though he never tested them on himself. Shadow Milk called upon his allies for help, and they responded in their own ways: Sloth tried to restrain his body, Apathy sought to bind his soul. Fury distracted Elder Faerie from the questions he wanted to ask, instead igniting a desire to tear his hair out in sheer rage. And Silence... simply reminded him that, essentially, he had nothing left to say. What words did he not yet try? What did he not say that Shadow Milk might’ve been waiting for?

“Ah, I can see you’re burning up with inner contradictions. How I love that about you! You'll consume yourself from the inside out, dissolve into nothing, but not utter a word about it: well, what can I say, a true role model! We all appreciate it — oh, we certainly appreciate it, don’t we, friends?”

The response was silence, as physically none of the Beasts were present, but Shadow Milk seemed to ignore that.

“I never understood why you loved me,” Elder Faerie finally found the strength to speak through gritted teeth, “but now I have to admit: I understand even less why you stopped loving me.”

Shadow Milk, levitating around him in a waltz rhythm, suddenly stopped and looked at him. Before, he was considering the angle to throw Elder Faerie’s accidentally dropped sword out the window, but now he twisted his head at such an unnatural angle that a living person’s neck would surely snap.

“Oh. So you’ve been wasting your time. How unfortunate… I deliberately postponed our attack so that by now you could think and understand what’s what! Did you hear that, brothers? We don’t need to wait any longer! This fool is simply beyond repair!”

“Please, stop speaking in riddles. Just tell me — what have I done to offend you so much? Why did you…”

Left me. Pushed me away. Didn’t take me back, didn’t want to explain, didn’t make any compromises, didn’t let me compromise, abandoned everything we built, forgot our promises, forgot your duty, disregarded the law and humanity, and continue to stand your ground.

“Silent? You probably want to know why I’m silent?” He “squatted” in front of him, still smiling. Elder Faerie was instantly reminded of the smell of decay that emanated from diseased trees after the rain when leaving the Faeriewood: that’s how Shadow Milk’s breath now smelled. “Well, my love, I have two answers to that!”

Elder Faerie wanted to avoid his gaze, but he couldn’t even close his eyes.

“First — and of course, it was my main reason until I changed my mind: I was afraid to hurt you. Yes, yes, I’m shocked too, I understand! But my foolish heart,” he pulled out from his pocket a piece of blackened flesh soaked in something dark and threw it at the kneeling king, “felt that you simply couldn’t endure the horror I experienced at the Banquet. I thought your delicate, fragile soul would crack instantly, like your once charming face — and how was I supposed to live with that burden? Naturally, I stayed silent!”

Elder Faerie looked at the heart at his feet and suddenly felt his own darken. As he marched here with a squad of silver warriors and even when he saw what was happening in the Spire, he… still harbored a quiet hope that Shadow Milk would clearly be out of his mind and would obey the command to submit to judgment. To condemn an immortal being to execution would surely be impossible — not only due to a lack of authority but also because only the witches themselves would have the power to do so. And those, in their boundless wisdom, would hardly be satisfied with a simple death. That was when Elder Faerie felt he could have intervened: to be his personal warden, or caregiver, or even cellmate — he would agree to anything just to return what was lost. Him. Of course, that would mean giving up his crown — but was that even comparable?

And now, seeing how Shadow Milk willingly severed himself from any path back… Elder Faerie felt as if it was his own decayed heart lying before him, not Shadow Milk's.

“Are you even listening to me? I’m still here,” he snapped his fingers a couple of times in front of Elder Faerie’s face, but he was unmoved. “Hmm. Well, I’ll say it anyway — just don’t ask me to repeat it, I won’t do it twice! So, the second reason why I never told you anything and never will: I think you don’t deserve it.”

Elder Faerie's long lashes barely fluttered. Shadow Milk noticed and widened his grin even further, though it seemed already impossible.

“You see, my dear,” Shadow Milk said, “you were never ready to make sacrifices for the truth. You’re not an artist! You’re not even a scholar: your only role is to be a servant to someone’s will. Mostly mine, but if it weren’t for me, you’d have found some other fool, even more boring than yourself. And you two, both of you, would be happily stagnating in your Silver Tomb, la-la-la-la-la!”

He did a backflip in the air, choking with laughter.

“But I couldn’t live like that forever: you see, in my view, I amount to something. I was never afraid to make sacrifices for science — daring to be bolder, pushing further, taking more, and not stopping for a moment! Even with you,” he noticed Elder Faerie flinch at these words, so he stretched out the next ones with particular emphasis, as if twisting a knife in a wound, “I got entangled mostly because I was curious about how feelings work. How love can influence life. And for a while, it certainly met my expectations — you were so, so grateful for the smallest crumbs of my affection compared to what you gave me!

His voice dripped with feigned tenderness, making Elder Faerie feel nauseous. He didn’t know what to think anymore. Was the meaning of his life not just over — but it never existed at all?

“Unfortunately, in the end, you failed the ultimate test of whether you deserved to stay with me for life. I needed someone… with a spark! Someone ready to conquer peaks with me, not someone dragging me down.”

“But I asked to come with you to the Banquet…”

“Asked?! All you did was stop me!” The tone that was mockingly sweet turned into a hysterical shriek. “You played on pity, on guilt: ‘But Milk, what about me?’ ‘But Milk, what about my kingdom?’ I couldn’t care less about your kingdom, where even a stone can’t fall without your dim-witted faeries turning it into a festival!

“I thought you loved them.”

“I was ready to make an exception for you if you’d ever made exceptions for me.”

Perhaps at this moment, Elder Faerie was even grateful for Silent Salt — at least the silence kept him from starting to grovel.

“Huh, well. And so, when I realized all this, I understood that I was pitying you all this time for nothing. After all, this truth, the truth we uncovered with my comrades, cost us everything! Do you see? Everything! Look at what we’ve become!” His voice, sounding confident and almost ceremonious, wavered for just a brief moment. Elder Faerie lifted his head. “Look at the thorns we had to push through and the price we had to pay for it!”

Elder Faerie truly saw in front of him what could only be described as an immense loss. What was worse, he didn’t know if Shadow Milk always was willing to sacrifice so much or if became this way under the influence of his distortion.

“I felt like I was at the top of the world and, at the same time, at its very bottom. I felt as though I had grown wings,” Shadow Milk’s gaze swept over Elder Faerie’s back, “but fragile wings, holding feathers with nothing but resin. That’s what keeps me away from the sun! The truth I discovered threatened to burn me from within if I didn’t find a use for it. And I did. My friends and I found it together.”

“But why drag innocent people?..”

“Innocent?!” Shadow Milk erupted, and the devilish fire that was previously burning only in his mad eyes now flared around the bound Elder Faerie. “These ungrateful pieces of flesh forgot who they are and have no idea why they were created! They… they’re pests — dirt under our nails, no more than cattle for slaughter! We didn’t need their help, but I wished for the slightest bit of gratitude from them. And what did I get in return? They — just think about it!” he fumed, “they fancied themselves the masters of the world!”

“And who is their master? You, perhaps?”

He hesitated. Then started giggling again.

“And you dare to scold me? You call yourself the king of your fairies!”

“I don’t just call myself that. I am their king.”

“Your crown is nothing but daisies and bellflowers,” Shadow Milk retorted, evidently enraged by the comment, so much so that he began to repeat himself. “A throne made of bones, on the other hand, looks much more impressive. It reminds one of the natural order and the place each being has in the world.”

Elder Faerie attempted to escape, only to be met with a burn from the narrowing ring of blue flames.

“Tsk-tsk-tsk… Where are you rushing off to? My dear, you have nowhere to hurry. Soon, when we complete our righteous crusade, you won’t have to bear the chains of this world any longer. There will be no more fate, that heavy yoke that has hung over all of us since the dawn of creation. Naturally, you don’t know what I’m talking about — you’ve disappointed me so much… But you know what? I’m willing to give you one last chance.”

Before he could ask, Elder Faerie saw the ring of fire accelerate with lightning speed and felt it tighten around his body. Even the armor offered no protection: it only heated up, like under the desert sun, turning red-hot and literally roasting him from the inside. At first, he didn’t feel the pain — first came the smell of burning hair and smoked flesh. Only then, as he fell face down, trying to shake off the licking flames, did he let out a torturous scream.

But that wasn't what Shadow Milk wanted.

“Elder Faerie… Do you truly think you could sacrifice the same things for the truth as we did?”

“Please, I beg you, put out the fire, please, I beg you, stop burning, sto-o-o-aaah!..”

“Are you truly capable of enduring this?”

The same meaningless questions — and the same agonizing pleas in response. Shadow Milk watched the whole thing for a merciless ten minutes, but surprisingly there was no longer a grin or even a slight smile on his face. That much would’ve been enough to burn any creature alive three times — but Elder Faerie, by the end, wasn’t sure anymore if he was still alive. Wisps of his own silver hair were charring in his hands, and his skin was blackening and clumping off his hands like overripe peels on fruit. He didn't know how he still had the strength to scream, because his vision went out in about the second minute, his eyes blinded either from the pain or from being burned out.

When the time for an answer finally ended, Shadow Milk snapped his fingers, and suddenly, everything stopped. The blue flames retreated, and Elder Faerie gasped for air with his parched lungs. It took him a moment to realize that his sight, hearing, and even sense of touch fully returned… but not because it was all an illusion.

The flames and the injuries they caused might have been illusions, but the pain they brought was very real. Elder Faerie trembled violently, as if delirious, unable even to lift his head. Every movement felt as if he were tearing apart into pieces of flesh, and even his vocal cords were pained by the dull moans he managed to produce.

“...You know, I'm not surprised. This was the expected outcome. But that doesn't mean I'm not disappointed again!”

Though Elder Faerie could hear him, the sounds came through as if from under a thick layer of water. That was how it felt until he sensed a gentle and tender touch on his wings — just like before…

Just a second before, Elder Faerie understood what was about to happen to him. The weightless caresses turned into a firm grip, and then a complete clutch of his wings as if they were mere rags. Although his wings were much wider and longer than Shadow Milk's cold hand, it didn’t stop him. The fingers dug into the top of the wings, creating holes to hold onto. Elder Faerie never cried before in his life — not when he accidentally injured himself, not even when Shadow Milk left him. Now was the first time he felt the salty moisture streaming from his eyes in torrents, and was a bit surprised: his cheeks were already wet.

Shadow Milk slowly and calmly pulled Elder Faerie's wings toward him, savoring the sound of each blood vessel tearing away from the spine. Then, after a moment, he decided to change tactics — beginning to tear off one wing at a time.

“To one who isn't willing to give everything to soar to the highest sky, wings are worthless. They don't deserve them at all — right, Elder Faerie? But I'm not a despot, not at all: even though you're weak, I won't let you wander the world, tarnishing my name. I still value the time I spent on you, yes! I am responsible for what you've become — or rather, for what you haven't become. Each of us has undergone the baptism of pain — and you will too, and then we’ll be equal from beginning to end…”

This time Elder Faerie didn't even have a coherent response in words; he just whimpered and howled like a wounded animal, his voice broken from screaming. He could feel the warm blood soaking the shirt beneath his armor, flowing over his torn skin and the wounds, where his wings had been, sorely burned by the icy wind blowing through the Spire. And all that to the accompaniment of the crunch of bones being ripped from where part of his body was and Shadow Milk humming some faerie tune under his breath. His eyes stopped seeing again: but if they were simply “turned off” during the phantom arson, now in front of them was simply a white veil.

Crack! — with a sound resembling pulling a weed from the ground, Shadow Milk finished tearing off his right wing. As he began on the left one, Elder Faerie wanted to start begging for mercy again — but all the strength he mustered for it simply poured out as bloody vomit.

“Oh dear, how tender we are! Really now — did you need those wings so badly? Just look at me,” he carelessly tossed the already torn-off piece to his rotting heart, which still lay nearby. “The more we learn, the more we lose pieces of ourselves, ha-ha. I just don’t see the point in us rushing anywhere! It would be another matter if someone was still waiting for you outside…”

Elder Faerie felt as if he woke up from a fever dream. The bindings that still ensnared him, the legs that couldn’t support him any longer and had given way, even the second wing that Shadow Milk was so leisurely tearing from him: all became unimportant when he heard something happened to his people. He tried to break free again, and this time he succeeded — or perhaps his tormentor simply allowed him to. With inhuman effort, he crawled to the windowsill, where through the narrow vertical window he could see the field where his army remained.

Perhaps it was better not to look. It would be better to continue enduring and then quietly collapse into a pool of his own blood, waiting for death in silence. Elder Faerie, even through tear-blurred vision, could clearly see the field scattered with the bodies of his soldiers and their horses — not just a field, but a long-overgrown plain.

Where did he end up? What happened to the Spire, which was once the greatest library of the Southwest? What cursed magic has been placed upon it that he spent decades imprisoned here… how many years this torment actually lasted?

“Truth can hurt. That’s what I was trying to tell you, but…”

Shadow Milk’s laughter right next to his ear was not promising anything good.

“Elder Faerie… my dear, my beloved… your problem is,” the grip on the second wing resumed, “that you’re so easily deceived.”

The sharp jerk exceeded his expectations for pain. From the shock and overall blood loss, the fairy king collapsed into a coma, falling onto Shadow Milk’s bloodied hands.

***

The sight, or rather the state in which the soldiers found Elder Faerie, was... not pleasant. To be precise, they were genuinely shocked even on the way home: no one could understand how, in just that quarter-hour their king spent in the company of Shadow Milk, he could’ve been so brutally mutilated. However, Shadow Milk earned his name and became known as a Beast for a reason: apparently, even such renowned warriors as His Majesty were not all-powerful.

They felt the barrier dissipate around the moment when Elder Faerie swung his sword at his opponent for the first and only time. Then, in a disciplined, well-coordinated march, they moved toward the Spire, only to witness the following: the building began to tremble and rapidly sink in height. The tower threatened to collapse at any moment.

All thoughts of formation were forgotten instantly: the infantry rushed to their king's aid, only to find the narrow spiral staircase leading upward already blocked by rubble. The Spire was collapsing inward on itself — a complex engineering design by the Master of Knowledge himself, cursed be his name. The only way in was through the upper window, and that’s when they found him.

Elder Faerie lay by the window, his hair, soaked in mud, blood, and some kind of soot, splayed out across the floor like wings. And next to him… next to him were the very wings that had once graced his back. The king's face showed no emotion; his eyes stared lifelessly in the opposite direction. When the soldiers followed his gaze, they saw only the collapsed ceiling, with a piece of white and blue fabric protruding from beneath it.

In his hand, the king clutched a small moonstone.

At first, they thought he was dead. Understandably so — very few could survive the severing of limbs and such abnormal blood loss. There were no burns found on his body, and his spine remained intact, something Elder Faerie would later be very surprised by. They didn't bother to extract Shadow Milk from the rubble.

The guards were overjoyed, like small children, when they noticed his faint breath against the surface of their silver armor. The journey home took longer than the march to the Spire. Elder Faerie didn’t speak with anyone; it was as if he never truly regained consciousness after what happened.

But even without words, it was clear to everyone what he has been thinking since he woke up: this was not the end. With or without a body, neither Shadow Milk nor the remaining four would stop until their plans were fulfilled — and given the horrors they unleashed one after another, the outcome would be nothing good for the world.

Elder Faerie knew this, but he no longer had the strength to fight them. When he and his army were marching to the Spire, he was determined to protect at least his kingdom — and, if possible, Shadow Milk as well. Now he was unable to protect even himself: the wounds between his shoulder blades refused to heal, and his hands shook so uncontrollably that he couldn't hold a sword. It was probably from lack of sleep — after what he had endured, he could no longer close his eyes. Distorted, mutilated images haunted him, and Elder Faerie knew exactly who was trying to drive him to madness since that time and would continue to do so for years to come. Fragments of memories shuffled like a deck of cards, thoughts tangled, faces, locations, events shifted — but the horror that Shadow Milk planted in his heart never changed. And that damned smile. Everywhere he went, he saw the possessed, hateful eyes and the smile that still made Elder Faerie shiver.

Sometimes — and of course, as a ruler responsible for his people, he felt ashamed of such thoughts — it seemed to him that it would be better if his life ended there, on the Dark Side of the Moon. It would be better to draw his last breath as he once wished years ago: in the arms of the person who called him beloved, never again to worry about anything. After all, he was already old. The spring of his life had long passed, and even the unfortunate yellow robes that Shadow Milk so despised faded and lost their colors with time.

He had no reason to endure this pain any longer: the Forest Faerie King was only indispensable while he was alive. He had no illusions about himself or his winged people: they had enough time to find a replacement for him or to live without one, as they once did.

It was then — at that moment, when he leaned against one of the boulders on the sheer cliff and watched the storm — that the witches appeared to him, asking for one more service.

Elder Faerie clearly remembered that specific moment, as it became a turning point in his fate. Had he refused then, he would’ve peacefully allowed the raging waves to continue hurling their cold spray in his face until, in their final fury, they would decide to drag him down to the depths. But the witches, wrapping the eroded stone in a bright glow, prevented him from falling and asked if Elder Faerie was ready to become the new hero in place of the Five fallen.

Elder Faerie looked at them in return. His eyes hurt from meeting the light, in the midst of the fierce storm, but he didn’t even squint. To become the “new hero”? Did the world even need those heroes, who could be driven mad by some divine visage at any moment?

The witches didn’t go into details but explained that their fall was not their entire fault — and Elder Faerie believed them. He would’ve believed them anyway, even if they blamed him personally. At that point, he no longer cared what to believe: it didn’t matter whether they lied or told the truth.

“It is truly not the end. Nothing is over, Elder Faerie,” by the time they first called him by name, he couldn’t tell if he was crying himself or if it's just the downpour soaked him to the bone, “Your mission will be to guard the seal, behind which they will wait for the final days.”

“If I agree, will my wounds heal?”

The healing power of the Guardian, granted to him by the witches, was already closing the two bleeding strips on his back, but everyone understood that he wasn’t asking about that.

“If only you don't keep reopening them yourself.”

Elder Faerie gave his consent, already knowing he couldn't abstain from it, and the witches began their part of the deal, well aware that making any promises was futile. From now on, the healing of the Guardian of the Seal was a matter only he could control.

And, ironically, so was the destruction.

As for the place the witches chose as the prison for the Beasts, Elder Faerie appreciated its significance. It was the small tree on the very glade where they spent time together in their youth... He planted it on the day Shadow Milk told him he didn’t love him anymore: perhaps as a final attempt to distract himself from the end of the most significant chapter of his life. As long as the tree grew, he could avoid thinking about it and focus on something else.

A fantastic coincidence, when he thought about it — though he had no doubt that their choice was intentional.

It was the only way to explain how the small tree he planted for self-comfort grew to surpass any other in the fairy forest and could be seen from any point on the continent. According to rumors, it was thanks to the Beasts’ efforts that their homeland became a separate part of the world, cut off by the ocean from the land where most of the people had gone. This alone fully justified its new name, given in honor of its main prisoners.

Elder Faerie wasn’t interested in the fates of the remaining four — the fact that he himself played a role in Shadow Milk’s death was enough. And none of the gifts of higher powers, whether newfound immortality, the powers that the Five could only dream of, or anything else, could ease the irrational sense of guilt he felt for it.

Sometimes, when no one was around, he could sit for long periods on one of the branches, swallowing unspoken grievances and hurts, and repeatedly ask himself the same question. Why did he agree to all of this if he understood from the beginning that it wouldn’t get any easier?

The answer came from the rustling of silvered leaves on the Tree, which, at times — usually on the eve of the Dance of the White Moon — echoed in a cheerful, unfamiliar voice, “Then I want to never be apart from you!”

And Elder Faerie never figured out what to say in response. Neither then, nor an entire eternity later.

***

How many years had passed before White Lily appeared? By then, he had long stopped counting. Since Elder Faerie decided to drape the veil over the kingdom, time transformed from an abstraction into a physical, tangible mass that pulled him in like quicksand, swallowing him whole. Elder Faerie became one with it, like in some comatose dream, because that was the only way he could preserve the remnants of his sanity.

All because, at the beginning, when the victory over the Five just resounded as a triumphant news in every corner of the world, he continued to fight them day and night… in his own mind. But he didn't realize it then. To him, blessed by the light of the witches, it seemed that there still was no protection, that the danger still loomed over all of them, and that they had to run. It didn’t matter where, as long as he ran with a weapon in hand. Elder Faerie always preferred flying to walking; but ever since Shadow Milk decided to pay for his madness with Elder Faerie's wings, he no longer used them and always traveled on foot. Even when they grew back, Elder Faerie would forget they were there and always jump to his feet when a nightmare woke him — and nightmares haunted him almost every night. A gentle, soothing voice, visions of the past, warm touches… and words filled with fiery hatred and direct threats. Upon waking, he would see the eyes Shadow Milk surrounded him with through the dreams for a good ten minutes: it seems like he must’ve still had the power to pull his soul to his Dark Side of the Moon. And right after that, as if by a script — a faint noise and a subtle call from the forest.

Everyone was worried about the Guardian's condition, even his Silver Tree Knights, whom he had ordered to strengthen the border's defenses. But what they didn't expect was that His Majesty would be recklessly running through the forest, sword in hand, chasing a voice only he could hear. However, from time to time, Shadow Milk would toy with them as well: and then even those who once bitterly laughed at Elder Faerie's advanced age found themselves joining him in scouring the forest and the surrounding areas.

This continued until Elder Faerie finally found the inner strength to draw a line between his own struggles and the kingdom’s affairs. Allowing Shadow Milk to torment him with endless accusations was one thing, but letting it affect crucial decisions for his people was another. After all, he already offered him such an opportunity, more than once… it wasn’t his fault that Shadow Milk chose chains of the Tree’s roots over flower crowns. It took a tremendous amount of effort to break the habit of panicking whenever he caught a glimpse of a pair of colorful eyes disguised as violets or heard a whisper from the forest. The Knights were many, and they kept a vigilant watch. Nothing could slip past them — nothing the size of the Tree, at least.

As Elder Faerie gradually learned to trust others' strength, he had to start trusting himself as well. He stopped fearing that a single careless move would give Shadow Milk the chance to break free — and with that, the superstitious fear of his own helplessness slowly dissolved into the past. This shift led him to reflect on the horrors from the Spire: where once he was so shocked that he nearly sought to justify them, now he could calmly accept that the Five deserved any punishment the witches had for them, if not more.

Did it change anything in his heart? No. But at least it allowed him to look himself in the eye in the mirror and no longer find the desire to help Shadow Milk finish what he did to him.

And whether it was because of this or because enough time had passed, Shadow Milk's invisible grip on his jailer's throat gradually began to weaken. Elder Faerie, then still at the beginning of his path as the Guardian, naively hoped that the witches' purging wrath inevitably cooled their fervor, forced them to calm down, and eventually regain some composure. Sometimes — and this was still kept a closely guarded secret from any living soul — he could even allow himself to feel something other than muted fury and vain tears when near the Tree.

But that was before a guest in green arrived in the Silver Kingdom. And with her, the arrival of true spring coincided with the calendar for the first time since the Beasts were imprisoned.

“Tell me, dear child, where are you from?”

“I come from distant lands, united under the name of Crispia.”

“Crispia… Are those the lands where humans and dragons, deities and their gods went when there was no more land route here?”

“I… think so. To tell the truth, not many people still remember the existence of your continent: it isn’t on all maps. In my magic academy, I found only one very old map — it was so afraid of the light that I had to examine it in complete darkness.”

“Is that so?” Elder Faerie tried to hide it, but at the mention of “magical academy,” his fingers trembled slightly. “And what brought you here?”

“My mission,” her eyes sparkled as if she were a faerie, even though she was just a human, “is the path of knowledge that will help me find the great truth.”

“The great truth?”

A nod:

“Yes! I want to know how we humans and everything around us were created.”

For a moment, silence hung in the throne room — fortunately, White Lily suspected nothing.

“Ahem… that’s a very commendable goal. But to approach the great truth, you need to start with the small ones. Tell me, what do they teach in your academy?..”

White Lily, the first visitor from outside since the veil, seemed to “pull” Elder Faerie out of his centuries-long stupor and made him realize that it had indeed been centuries. Being a faerie came with its own conventions: before it was much easier for him to accept that ordinary, non-winged people lived far shorter lives than them. But so much time had passed that he grew unaccustomed to seeing anyone younger than three hundred years around him. No peers, of course — but still not a fragile mortal whose life seemed so fleeting. Her delight and enthusiasm reminded him of the grand celebrations they used to have — gathering all those who cared to join.

“Why aren't you celebrating with everyone, child?”

“I don't dance, Your Majesty.”

“Really? But why did you promise Silverbell and Mercurial Knight that you’d dance the quadrille once?”

She blushed and Elder Faerie smiled condescendingly.

“However, there's nothing wrong with changing your mind…”

“No, I... Please don't take it as disrespect, my lord.”

“Speak.”

Lily swallowed what she wanted to say quickly, and because she needed to choose her words more carefully, she began to stumble over her explanation:

“Well, you see... in our academy, and even in the outside world... not to mention how the locals joke around here... I don't want to make any assumptions, I just think that…”

“Just say it plainly.”

She looked away.

“I'm afraid that if I join the dance, I'll be pulled into a time loop.”

Elder Faerie's eyebrows shot up.

“Pulled... where?”

“They say that if a non-faerie joins a faerie dance, time ceases to exist for them, and by the time they wake up, many, many years might pass…”

To say he was shocked would be an understatement; he wasn’t so genuinely surprised by anything in a long time. Where did she even get that idea?

“...interesting. And do they say anything else about our traditions?”

“Oh yes, a lot of things — but I always knew that wasn’t true. There are rumors that a faerie can kidnap a baby and raise it as their own, while giving their own to humans, because it’s easier for them to handle their temper. I think there must’ve been some fatal mistake in the translation! It sounds just outrageous..”

Contrary to her expectations, Elder Faerie burst into genuine laughter. Kidnapping babies, and especially giving away their own! Their own, which are born so rarely and whose arrival is a reason to celebrate for an entire year!

“Another source mentioned that you’re allergic to cold iron…”

“Oh, really? Like this, for example?” He drew his recently forged decorative steel sword from its sheath, and Lily responded with a shy smile.

But in truth, there wasn’t much to laugh about here. Elder Faerie didn’t like discovering his people’s reputation in the outside world like this, by accident — but such were the costs of long years of isolation.. It was clear where these rumors came from: Shadow Milk, having lost the ability to torment him directly, didn’t waste any time and turned to his favorite pastime even from imprisonment. If his life's purpose had once been enlightenment, now it seemed to be deceit: surely he thought the pinnacle of comedy was to spread tall tales to people from afar about their forgotten neighbors, who had long been out of sight and mind.

And White Lily, with her desire to learn everything there was to know about them (and not just them), reminded him so much of…

No, no, he couldn’t bring himself to draw that parallel at this stage. Comparing her to Shadow Milk was simply out of the question — at the very least because Lily didn’t have his ambitions. However, she had the same thirst for knowledge and the same unyielding will, which was… no less frightening.

Being near White Lily made Elder Faerie realize just how much the world — and he himself — truly aged. No one marveled at shifting coastlines anymore because they simply stopped changing. No one stood in awe at the discovery of a new island because all of them were discovered a long time ago. The faeries, in their isolated world, remained much the same as they were at the dawn of their culture — without even noticing how little they’d progressed since then. They still had stargazers, a school of philosophy, and craftsmen... but they lagged far behind the astronomers, academics, and engineers of the outside world. Perhaps there was nothing to be ashamed of in that: no other people had a mission as dangerous as theirs. It was no surprise they chose not to expend their energy on maintaining external relations.

And yet now, when Elder Faerie listened to Lily's manner of speech — the speech of a daughter of a new age, and not such a young one, at that! — he almost regretted it. Almost...

Until the day of the Great Calamity.

How many years had it been since he last spread his wings? When did he decide to keep them folded so limply? Probably from the moment they had regrown. Elder Faerie truly believed that nothing would ever make him remember how to use them again, but the moment he heard the alarm horn, they carried him to the Silver Tree before he even had time to blink.

White Lily wasn't just a reminder of how much the world had changed around him — she was also a breath of fresh air for his mind, clouded by sorrow. When Elder Faerie finally found himself able to converse with someone again, he suddenly remembered that loneliness tends to romanticize the past and idealize cherished memories. Shadow Milk was never one to quietly accept defeat, so it was foolish to think that all these years, he was humbly hanging his head in regret for his crimes. His long silence was anything but a sign of submission. Unfortunately, Elder Faerie realized this only when a giant crack already appeared on the Tree.

From the crack emerged tens of thousands of furious, gleaming eyes, but Elder Faerie knew that they were all focused solely on him. The target wasn’t his Silver Knights, not the kingdom, and perhaps not even the Tree itself — it was him. Dark, insubstantial hands reached out from the gap, wishing to snap his neck, to choke him in their grasp, and drag him inside.

“Elder Faerie… my Elder Faerie…” — that voice again, one he hadn’t heard in so long that he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Shadow Milk began to pour far too much venom into something as simple as his name.

“Come here, come closer, push away all those pests and come to me.”

“Silence, Beast!”

They spoke in unison, and for a moment, the fearless Guardian of the Seal froze in terror: now she drew attention to herself.

“Elder Faerie... have you forgotten me so soon? Could you so easily replace me? Elder Faerie…” his ghostly voice echoed as if from a cave, with the sound resonance unpleasantly hitting the ears as he raised his voice. “Who is that next to you?!”

Elder Faerie didn’t immediately understand what he meant — only after White Lily blocked the passage with a vine did the meaning sink in. Millennia of imprisonment must’ve apparently eroded Shadow Milk’s remaining sanity if he decided to start feeling jealous now. And after what? After just taking hundreds of lives of his unfortunate knights? Or after repeatedly saying that he didn’t need him and considered him worthless?

Elder Faerie even felt a pang of resentment that all this time he had never even thought of looking at anyone else. At least, that would have made Shadow Milk’s anger towards him somewhat justified for the first time.

But just like everything Elder Faerie tried to use to fill the gaping wound in his soul, White Lily too couldn’t stay by his side forever. Just as the Silver Tree he planted to distract himself eventually became the prison for what he was trying to escape from — she inevitably followed the same path as Shadow Milk.

He stumbled upon her by chance in the forest, walking along a road out of the city.

“Do you know what attending that Banquet might cost you?”

“One person’s fate doesn’t matter when fundamental questions are at stake, Your Majesty.”

“But you haven’t answered mine.”

“…If my life is the price for knowledge, then it will be a worthy sacrifice.”

“Do you understand the magnitude of an event like the Witches’ Banquet? Not all secrets should be brought to light.”

“But of course I understand! I’ve come all this way — this is what brought me here in the first place! I’ve dreamed about this my whole life!”

“And if I tell you that once I lost someone dear because of it — will you heed my… advice?”

He barely managed to stop himself from saying “my request,” but even that wouldn’t have helped. No amount of persuasion, no arguments — even a compromise like sharing the power of the Guardian — would convince her. White Lily, with the same shining eyes she had at their first meeting, spoke of her love for the world and her desire to help people. And Elder Faerie listened to her, but heard the voice of Shadow Milk, speaking to him before vanishing forever from his embrace. Impulsive voice. Thoughtless.

With eyes like that, the most cherished wishes are made — wishes one regrets for the rest of their life.

“Then at least take this,” he said, placing a small blue stone in her hand that once saved his life (even if he didn’t fully appreciate it at the time). “If you ever want to return, use it at any moment.”

Lily accepted it gratefully, and Elder Faerie sincerely wished to protect her from harm. Yet, of all the teleportation artifacts he could have given her, he chose the moonstone deliberately, because wanted to channel some of his anger from the Great Calamity onto it. How dared Shadow Milk? It seemed he still infringed not only on omnipotence and power but also on him personally? Well, now let Shadow Milk see how Elder Faerie dealt with his gifts — let him see and be bitter.

It ultimately became a big mistake: what he failed to remember in his frustration was where exactly the moonstone teleports its bearer before reaching the destination. But what could he do now? White Lily, as she later confessed, would’ve returned from the banquet dead regardless of whether she encountered Shadow Milk or not. Elder Faerie suspected from the beginning that this would be the outcome, but he still secretly hoped that, maybe this time, disaster would stay away, hoped that Lily would return safe and sound, hoped... hoped...

What a useless habit, always hoping and stumbling over the same obstacles. It would be good to learn to finally unlearn it.

***

When it happened a second time, it was evening: the stars glanced unobtrusively from above, and the moon shone dimmer than the setting sun. Elder Faerie felt with all his being that something very important was about to happen, that a stage in his incredible, astonishing, painfully long life would come to an end. Or in someone else's: it was no coincidence that two new bearers of Souljam volunteered to confront the escaped prisoners.

He didn’t regret anything. Not resurrecting Lily, nor ultimately deciding to pass the reins of leadership to her. The mischievous glints in her eyes, which he once took for mere enthusiasm, turned out to be something far more powerful and uncompromising — just as befits a true Guardian. A pity he didn’t pay more attention to her words in the forest on the road… This might not have lessened his grief a day later, but at least it would have solidified his opinion much earlier.

When the Five were free again, Elder Faerie didn’t face them with everyone else and didn’t hear Shadow Milk's voice — he didn’t need to, to know. The stone by the head of his bed glowed with a blue light, and the air filled with the familiar aura: too heavy for a home of merry folk but too intrusive to just ignore it. Elder Faerie found himself unable to escape it — he tried, of course, but it had embedded itself so deeply into his subconscious, impressed in the contours within his body at a cellular level, that the only true solution was to stand up and face it head-on. To finish what was started. And to settle the score.

When he arrived, Shadow Milk was unleashing a torrent of scathing remarks, still as cloyingly sweet as on the day of his defeat. His incorporeal form hinted at this — unfortunately, no less weak than Elder Faerie's at that moment, but still immaterial. It would’ve been a sin not to jab back at him with it.

But for some reason, Elder Faerie didn't. Perhaps it was because he had no more strength left for it — neither in the literal nor metaphorical sense. Meanwhile, Shadow Milk showed no signs of stopping — of course not. Every illusion, every deliberately distorted faerie, every line and even the pauses between them were meticulously planned and refined to a mechanism, like his puppets, which he had managed to mimic. Even to an outside observer, it was clear that Shadow Milk planned the entire “performance” a long time ago. How many years had he spent talking to himself, imagining the scene inside his head? How many times had he pondered making the paper rain around him consist of pages from that very first, woefully failed poem, scrawled with obscenities — back when he didn't know the faerie musical notation? How many times had he rearranged lines, added and removed characters, always keeping an eye on them from every dark corner?..

And, of course, like any self-respecting impresario, he didn’t allow his personal feelings to interfere with the performance to the extent that the integrity of his script would be at risk. Not once during all this time, since his first attempt to escape, did he refer to Elder Faerie by name: only nicknames and epithets, the most prominent of which was “the Fool-King.” There was a certain echo of bygone times in this, when he could spend whole days calling him “stinky” or something equally unserious in jest, to avoid uttering his name in vain. But back then, it had a completely different meaning…

How long ago all this had been.

And now, watching as Shadow Milk rampaged through his kingdom, wreaking havoc and staging his performances, mixing truth with lies and lies with his distorted perception, tormenting his unfortunate people again and again, Elder Faerie understood two things. First: even witches make mistakes. Choosing to imprison such a mentally unstable being with such unimaginable power was a fatal mistake. What was time supposed to cure here? Why leave him alone with beings like himself: scarred by something old and forgotten, and eventually — by each other?

And the second: he should’ve never agreed to be the Guardian of the Seal. Simply because he was initially too deeply engaged in the whole situation, both physically and emotionally. His task was to prevent the Tree from splitting apart completely: and while Elder Faerie succeeded in shielding it from external invaders, he lacked the strength or wisdom to handle those who were already inside. He felt like a complete failure.

He felt that he wanted to finally give up — despite how much his people and the rest of the world depended on him. Indeed, a Fool-King, but it couldn't be denied: Shadow Milk really did know him far better than he wished to believe.

Elder Faerie knew that the other Beasts rushed to their places of power as soon as the passage opened. No matter what visions Shadow Milk prepared next, they were no longer there — though he forgot to mention that before he died. Over the years, Elder Faerie had also considered countless scenarios for his death. A random rockslide on a craggy cliff, a carelessly released arrow from one of the Silver Knights, mundane old age — or perhaps, the exhaustion of life force. With half of it having gone into bringing White Lily back, the years that had been halted a million years ago began to rapidly reclaim their due. Even if Shadow Milk didn’t deliver the final blow, he would soon have bid farewell to life, unable to withstand the weight of the inexorably approaching entropy.

“White Lily… come here, child…”

In any case, his personal feelings didn’t matter in the face of the world's fate. It seemed that Lily herself said something similar to him once…

And before her, Milk did.

“I ask you to take on this burden because,” a bloody cough again: but this time the damage was entirely real. “You're the only one who can continue my legacy. You’re the only one who can build the world we always dreamed of…”

Was he ashamed of it now? He might’ve been, if his fading consciousness wasn’t blurring the images of those dear to him. The world that Elder Faerie spoke of, he loved to imagine with Shadow Milk when they were still together. They especially enjoyed picturing it at night, watching the carefree dancing faeries from afar, from somewhere on the outside — and every year, as it changed, they remembered it with the thought that they were already a hundred steps further than the year before.

The Dance of the White Moon was their benchmark and measure of progress achieved. This time, its arrival would be the starting point for the kingdom’s life without him.

But Elder Faerie was never ashamed of his past, even if he regretted it longer than three of his usual lifetimes would last. The moonstone he carried with him as a proof — of what, it was unclear, since Shadow Milk refused even to call him by name — had long since cracked from the passage of time and the amount of energy it channeled. Yet it was still with him, right there in the chest pocket, where Lily placed her hand, unsuccessfully trying to breathe some power into him. Where he felt a hand that seemed to belong to someone else.

That’s why he decided not to leave a body behind. Shadow Milk dispersed for a moment, but how would he react when he reappeared and found that Elder Faerie had finally died? Would he laugh, rejoice? Would he mourn uncontrollably, seeking forgiveness in glassy eyes? Or would he simply not care? Then whose hands are so tenderly holding his neck, caressing his chest, searching for a pulse?..

Better not to torment him needlessly. Gods see… no, he himself saw it: life had already punished him, and now he couldn’t even say if it was enough.

Elder Faerie smiles, takes a weak breath, and goes still — and when he opens his eyes, he sees only a sharply wavering shadow and hears distant echoes of someone’s familiar laughter.

There’s nothing, essentially, to regret: he didn’t abandon his kingdom to fate but entrusted the power of the Guardian to one who is worthy and fully capable of handling it. His soul no longer bears bitterness… in the end, he lived an entire life with Shadow Milk. The remaining eternity is merely the consequence of its unfortunate ending, but it is too late to worry about it now. At least, the memories of the meeting at the bellflower field — and what followed afterward — time can no longer take away from him. This must be… this is enough.

Elder Faerie would have smiled if he could, but instead, he takes a step back and rustles through the leaves, repeating everything he managed and failed to say during his life. But one couldn't deny the truth… If Shadow Milk made any promises, he made them with the utmost care, with sincerity and earnestness. Therefore, the new Guardian will have plenty of reasons to continue their path for a long time, and the old one will have things to remember until their shadows meet again.

And the moonstone — the only thing left of him — will shine for many nights to come.