“We have to, it is the only way we will survive!” Says the man at the head of the table. His eyes are white, his hair pitch black, shoulder length with long whips of silver. He is fairly young, with a full beard and nice clothes. “But sir! This is dangerous! What will we do if we don’t have them? What if this does not work the way we wish it to?” Says a man in front of the black haired man. This man is much older. Gray hair and a long beard, forming into a point at the end. He had purple eyes, and hair going down to his feet. He too, is dressed nicely. His expression holds that of worry. He holds himself high, waiting for the other man to respond. “I told you I’m not changing my mind, we cannot live no longer if we grow. We must sentence them to death immediately! That is my final word on the matter” The man stands up, passing the older man in a rush, his robes flying behind him as he rushes down the stairs. The older man watches him leave, worry gone from his face. He now looks to be anxious, looking back to the table. He then follows the man, back down the staircase,

“Please! Please lady’s and Gentlemen!! The word of our king is to be told to us today. He has a message. And he would much appreciate it if you would all be a bit more quiet!” Yells a young teeenage boy standing on a chair, the common folk were talking, making this more of a socializing place then what it was ment to be. The trumpet men start the anthem, as the man with the black hair and beard walks out to the crowed. “Welcome one and all! I have an anouncement to make.” The king stands, waving at the people. The man smiling. In the background, the older man stands, fear shown on his face. “This, I know will come as a shock to many of you, and this might not make sense for the first few months, but, I assure you this will all make sense after a while. “ the people looked around confused. “The women will be killed.” The silence in the air was strong. The women in the crowd looked petrified, slowly backing away from the king. “Our population is growing too quickly, we must stop this before it gets out of hand.” The king continued explaining, but his words missed there ears, the older man in the background looked devastated.

"It must be done," he said to his subordinates, whos faces were an array of shock and confusion. "But why,sir?" the taller one asked. "What has she done to deserve this sort of punishment?" "What hasn't she done," he grumbled. "Let’s start with the fact that at every turn she has been a thorn in our side, causing all sorts of mishief and mayhem. Making us all look like fools and what’s worse, she is gaining the support of the people. Secondly, she knows too much of our real objective, and that in itself is cause for her to be caught and disciplined. If she revealed any of our plan to the rebels, we are all in deep shit. Thirdly, she has bewitched my son with her femininely wiles and turned that cowardly disgrace against me. Shall I go on or are you getting the point of what i am trying to say?" "Yes sir, I understand now." "Good. Now," he said as he rubbed his hands. "I want that irritant of a woman caught before the summer solstice. That’s a week from today. Can you handle that Captain?" "Yes, M'Lord," the Captain stammered. "It will be done." The Captain turned to leave. "Oh Captain," the Nobleman said, a smile contorting his face. The Captian turned. "Yes?" "Do make sure to bring the Hunters with you. I wouldn’t want them to mis out on their revenge." "Of course, M'Lord." "Good. Now go. Go and fetch me the head of that little wretch. Bring me the head of Ambergine Skylark, by any means necessary.”

“We have no choice.” “There is always another choice Grand Master!” “We are running low on food, and land, and crops. It’s the only other option!” “Silence! I have made my decision. We will hold the annual hunger games, twice a year. The age range will be 10-19 years of age. Two boys and two girls will enter the games, fifty people in total. The boys chosen have to be dating and in love with the girls chosen. When it comes down to it, the girls have to die. We can’t have them continually reproducing like animals. The kingdom will never survive. We will have two victors. The only rule with the victors is they have to be a couple consisting of one male and one female. As their reward they get to live their life in peace, and have two children if they wish. Other than that, I forbid anyone in the kingdom from having children. If there is a woman currently past 36 weeks pregnant she may give birth to the child. If the woman is less than 36 weeks pregnant they shall not be allowed to bare the baby. Once she gives birth, drown it.”

“I made up my mind, and it’s final.” “But your highness…” “Are you contradicting me?” Silence fell on the room and nobody dared to talk. “Good. I’m your queen and I don’t like being told what to do.” She stood up on the desk and looked around, challenging people to answer. “You asked me to find a husband to abide by the law. That was something I didn’t want to take lightly and I still don’t. Having a husband might undermine my authority in some of your minds and I won’t have that under any circonstances.” “But, your highness…” the grand chancellor started. She stopped him with one finger held up. “You wanted me to make a decision, and my decision is final. From this day forth, my court will hold a harem of men at my disposal. I will be free to chose a favorite to marry and keep the others at my disposition. Of course, each one of the contendants will have to be carefully chosen and agree to this disposition.” She straightened and looked around once more. “Now, does anyone has anything more to add?”

“Your Highness, please reconsider,” the Right Hand gently urged. “The hill people make important contributions to our kingdom.”

The King could barely contain a sneer. “They are not part of our kind. It is time to end this farce. The hill people will be rounded up and shipped away from the Kingdom across the sea.”

“Who will clean our homes? Tend our gardens? Cook our food? My Lord, the hill people have lit the candles in this very chamber and washed our vestments!”

But it didn’t change a thing. The hill people were rounded up and sent away across the sea.

The plague started not long after. It was discovered that the hill people carried a virus that kept the entire kingdom healthy. Their contributions were more than just labor, it seemed.

"We've reached an agreement." The high priest at the head of the table spoke with his hands folded in front of him, resting upon his massive desk at the alter of the temple. Two priests dressed in traditional robes standing on the other side of the table eyed the weathered old man in front of them, their eyes narrow.

"We aren't supposed to negotiate with them," the robed man on the high priest's left said, the inflection in his voice hinting at the questioning to come. "They've taken the lives of thousands. Decimated our cities. How, pray tell, could you have struck a deal with the Demons? Who gave you the right?"

"Ahhh... my child. Must we have let the war continue? No, no, we don't have strength." The old man shook his head as he talked.

"What kind of deal does one make with a Demon?" the other robed priest spoke up, his voice harsh in tone and cynical.

"The killing of our people will stop, that is what's important," the man wisped to the two men staring at him darkly.

They shifted in place uncomfortably. The high priest was hiding something from them. "We will have the details now, high priest," the man on the right demanded.

"Very well, very well. A sacrifice, once a week. The killing of a calf in the name of the Demons' high king Sandara. The killings will stop, the war will end. It is a sensible offer." The grey high priest's eyes strayed from side to side, scanning the two men in front of him as to gauge their reactions. He wondered if they'd see through him.

"A sacrifice, to the high king of Demons?!" The rightmost priest slammed his fists on the desk. "This is an outrage. The people will not agree! They will not bow to the Demons!" The man was practically red. A vein stood out among his forehead and his eyes bulged as his gaze burned a hole straight through the aged high priest.

The elder stayed calm. "They will, my son, they will. When they want the killing to stop, they will. The threat is too large, and our citizens run scant. Our cities are scarred from the killings. It must come to an end."

The robed priest on the right continued his tirade. "The people... they aren't gonna like this. We will be shunned, excommunicated. They will look at us as traitors, as conspirators with devils."

"Ah yes, the people, the priesthood. It will hurt, won't it? Not as bad as it hurts me. Your wounds are superficial, they will heal with time."

The leftmost man bit his lip, his eyes opening wide as if in a sudden realization. A realization that still had not arrived to the man on the right. He spoke. "What do you mean by that, high priest?" His words were whispered out in a low, leery tone to match the suspicious look on his face.

"A soul, child. The deal also requires a soul."

At least she said it straight to your face Could have disappeared without a trace Doesn’t hurt any less that’s for sure Her intentions were somewhat pure No point sticking around for an encore There really is nothing left to restore Go get all your honeymoon packed bags Should have paid attention to the red flags That led you to the devil in a white dress Ditching you in a state of utter distress

WHAT WE WERENT TOLD. . . Vargas looked around at the translators behind each government offical. He sighed and turned to his translator, Alliè. "We need to decide on ONE language so these worker's lives aren't in danger." He said peacefully, watching as the most officials turned with uncertain eyes to there translators. The Commonwealth's Emporor was one of the few to nod his head in agreement. He spoke English, stumbling on every other word, "I agree, if Lunars want our secrets they may take translator captive." He finished with a thick accent. World leaders again turned to there translators. The African minister spoke a South African language that he (to his knowledge) didn't know. Vargas too joined to other country leaders in looking at his translator. "He agrees. He said all countries should learn English because it's one of the most popular." Alliè said gracefully. "Do you know how hard this will be for the people though?" Someone said with an accent. "All in favor for using one language?" Vargas said looking back at the screen. Ever leader but one, raised their hand. "Settled," He finished turning to the portscreens speaker, " Screen off." He stold up and stretched, pleased with himself. He'd helped solve a problem to his knowledge. . . for all they know the thereoies could be true. They may have secret chips inside there screens listening to Every. Last. Word. And there was no need to interrogate innocent Earthens. He shook it off, everyone knew thoes were just rumors. Or were they?

(They are all from different areas and understand each other in the books which bothers me. I wrote this last year. SORRY FOR THE MANY ERRORS!)

The two dukes climbed the steps to the king’s chambers, hoping for a resolution. His graces, Lord Beckford and Lord Thurston, had been in a decades-long blood feud, dating back two generations. Beckford’s great-great-grandfather had stolen parcels of land from Thurston’s ancestor. The two dukes had battled it out in a duel that saw Lord Thurston’s great-great-grandfather ram a sword into the belly of the conniving Lord Beckford. Since then, the families have been at war, with each side claiming bloody victories. The two would duel tomorrow. Lord Beckford had just signed off on a document when a rap on the door jolted him. He ignored the stammering servant, profusely apologizing for the interruption, and stretched his hand forward to take the missive. Spotting the royal insignia, he skimmed it. It was an order to come to the castle at once and refusal would mean certain death.

Beckford’s heart beat with trepidation as he entered the castle, a far contrast from the excitement he used to feel as a child coming here with his father to witness the pageantry. He stood nervously, observing the detailed etchings on the walls. The few times he had stood in this room, he never had time to observe its careful craftsmanship.

“So good of you to come quickly. I take it the roads were not too terrible?” the king’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“No, your majesty, I was most fortunate in travel,” he replied, bowing deeply in front of the king to kiss his hand.

Suddenly, the footsteps of another became louder. Beckford opened his eyes and saw the familiar crest of his enemy approaching. Lord Thurston was here, but why?

“Since you both are here, let us dispense with the pleasantries,” said the king, reclining slightly in his seat. “Normally, I could not care less about two men wishing to tear each other apart like rabid dogs, but you both possess two of the largest duchies in the kingdom. Surely, you are both aware of the tensions with France,” he said.

Both men stopped seething and faced the king. They were well aware of the impending threat. The French king’s request for access to a critical English waterway had been denied because of a failure to repay a debt. Rumors swirled he had begun plotting with some mercenaries for revenge. The kingdom, typically tranquil aside from the Beckford-Thurston feud, had been on edge for weeks now.

“The peace between France and England is fracturing with each passing day and war looms closer. You both must convince the other lords to fight for my cause!”

“Your majesty, the other lords are weary of war. Many remember the last war with France, the money spent, the land burned, and the fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons buried in the cold ground,” Beckford stated with a quiet resolve.

“Additionally,” interrupted Lord Thuston, “the lords in the West will refuse to support any cause having to do with Lord Beckford and his band of scoundrels!”

Lord Beckford narrowed his eyes dangerously, imagining his revenge for the insult.

“Enough, this feud of yours has gone on far too long, and since I need both of you for what is upcoming, I propose a solution to end this nonsense: a marriage betwe-”

“Marriage!” the outraged dukes yelled simultaneously, nearly forgetting who they stood before.

“Yes, marriage between your daughter, Lady Beckford, and your son, the Marquis,” the king said proudly.

“Betrothed my daughter to this filth, your Majesty? I would rather send her to nunnery,” Beckford retorted, his face turning beet red at the thought.

“Likewise, your Majesty, I have already pledged my son to Lord Dustin’s daughter. The match would bring vital Scottish lands into the family. Beckford’s daughter provides nothing of value to us,” countered Lord Thurston.

“Luckily for all, it is not your decision. I shall hear no more on the matter. The banns are being posted as we speak. Within a month’s time, I want both Lady Beckford and Lord Thurston married in the church, thus uniting both dukedoms. The neighboring lords will have no choice but to pledge their support for this war. Gentlemen, you must swallow your pride and allow this to happen for the greater good of the kingdom,” the king replied, leaving no room for argument.

The king stood up from behind the table and gracefully descended the steps, leaving the two men stunned.

Erika held out her wand. “Like this?”

Her mentor, Alexis, watched. “Perfect! Now, hold on a moment…” she hurried over and gently tucked Erika’s thumb behind the handle. “There. That should feel better.”

“Whoa… it does. A lot. Thanks!”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Alexis gave her a wink. “Now. Ready to try something a little daring today?”

“Sure,” Erika said, smiling. “What have you got in mind?”

—

“They’re getting closer, sir,” said the General.

The king raised his head. His eyes were dark and shadowed, as if they contained horrors no human should ever have had to experience.

“We could barricade the castle,” the captain suggested. She and the general were standing in front of the throne, light spilling in from a large stained glass window on the wall.

The king’s voice sounded hoarse. “That won’t stop them from raiding the villages.”

“But why?” asked the general. “What’re they after?”

The king growled at him. “You know exactly what they’re after.”

—

“Veehoya!” Erika shouted.

A jet of bright golden light shot from her wand, soared across the practice field, and hit their training dummy. The dummy began to glow, and then, very slowly, levitated the tiniest bit.

A moment later, it fell.

“That was a lot better, Er!” Alexis cried. She clapped Erika on the back. “It got up in the air that time!”

Erika snorted. “Not really. Only for a second.”

“But you’re improving. That’s what matters!”

Erika blew out a breath. She wasn’t too sure about that.

—

“You can’t be serious!” cried the general. “You want… you want to exterminate them?!”

The king glared. “It is the only way to keep our kingdom safe.”

The captain shook her head. “Sir, please. You can’t do this. You’re talking about killing hundreds of innocent fairies!”

“The raiders will kill them, and thousands of others, if we don’t,” the king said bitterly. “They can’t hide. No one can.”

—

“Try focusing more on grounding yourself,” Alexis suggested. She moved behind Erika and placed her hands firmly on her pupil’s shoulders. “Close your eyes. Feel your body.”

Erika closed her eyes.

“Feel your feet on the ground. Feel your middle. Feel your lungs breathing in and out… in… and… out…”

Alexis let some of her own magic flow through her fingertips and into Erika, sending little pink sparks seeping into Erika’s shoulders.

Erika felt herself start to sway.

—

“That’s not going to stop the raiders!” The captain insisted. “They want the fairies’ magic, but they also want our gold. Killing the fairies won’t stop them from coming.”

The king narrowed his eyes. “If you have a better solution, I’d love to hear it.”

The captain fell silent.

“I could send more soldiers to the border!” The general piped up.

“No. Even if we could send twenty thousand soldiers, and it would be useless. The only thing we can do is ensure they won’t become more powerful.” The king stood, then turned to look solemnly out the window. “Believe me. Ten years ago, I lost my daughter at the merciless hands of those monsters. Nothing will stop them. Nothing.”

—

Alexis watched as Erika crumpled to the ground.

She then pulled up her sleeve and tapped the daisy chain on her wrist twice. A flickering, holographic image of a man materialized.

“Good work, Agent,” the man said in a cold voice. “Gods, it was such a great idea to get a witch on our side, wasn’t it?”

Alexis rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How much are you paying me for this, G? And when?”

The man chuckled. “I told ya’. Once we raid the kingdom, you get summa the loot. Plus a third of the fairy magic we manage to extract.”

“You said half.”

G snorted. “Keep dreamin’, little girl. Now. Unlock the doors to the fairy academy.”

“I hate it when you call me that,” Alexis grumbled, but she went to unlock the doors.

—

“Sir, I can see them on the horizon!” The captain gasped. From her vantage point, a group of raiders was visible out the window, blurry shadows charging into the night.

“Let them come. I have nothing left to fight for,” the king said, and he sank into his throne, defeated.

“How did they even get in?” The general mused.

The captain huffed. “Does it even matter? What does matter is the lives of our subjects. You may not be fighting, but I will! I, at least, have some dignity left!”

And she stormed out.