"The Pixies are soldiers my liege," Olga explained carefully. "They were created long
ago by the Fairies to fight in the Holy War against Godranth the Fallen. The Pixies are their
militia. They are bred to be the best, and they are bred to die." Malekith huffed in distaste
as his eyes scanned the tome in front of him; a history of fairy society. It was true after all,
the Pixies were genetically designed for battle. His eyes turned to slits as he continued
reading.
"Pixies don't go back to the realm of the Fae when they die?" He inquired, disbelief
written all over his face. Olga sighed.
"No, no they do not. They are reincarnated in the land of Aeternum. The pixies are
born from flowers, and it is said that they never truly die. Their souls live on forever in the
form of pixie dust, although divided amongst many flowers like pollen. One soul can give
life to tens of pixies in the next generation. However, in very rare cases, a pixie will receive
all the pixie dust of a previous pixie; as to say, the pixie that died would likely remember
their previous life and simply be reborn." Olga looked down. "The only way to kill a pixie
entirely is with a blade forged of Phoenix fire." Malekith was silent for a moment and his
eyes seemed glued to one of the pages; a picture.
"Who is this?" He asked quietly, his claw pointing at a painting of a pixie. Olga
smiled, her eyes holding a warm recognition as she looked at the illustration. It was quite
accurate in Olga's mind.
"That would be the very first pixie. Most people don't know her name, as it's been
lost to the winds of time, but I remember her as Luna. Luna Lovell. It is said that she was
cast out as a child to the dark side of the moon and that her pixie dust was laced with moon
and stardust. She was very powerful, but alas, she gave her life to stop Godranth."