The kinds of elves, born of fae ancestors so long past; all trace of their mischief fizzles out like bubbles in a long-rested wine glass. But a mother never forgets her child, and bound to the spine of the world along the rest of the queen fairies she may have been, but she'd watched her daughter suffer long enough.
'What are you planning to do, Tatiyana?' A voice whispered in her pointed ears, a warning of sorts–one she chose to ignore without a second thought.
'Play your own games Tatiyana and leave my board empty of your pieces.' She responded and silenced loomed in the ever dark. But then came a clatter of chains, yet another fairy mother had been rattled, for once she too had been in the same dark place in her head.
