I once kidnapped one of the healer dryads, a priestess of their hippie forest loving cult, and she cried as I threatened her with my blade - yet the threats did nothing. Her eyes were full of fear as she swore she couldn't do anything. That night I let her go and broke the only cupboard we had in our wagon.
Then why…
If she couldn't…
How could that pitiful alchemist produce such a healing touch?
That night I do not sleep. I lie still in my bed and I stare at the ceiling, my lips shivering. It simply went against all the laws of nature. There is no cure!
"You must've imagined it Nyx," I mumble to myself as I stare in front of myself, my eyes wide open, like an owl's. "It was just your imagination."
I shut the candle off, the only source of light, and turn onto my side, deciding to try and get some sleep. There is no use in breaking my head over this. I will only drive myself insane, running in the circles. I tightly close my eyes and try to still my breathing. I try to extend my senses, feel the gentle night around me. She had always been my friend. Her cover comforts me like a weighed blanket, draped over my body.
Then I sense a slight disturbance in the calm air.
A moth flies in through the window.
How odd. There is no light in the room.
Immediately, I realize - that's not a moth. It's a Mothimer.
I try to still my breathing as the little critter changes its shape, forming into a fae, a cloaked woman. I don't shift in my sleep, trying to seem as natural as I can in my sleep. An assassin from afar? From the Court of Fallen Leaves? What could they want with me?
Maybe it's Lady Cybelia they're after. My blades are at my sides - I don't go to bed without them. Professional deformation, if you so will it.
I expect her to raise a knife, a spear, anything… but she doesn't. She just stands and watches over me, like a ghoul, a terrifying shadow filling the room. Well, I'm not scared. I'm more annoyed. If she had pulled her weapon, I would've been able to stop this charade of pretending to be asleep. My neck is getting stiff from lying in this position.
Then there is a sound as she wraps herself in the cloak and turns into a moth once again.
Oh, this time I'm quicker than a snake.
I slam the window shut - the moth spins in confusion, frantically flapping its wings, perplexed - but I am faster. While it tries to make sense of what's going on I grab a glass and slam it over it, effectively trapping it. My breath is laboured as I light the candle to get a better look at the bug.
It's confused and panicked as it tries to escape the confinements of the glass, slamming into the edges, the dome that could easily signify its death. I smirk.
"Now I have you," I slyly say. "Turn back into your corporeal form and lets have a chat."
The moth stills. Oh, I can see it shaking its head. Well not literally, but metaphorically.
"No?" I stand up and look at the glass. "Well, alright then. I can keep you a prisoner for as long as I need to. And trust me, I won't fall asleep. I will stay awake, little Mothimer, for as long as I need to." I sit back on the bed, intently looking at it. "I just want to chat."
The moth still refuses so I sigh and lie back down, ready to be on my feet if need arises.
***
I didn't sleep. I stood the guard.
The dawn greets me with its golden and pink hues, shining through the cherry trees and their gentle white petals. New day calls me. I look at the glass. The moth is still there.
"Are you sure you don't want to just get it over with?" I say to it. "Might be easier. What stops me from squishing you right now?"
The bug very heroically stays silent. I frown.
"I can wait as much as I need to." I stand up. "Don't even bother trying to escape. The window and the door are locked, and I am the only one with the key." I also put a few books on the top of the glass to make it harder for her to transform, at least not without damaging her wings. A moment of transformation is a sensitive one and it's already painful enough without something closing in on you. I'd know.
Well, I'd know from those few times I had actually changed my form.
"Nyx, please!" Yvress screams as she reaches for me. The dragon's teeth are stained with blood from our comrades. I stare at her in fear.
"I am so sorry," I whisper. My cloak wraps around me. The pain is horrible as my body becomes smaller, turning into a moth - and with that, I fly off. I don't stop to look back and I try not to hear the screams of flesh being burned alive.
Since then I feel fire burning around me at all times, and my tears never manage to shut it off.
"I'll be back." I wag my finger at the moth and leave, locking the door behind myself.
Now, what to do? I grumble as I stretch my wings outside the room. I can't skip the practice, I can't exactly tell anyone either… I am not certain on who to and who not to trust. Everyone seems to be playing their own game. If this assassin is one of Prince's… well, then I am screwed. But why the hell would he work with the Court of Fallen Leaves?
Maybe it has something to do with Lord Udvar. He is a Mothimer after all. Is the Prince trying to get rid of me? Does he think that - oh, I have to laugh - that I will be playing hero and saving the Princess or something? No, I have no plans on doing that. There is only one person I'm trying to save and it's myself.
I am selfish.
I know I am.
I try to wear it as a dagger, as a strength… yet at night…
It's better left unsaid.
***
After I return from the practice I find Allure cleaning and singing a little tune.
"Allu-" I stare at her in shock. Oh fuck it. I forgot I am not the only one with the key.
"Oh, Nyx! I found a moth in the glass. I've let it out." She smiles and continues singing and dusting the room.
I wish I could strangle her.
***
A moth makes its way through the forests, flying much faster than any actual critter could, its wings powered by fairy dust. After a while it lands on the rails of beautifully crafted stairs from the wood. Everything around it is coloured in oranges, yellows, browns. The Court of Fallen Leaves stands tall and proud.
A male fae sits on a little bench, staring at the bug, waiting for his assassin. At last the moth transforms. It starts taking humanoid shape, its wings spreading wide. A fae stands in its place, nervously cracking her fingers and stretching her wings. Helmet with emblem of the autumn leaves covers her head.
"And? Is it her?" Lord Udvar stands up. He is a young man, his hair is long and dark brown, braided into a thick braid that cascades down his back. His body is strong and broad and it's obvious in his movements that he isn't only a man of words, but also a man of sword.
The assassin sighs in pain and shrugs. "I think so, my Lord. Should I inform the Queen?"
"No. Better not. I will handle it." He frowns. "There is no need to upset her with these news, Jesen."
Jesen shrugs and nods before taking off. She needs to get some pain medicine and rest. Shapeshifting isn't an easy thing to do.
Udvar stares at the falling leaves. He extends his hand, catching one, and then crumbles it in his hand.
"We will meet again, Nyx."
The crumbled debris is taken away by the wind.