A Fallen Faerie - Fyora's Tear: Part Two
She didn't pay attention to the conversation, which was led by King Altador, who had mysteriously shown up. She barely paid attention to Jazan, now visible again, picking up the thief by his shirt collar. But she did pay attention to what the thief said. How he talked to the orange Kougra named Brynn. Even though he was young, but he spoke with a wisdom. One that only comes along with pain and loss. She could tell that he cared for the Kougra, even if she didn't. Then they left. But they left with intentions to find Xandra. Yes, Xandra! She would know what to do! She would help save them. So she, along with the other faeries, she waited.
But something was wrong. The sky, it was different. It wasn't the usual bright blue dotted with fluffy white clouds. It was dark, turning a ugly violet. And lightning, it clawed the sky. And it felt strange. Like they were sinking. Slowly, the ground beneath them was failing them. And then creatures! Made of shadow, glowing dark purple, they slinked among the faeries. And then... they fell. It felt as if they were falling, free falling through the sky. Then they crashed, making everything shudder and break, crumbling from the impact. But the statues of her sisters didn't break, they didn't crumble, the rock surrounding them protecting them somehow. Fyora started to panic, her usual calm disappearing. What was happening to her city? Her people? Then it happened again. That flash. It happened again, brighter than before. And she was released, the rock around her melting and crumbling to gravel around her feet.
But oh, oh she was weak. She didn't realize, but being imprisoned as a statue drained her magic. She was weak, pitifully weak. Using her remaining energy, she stood, breathing deeply, clinging onto her magic staff, which flickered weakly. She squinted through the dust. She saw her sisters, fallen to the ground. She stumbled over to Trinity, who was lying in a curled heap, her long blond hair spread out around her.
"Trinity, sister, are you alright?" Fyora asked, shaking her shoulder gently. Trinity moaned, eyes closed. Fyora looked up, taking in the sight. Her sisters, all of them were on the ground, their magic drained from them completely. Taelia lay, her fluffy coat wrapped tightly around her. Jhuidah was crumpled on the floor, her tan face unusually pale. Jhudora and Illusen were leaning on each other, they couldn't even rise. Something very powerful did this. Someone did this. And Fyora had a feeling on who.
"Sisters, I will be back. Do not leave until I return," she said, her voice sounding brittle and weak. She cast a very simple charm on the collapsed pavilion, but it drained her so. No one would enter. No one could. No one, but Fyora herself.
She walked, using her staff for support. She walked among the wreckage of her city. Then she saw something. It was a group of people. It was King Altador! King Jazan! And Brynn. But something was wrong. She was kneeling at a statue. No. Two statues. One was an Ixi, arms held in front of himself, as to fend from an attack. The other. It was Xandra. Xandra! It couldn't be, though! But it was! It was her, but not her at all. She was about to leap, a deranged look on her face, hands outstretched as if to strangle the Ixi. She walked forward. And at once everyone bowed. She remembered asking what had happened. She saw the sadness in Brynn's eyes. So she had been right. The Ixi, Hanso, would be the faeries' savior. She would be in debt to him. She walked over. Even though she was severely weakened, she needed to do this. She released him from his statue form. She thanked him for what he had done. But she felt hollow. Xandra. She knew this day would come. She had felt it coming for a while now. She just didn't anticipate it happening. She left, taking the statue of her student with her.
And all that had happened fifteen years ago. But it seemed like yesterday. And it had been all her fault. If she had not brought Xandra to Faerieland as a child. If she had not taken interest in her magic potential. If she left her alone in the Haunted Woods. Would she still be evil? Maybe. But would she have come this far? Would she know the magic, if I had not taught her myself. Fyora did blame herself.
Xandra had been so promising. Such amazing potential. She had been so intelligent. She had been a scholar, soaring through her studies. She could work through a riddle faster than it had been presented to her. She had been so beautiful to Fyora. So beautiful with her long, wavy green hair, light speckled green and white fur, dark violet eyes. And powerful. She could harness her magic with ease, she could control her powers with such skill. She knew what to do with her endless magic. But there was that side to her. The dangerous side. She had a short temper, and could show intense anger. And soon, Fyora could feel her becoming different. Her view of the faeries became jaded. She left them soon, back to her home in the Haunted Woods. But she visited often, strangely. But it was her fault. It was because of her, Xandra became a monster.
Fyora couldn't stand it anymore. She stood, suddenly. She grabbed her staff and raced out the door. She climbed down the winding stairs, feeling more and more urgent. She heard thunder booming in the background. She didn't mind. Rain always passed by quickly in Faerieland. She felt someone follow her.
"Oh, Fyora, are you feeling better?" It was Trinity. Fyora smiled. Trinity always cared for Fyora's feelings. She nodded, trying to get her to leave. She needed to be alone for just a moment.
"Yes, thank you for asking. I must do some business, however," she said, a false happiness ringing through her voice. Trinity's brow furrowed for just a moment.
"But, it is nighttime; couldn't it wait until tomorrow?" she asked, following Fyora, much to Fyora's own dismay. She needed her to leave. If she found out... her plan would be ruined.
"No, it can't wait. And I need to do this alone," Fyora said simply. Trinity nodded slowly. She swam away. Good. Fyora walked toward the gardens. Xandra's prison.
Xandra always loved the gardens. She always thought that they were so peaceful, so calming. So magical. And they were, the Faerie Gardens were one of the places that was saturated in magic. And that's why she loved them so. That's why Fyora placed Xandra in the middle of one. Under a small gazebo, with ivy and flowers crawling up the beams of wood. Fyora planted flowers here, traditional ones, exotic ones, all colors of the rainbow, like a painter splashing paint on the leaves. Bushes and shrubs of all kinds, green pillows. Tall, graceful willows, shaded the area, using the branches as blankets almost. The entire place was green and lush, thick with the sweet scent of flowers; jasmine, rose, and gardenia. Honeysuckle and lavender. So sweet and peaceful. But the one thing that seemed out of place was Xandra. So still and cold. Outstretched, as if ready to pounce like a Kougra. Face stretched in a vicious scream. Hair being blown back. All frozen.
At first Fyora couldn't stand the gardens. No, not the gardens. But Xandra. She could tap into her thoughts. She could hear what Xandra thought.
"Why?! Why, Fyora, why?!?!"
"No! Hanso! You will pay for this!!"
"No! I was to rule! Me! No, no, no, no! It can't be! This was not destined to happen!"
"Curse you, Fyora! You will pay! You will kneel to me! You were made to kneel and you shall! Curse you!!"
She would shriek and scream that repeatedly. For several years, that was all Fyora could make out. Screeching and screaming those words. And they hurt. Like a rusty knife being jutted into her heart. But even then, the most painful of all; the endless screaming. No words, just one long continues wail of agony, anguish, hatred, and it wouldn't stop, just endless screaming. But after several years, she quieted down. She would be silent. That is until, Fyora walked in the garden. She would be utterly silent, but when she became aware of Fyora's presence, she would begin again, ranting and howling. But even then, years later, she was silent altogether. Even if Fyora stood by her, her warm hand on Xandra's icy-cold forehead, she would be silent. Dead silence. Not even the sound of breathing. And that is what disturbed Fyora. Xandra's silence was louder than her screams. It angered her, saddened her. She couldn't stand it. She would project her thoughts to Xandra, but she would receive no answer. And it hurt, oh how it hurt. It burned like venom. She was gone, and Fyora couldn't stand it.
And now Fyora stood in front of her, Xandra. She didn't say anything, just looking at her student. Lightning scratched the sky. Thunder growled. Rain began to pour down in heavy sheets. But Fyora didn't hear a sound. Just the silence. Xandra's silence. She couldn't stand it anymore. The silence, it ate at her heart, and she just wanted to hear her voice one time. She wanted to set things right. She wanted to tell Xandra how sorry she was. How it was her fault. How she just wanted to set things right. And no one would stop her from doing so, not her sisters, not the voice in her head telling her to stop.
She placed a manicured hand on Xandra's forehead. Concentrating, she used the same spell she did on Hanso those fifteen years ago. She would release Xandra. Just to talk.
The rock around her began to crumble, melting into dust and gravel. Xandra's face was still frozen into that scream of fury, but it melted away as soon as the last bit of rock fell from her body. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she sank to the ground, but not before Fyora caught her. Like the faeries, being imprisoned had taken the toll on the poor girl, making her limp as a rag doll, eyes closed, barely breathing. Fyora carried her over to a bench and sat down, laying Xandra on the bench, cradling her to her chest. And she began to cry. Not the silent tears, the few that usually fell from her eyes. But it was different this time. Tears poured from her eyes, dripping down her cheeks, falling on Xandra's own. And she couldn't help the sobs that rocked her body, the low moaning that emanated from Fyora's chest. They were bitter tears, sad tears, but they were happy ones as well.
Shaking hands brushed back thick locks of emerald hair, arms getting tighter, clutching the girl closer to her. And then she began to speak, her true feeling's revealed.
"Oh, Xandra... Oh, my sweet Xandra. I have been so lonely, so sad and empty. I have been so alone without you... So alone. You don't know how sorry I am. You don't know how much I have hated myself for what has happened. You don't know how much I want to take back what I have done, what I have said," she cried, hugging the still unconscious girl to her. She didn't care if she couldn't hear, she just needed to say what she needed to say. She continued on, on a shaky breath, her voice breaking.
"You don't know... How much I care. How much I love you, I love you so... I love you like a daughter," she said, breaking into more tears. Fyora continued, voice getting quiet, even though the rain was pouring down, miniature rivers as they fell from the roof. "I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't stand your silence," she finished. And she just sat there, on that bench, hugging Xandra close. She just kept stoking her soft hair, relishing the feel. She longed for the days when Xandra loved her back. But that was no more. But maybe. Maybe, if she was awake, she could forgive her. Forgive Fyora. Yes, that would work.
Brushing back a lock of her wavy green hair back from her face, Fyora placed her hand on Xandra's forehead once again. Using her healing magic, she revived her, pale pink and lavender tendrils rolling and seeping into her skin. Slowly her eyelids fluttered open. She moaned quietly, shifting slightly in Fyora's arms. But Fyora was just ecstatic. She smiled, violet eyes filling to the brim with joyful tears. She was alive. Just seeing her move around her blink was enough to move Fyora. That's when she new that she had been absolutely miserable for fifteen years.
"Oh, my head--" Xandra moaned, hand reaching up to feel her head, when she froze. Her eyes opened wide. She didn't move, she just stared straight up into Fyora's own eyes. "You... It's you..." she whispered, voice filling with horror. Fyora smiled weakly.
"Oh, Xandra," Fyora began, trying to stroke her cheek, but Xandra slapped her hand away, sitting up at once.
"W-where am I? W-why a-am I not a-a statue?" she said, trembling, her baggy clothing shaking along with her.
"I released you. I wanted to talk to you," said Queen Fyora, her voice becoming soft and reassuring.
"W-why? What do you have to say to me? To say that I'm evil? That I'm insane?" she questioned, her voice rising to be heard over the rain. Fyora shook her head.
"No. To say that I was--"
"What? That you were what? Wrong? Foolish to mess with me?" spat out Xandra, eyes slowly turning angry.
"No! I wanted to apologize for--" began Fyora, but she was interrupted again.
"Apologize for what?! Foiling my plans? Being a horrible ruler? Not being aware of your tyranny?!" she shrieked, violet eyes burning red. "You have a lot to apologize for, Queen Fyora," she retorted. Then a look of realization washed over her face. "How-how long have I b-been a s-statue?" she stuttered, eyes fearful.
"Fifteen years," she said, slowly. Xandra's mouth opened and closed, eyes filling with horror.
"Fifteen years? I've been gone for... fifteen years?" she squeaked. Fyora nodded solemnly. Xandra's face shifted into one of absolute horror. Then anger.
"How-how dare you! How dare you do this to me!? Everyone, everyone from the past, Brynn and Hanso, they-they are older than me!" she shrieked, standing up in outrage.
"Xandra, please--" Fyora stood up as well, trying to calm her down, but to no avail.
"No! Don't please me! You have taken everything away from me, my freedom, my life, my magic, even my true age!" she yelled, hands filling with neon-green energy. She began to walk away to the edge of the arches. Fyora followed her, trying to get her attention.
"Xandra, please, I just want to apologize for--"
"For what? Stealing fifteen years of my life? Being a monster? Not being able to see the errors of your ways?" Xandra countered, exiting, immediately being drenched by the rain.
"Xandra, please! I love--"
"No! Just stop it! Stop following me! Get away from me! I'll never love you, I'll never be your daughter! Just shut up! Shut up!" she howled, eyes burning with such a fury and anger, one that had never been seen before.
"Xandra--" Fyora yelled, trying to be heard of the pounding rain.
"I HATE YOU!" she screamed, and almost at once the rain stopped, making her voice echoing loudly. "I HATE YOU!" she screamed again, voice even louder. And that is what stopped Queen Fyora. Those three words. Xandra teleported away, with a bright flash. But Fyora just stood there, soaked from the rain. And she fell to her knees, sobbing once more. Those three words had been branded into her heart. She stopped crying. The moon overhead shined brightly, despite what had happened. Then she realized something. Oh no. Xandra had escaped. And it was all her fault.
"What have I done?" Fyora whispered.
To be continued...