Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 13
Maddox
The Light Fae developed a hierarchy of status when they created the dimension of Faere. Nimeyah used a large piece of stone magic to make the overly bright and synthetic world and declared her other original fallen angels as nobility. She parceled out magic to them in greater quantities than others and over time and with evolution the nobility and gentry increased their power while the lower class had almost no abilities.
While the nobility and gentry could travel by bending distance, the lower class had to walk or ride animals. The upper class could conjure a ten-course meal while the poor had to grow their own food and cook it.
It doesn’t mean they are totally without means. For example, the poor are still immortal and have incredible strength. They can produce a glamour to hide their true nature but past that they’ve got no special abilities.
Even so, they are, in general, a happy lot content to live simple lives.
Nimeyah cared nothing for the less fortunate, and they tended to settle in areas away from her castle, making do with what the land provided.
In contrast, the Dark Fae weren’t as organized in their caste system. The original fallen angels had the most power that evolved over time with stone magic and those loyal followers were blessed and granted magical boons. The danger in Dark Fae is underestimating their abilities because you never know where they stand historically. Evolution in the Underworld tended to produce some pretty twisted creatures—both physically and emotionally. While Dark Fae could be every bit as beautiful as Light Fae, some were hideous because their magic was insidiously more evil.
Which is why whoever is tearing holes in the veil and coming over to commit murder can only be assumed to be the darkest of creatures. Light Fae can be cruel and vicious, but Hell has a way of producing the worst. I’m confident Deandra and the citizens of Faere are the victims here.
Geyrale is a small community on the very edge of an expansive forest with trees as big as the California redwoods, except these trees have pale, lavender-colored bark and dark purple leaves in a fluffy crown at the top. The town itself is mostly one- to two-story buildings of wood and stone with a few cross streets in between for wagons and horses to traverse. More homes are built up around the edges and extend into the forest where the climate is cooler and the shadows darker as there is no sun to penetrate the canopy.
I appear on the outskirts and make my way through the city center. I immediately find my best source of information, a small bar with a wooden sign hanging on the eave that reads The Pub.
Doing nothing more than stepping into the doorway, I make eye contact with the bartender. No one would ever mistake me for a fae or a mortal, so it’s often assumed I’m more by my height, size, confidence, and the magical aura about me.
I get no pushback when I ask, “Where’s the Scryer live?”
“Follow the road north out of town and into the forest. There’s a small bridge you’ll cross and to the left of that is his house.”
I give a nod of thanks and after a nice five-minute walk, I’m standing outside a small stone house with a rough wooden door and cloth covering the windows.
I’m poised to knock when I hear someone walk up behind me. I turn and see a man of indeterminate years (since fae are immortal) who appears in his thirties, as most do. He’s got vivid red hair, cropped short, a trim beard, and electric-blue eyes.
In his hand are three dead rabbits tied to a wire.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come,” he says as he moves past me and around to the side of his house.
Not surprising. He sees the future. I follow him to a long table with two stools. He tosses the animals on the surface and pulls out a knife.
“Sit,” he says, nodding toward a stool. “We can talk while I dress my dinner.”
I was created mostly to fight wars for the gods, so blood and gore have been a part of my life for thousands of years. But while I can cut off a man’s head without a second thought, cutting an animal isn’t my thing.
“I’ll stand,” I say, leaning against the house. “So, you know why I’m here?”
“No,” the man says. “Only that a demigod would visit. You’re Maddox. And I’m Faush.”
“How is it you know I was coming and my name, but you don’t know why? Are you shortsighted?”
Faush chuckles as he unstrings. “I’m not shortsighted at all and see as well as I ever have. I just chose not to look into the why of your visit. I like a little surprise and mystery. However, if you’re here about the tears in the veil and the recent murders, I’m afraid I don’t have any clear visions.”