“He certainly doesn’t look like he’s related to that man,” the Fae woman said, eyeing Noah up and down.
That’s what everyone says about us. Word for word, Noah thought before replying, “Do you mind if I ask—what did he look like?”
“Taller than you. Fair hair, the color of wheat.”
“Yup.” Noah nodded. “That’s my brother.”
“I see. That would make you a guest here,” the Fae woman surmised.
“Yes. He is staying with us,” Ciri replied.
“In that case, welcome.” She smiled. “My name is Bryndra Kaelveth, but you can call me Bryn. I see you’ve already met Hruk here.” She gestured to the dog.
“Bryndra is an artificer,” Ciri added.
“That means I forge metal using magic and muscle,” Bryn explained.
“Ah. Okay—that’s helpful. Thank you.”
“I got used to having to explain everything to a traveller for a bit,” Bryn said with a grin. “No offence.”
“None taken.”
“I was on my way to the forge,” Bryn continued, clipping a leash onto Hruk’s collar. “You heading that way?”
“Yes. We were on our way to the archives,” Ciri answered.
“Sounds like we’re all headed in the same direction, then.” Noah smiled, eager to see more of the town. “Why don’t we walk together? You can explain more about how this world works to me.”
“Where should I start?” Bryn asked as they set off at a leisurely pace.
“Let’s start with this guy.” Noah bent down to scratch behind Hruk’s ears. “How did you get him?”
“A travelling human trader sold him to me a few years ago. I wanted company for my hikes to the mines—someone who wouldn’t talk too much, but who I wouldn’t have to worry about protecting if we ran into something nasty in the wilds.” She gestured to Hruk, who barked happily, causing her to furrow her brow in confusion. “Normally he’s pretty protective of me. He doesn’t like strangers.”
“I like animals. I used to take care of them back in my world. Learned how to treat them, gain their trust.” He paused as another thought crossed his mind. “Though I’m a bit surprised to see a dog here. He looks almost exactly like the dogs of my world.”
“There is likely a good reason for that,” Ciri chimed in. “When humans arrived in Tenebrae, they sometimes came with their entire village—children and pets included.”
“Really?” Noah asked, surprised. “That seems… unlikely.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Well, for starters—the portal I came through was in a pretty remote region of my world. The nearest village would have to walk for hours, maybe days, to reach it.” He paused, thinking. “And I find it hard to believe an entire village would decide to climb down a spooky-looking ladder. A few crazy adventurers, sure—but the whole village? With their kids? And they’d have to carry their pets, too.”
Ciri shook her head. “According to firsthand accounts recorded by the ancient Fae, humans taken from your world came from many different locations. Different groups arrived at different times and often spoke different languages. Sometimes they came from places other groups had never heard of. None shared a common calendar either, so it is difficult to ascertain when this was happening. This gave rise to the theory that portals of different sizes were appearing over time. Some were small, like the one you experienced. Others were large enough to capture an entire village overnight—all at once.”
As Noah shuddered at the thought of falling asleep in his bed and waking in a strange realm, Bryn continued, “It’s not just your realm, either. Unstable portals appeared across lots of different realms. No other sapient creatures came through, of course—at least none that we know of—but it turned Tenebrae into a dumping ground for all sorts of creatures.”
“Yes,” Ciri agreed. “Their introduction caused ecological shocks that lasted centuries. Those that survived long enough to procreate are effectively native to Tenebrae now.”
“Like those… things that got me in the forest? The ones with the wings?”
“The glasswing stingers,” Ciri nodded. “Yes. That is one example.”
Bryn abruptly stopped. Noah realized they’d reached the edge of the town square. He slowly turned his head from side to side, taking in the array of shops, homes, and buildings arranged around the intersection. Several Fae looked at him with curiosity but seemed content to keep their distance. A pair of hand-pulled carts rolled by in the distance, their wheels creating an awful squeaking noise as they did.
“This is where I leave you,” Bryn said, pointing. “My workshop is over there. If you’re planning on staying a while, feel free to come visit. I’d be happy to show you how an artificer works.” Hruk barked again, causing her to glance at him as if he’d just betrayed her. “And I guess Hruk would be happy to see you again, too.”
Noah reached down to scratch behind the dog’s ears before smiling. “I’d like that. Apparently I need to wait at least until some trader returns, so I’ll be here for the time being.”
Bryn looked at Ciri. “Hænnaethrýael?”
“Yes.”
Shaking her head, Bryn looked back at Noah. “Yes. You might be a while. That girl’s a grimoire without a hand.”
With that, she turned and led her dog away, leaving Noah to look back at Ciri. “What did that mean?”
“The trader in question is… somewhat free‑spirited,” Ciri said. “She comes and goes as she pleases and does not keep to a strict schedule.”
“Great,” Noah grumbled. “Sounds like she and my brother would’ve gotten along perfectly.” He took a breath before shaking off his disappointment. “But you were right earlier – I can use the time to better understand this world, so that when it comes time to leave I’ll be ready to face whatever I come across.”
“We are almost there,” Ciri said, pointing to change the subject. “That is where we’re going.”
He followed her finger to the far end of the square, where the largest building stood—box‑shaped, three stories tall, and built from the same grey stone as the tower and Ciri’s house. Unlike the surrounding buildings, its roof was flat, and glass windows lined each floor.
When he turned to ask her about it, he realized she’d already started power‑walking toward the building without waiting. He blinked, then jogged to catch up, drawing more curious stares from the crowd.
“Ciri, I haven’t seen any male Fae outside,” he said as he reached her side. “I think your father was the only one I’ve seen.”
“Yes. Male Fae don’t often leave the house,” she replied as she climbed the steps.
“Is there a reason for that?”
“Biology. And the way magic works.” She stopped at the enormous metal door and produced a key from her trench coat. “I will explain later. This is more important.”
She unlocked the door and pushed it open noiselessly, already moving again. Noah followed, then placed a hand on her shoulder before she could go too far.
“Ciri, wait. I need to say something.”
She froze, then turned as the door swung shut behind them. “What… you…” She trailed off.
He withdrew his hand. “Sorry. I needed your attention. Now that we’re alone, I have to say something that’s been on my mind since we left your parents’ house.”
“Oh.” She looked down. “What would you like to say?”
“Your dad offered to pay me to be your friend.”
“I see.” Her shoulders slumped slightly.
“I agreed—but only because I didn’t want it to be misunderstood as a romantic offer to him.” Noah winced. “What I mean is… I want to be your friend regardless. Not saying anything would feel dishonest. I don’t want to get between you and your father, but I do want to be your friend. Genuinely.”
And maybe more someday, he added mentally as her blush deepened.
“I… would like that,” she said. “I knew about my father’s offer. He’s made it to others before. I thought you were going to say you’d turned it down.”
“What? No!” Noah said quickly. “You saved my life. So you have some personality quirks—so do I. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“You should still accept my father’s offer,” she said. “A favor from the tribe’s Watcher is rare.”
“Watcher?”
“Yes. I believe the human equivalent would be a ‘lord,’ though the concept isn’t quite the same. Fae society is matriarchal, so my mothers hold more power—their position is called Keeper. However—”
Noah held up a hand. “Okay, got it. Your parents are the leaders.”
“Of the largest tribe west of Rookhaven, yes.”
“Understood.” He smiled. “So—friends?”
“Yes,” she said instantly.
They went quiet for a long moment, with Noah doing his absolute best not to let his gaze drift down her body.
“Was there…something else?”
“No. Why don’t you show me what’s got you so excited?”
“Truly?” Her eyes locked onto his.
“Of course. Friends take an interest in each other’s interests.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him deeper into the stone building. The sudden contact startled him, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he squeezed her hand and let himself be tugged along. As they walked, he took in their surroundings, recognition dawning almost immediately.
A library.
The entry hall ran the length of the building. On either side, stone archways opened into rooms packed wall‑to‑wall with shelves overflowing with books. Between the archways stood marble busts of Fae women, each mounted on a pedestal bearing an inscription he couldn’t read.
At the far end of the hall, they emerged into a wide, open foyer. Several sturdy desks stood arranged across the room, more shelves lined the walls, and a staircase spiraled upward. A large map lay spread across one desk nearby—one Noah had to actively resist the urge to study—while enormous leather‑bound volumes occupied several others. The air smelled of wood and smoke, old and comforting, as though the books themselves were ancient.
At the center of the room stood a statue of a nude Fae woman carved from white marble. She was beautiful, holding a book in one hand and a spear in the other. As Noah drew closer, her eyes seemed to follow him, and he tensed despite himself.
“This is Nyraelyth,” Ciri said softly. “The last of the ancient Fae queens.”
“I see,” Noah replied, nodding.
“Her queendom spanned the known realm. Cities flourished. Art was celebrated. Nature was tamed, and social ills like poverty and hunger had long since been eliminated.”
“Sounds like a good place to live,” he said. “But given your tone—and my experience so far—I’m guessing it didn’t last.”
“It did not.” She gestured to the shelves around them. “Having solved their society’s greatest problems, the ancient Fae turned fully toward magic. According to surviving firsthand accounts, they achieved feats that are impossible today. Their grasp of magic was… absolute.”
“Let me guess,” Noah said. “They started experimenting with things they shouldn’t have.”
She blinked. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Humans have a long history of meddling with forces beyond our understanding,” he said dryly. Then, adopting a dramatic tone, he added, “The dwarves delved too greedily and too deep.”
She frowned. “What is a… dwarf?”
Ah. No dwarves.
“Sorry,” he said. “That’s from a book. Please—go on.”
“They used their magic to explore other realms—yours included. Eventually, they encountered… something.”
“Something?”
“The accounts vary. Some describe it as vast as a mountain. Others say it was Fae‑shaped. Many mention darkness, or tentacles.” She hesitated. “What all records agree on is that it was hostile, unimaginably powerful, and commanded an enormous army. It pursued the Fae explorers back through the portal and invaded Tenebrae, destroying cities and killing thousands.”
“And the ancient Fae couldn’t use their magic to fight back?”
“Not at first. They had been peaceful for generations. There was no need for warriors.” She drew a slow breath. “By the time they rallied, they were losing. But they discovered that the creature’s power was tied to its home realm. So they cast the greatest spell in our history—one that lit the sky and shook the ground. It severed the creature’s connection to its realm, leaving it vulnerable. Queen Nyraelyth led the final assault and struck it down, at the cost of her own life.”
“Why was she the last queen though, given that she won?”
“The centuries that followed are poorly recorded,” Ciri said. “What we do know is that more than ninety percent of the Fae population perished. The chain of succession was unclear, and several Fae tried to claim the crown. Moreover, the creature’s armies went mad without their master, ravaging the land. And the spell had an unintended consequence—portals began opening on their own.”
“Bringing humans,” Noah said, connecting the dots to their previous conversation. “And other creatures. Causing an ecological collapse.”
“This era is known as the Schism.” She continued, her voice subdued. “Fae civilization nearly vanished. Libraries were destroyed. Knowledge lost. Manuals, artifacts—gone.” She looked down. “So much was erased.”
“I’m sorry,” Noah said.
After a moment, she went on. “The surviving factions splintered. The Seelie moved south and founded the Summer Court. The Unseelie went north and became the Winter Court.”
“And you?” he asked. “Summer or Winter?”
“Neither. Even before the Schism, some Fae lived outside the courts. We were called Wild Fae. We stayed where we were, healed what we could, and lived tribally. Some of us remained nomadic. Others—like my tribe—settled among the ruins of the ancient Fae.”
Noah glanced around. “So this building—”
“Was built by them. As was the tower you woke up in.”
“That explains a lot,” he said slowly. “They really built to last.”
“Magic and maintenance,” she said with a faint smile.
“How do you know all of this?”
She gestured to the shelves. “These books are from the ancient Fae empire. I’ve read every one of them. Some more than once.”
“All of them?” Noah asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s… incredible.”
“I am the last scholar of my tribe. It is my duty to ensure this knowledge is retained for future generations,” she said quietly. “Unfortunately the profession has fallen out of favor. Only my parents’ position allows me to continue.”
Noah opened his mouth to respond, but distant bells began to ring—one, then another, then several at once. Shouts echoed from outside.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
Ciri straightened.
“Danger.”