Twilight did not fall over the fae realm. It pressed into it, like something heavy had settled in the sky and refused to move. The forest below reflected it. Trees stood tall but hollow, their once living bark now dull, their branches stretched like reaching hands that no longer had the strength to grasp anything. The leaves once vibrant, glowing with quiet magic now sat matte black, slick with rain that gathered at their edges before falling in slow, steady drops.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound echoed too loudly. Like the forest had lost everything else worth hearing. Azaliyah walked through it without urgency. Not because she wasn't aware of what was happening but because she had grown used to it. Her boots pressed into damp soil that didn't quite feel alive anymore. The air clung to her skin, thick and wrong, like breathing something that had already been exhaled too many times. She didn't look around much. There was nothing new to see. Everything looked like it was waiting to die. Except for one thing. The portal.
It stood where it always had, embedded between two massive trees that had long since stopped growing. Its surface shimmered faintly, but even that glow had weakened like it, too, was struggling to stay open. Still it worked. She stopped in front of it, arms folding loosely across her chest as she stared into its shifting surface. Earth. Color. Movement. Life. People walked through crowded streets, laughing, talking, existing without thinking about whether the ground beneath them would split open.
The sky there wasn't heavy. It didn't feel like it was watching you. Her jaw tightened slightly. Must be nice. She tilted her head, watching a girl not much older than her walking down a street, headphones in, completely unaware of how quiet her world could become."No collapsing realms," Azaliyah muttered under her breath. "No weird magic trying to kill you."
A beat. "Yeah… sounds terrible."Her eyes lingered. Too long. What if I just….Her weight shifted slightly forward. Just enough. Just enough to matter. No one would even stop me. That thought sat differently. Heavier than everything else. Would they even notice? The question didn't get answered. Because something screamed. The sound tore through the forest sharp, raw, not clean like an animal, not controlled like magic something in pain.
Something is trying to hold on. She froze. The portal flickered behind her. Still open. Still waiting. Not my problem. Another cry. Louder this time. Closer. Her eyes shut briefly. "Of course," she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. "The one time I consider leaving" The sound cut her off again. Worse. Breaking. She sucked her teeth. Annoyed. Frustrated. She already knew what she was going to do. "Yeah… okay. Fine."And then she ran. The forest didn't welcome her speed. Branches snapped under her movement. The ground shifted unevenly beneath her feet, like it couldn't decide whether to hold her or give out completely.
The deeper she went the worse it felt. Like something had already passed through here.
Her chest tightened. Not fear. Instinct. Something was wrong. Then she broke through the trees. And stopped. Whatever she expected it wasn't that. He lay twisted against the ground like something that had been thrown there. Not placed. Not resting. Discarded. At first glance he didn't make sense. Her eyes moved slowly over him, trying to piece it together. His upper body was human. Male. Strong in build, but strained now, muscles tight beneath skin that was broken open in places where something else existed beneath it.
Scales. Not fully formed. Not fully hidden. They pushed through his skin like something unfinished, catching what little light existed and reflecting it in fractured glints. His lower half was something else entirely. A Kirin. Not whole. Not right. His legs were powerful but failing, silvered fur darkened with blood, cloven hooves digging weakly into the ground like he was trying to anchor himself to something that wouldn't hold. His mane—once probably something worth looking at—was tangled, damp, streaked with dirt and rain.
He looked Ancient. And broken. At the same time. Her stomach twisted slightly.
"…what the hell are you?" His eyes opened. Sharp. Alert despite everything. And locked onto hers. There was intelligence there. Too much of it.
"…you gonna help," he rasped, voice rough, edged with something that sounded dangerously close to sarcasm, "or just stand there judging?"
She blinked. Once. Then tilted her head slightly. "Not with that attitude."A pause. Then despite the blood, the damage, the fact that he looked like he shouldn't even be conscious he almost smiled. "…figures."
She stepped closer, crouching beside him slowly. Not soft. Not gentle. Careful. Her hands hovered. Not touching. Not yet. Because she didn't trust herself. That was the problem. Light flickered anyway. Gold. Unsteady. Uninvited. "I swear," she muttered under her breath, more to herself than him, "if I didn't know what I was doing… you'd already be dead."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" he said dryly. She didn't answer. She pressed her hand down. And the magic reacted.
She held his gaze for a second longer than necessary. Not out of kindness. Assessment. "You always talk like that," she said flatly, "or is this just your charming near death personality?"
His lips twitched slightly. "Depends. You always hesitate this much before helping, or is this a special occasion?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Careful," she said, voice dropping just enough to carry weight, "I could still leave you here."
"Mm," he breathed, shifting slightly despite the obvious pain, "you won't."
That irritated her more than it should have. "Confident for someone bleeding out."
"Observant for someone stalling."
She exhaled sharply through her nose. "Alright," she muttered, more to herself now, "say less."
This time—she didn't hesitate. Her hand pressed fully against his side. And the magic surged. Gold light spilled from her palm not soft, not controlled, but sharp, flickering like it didn't fully belong to her. It pushed into him instead of flowing. Forced. Unrefined. He tensed instantly. "Yeah," he hissed, jaw tightening, "you definitely don't know what you're doing."
"Then stop reacting like that," she snapped, "and maybe it won't fight back."
"It's not fighting back," he said through clenched teeth, "it's reacting to you." She paused. Just for a second. The light faltered. Then flared harder. Unstable. "…don't," she warned under her breath, more to her magic than to him. Because it was starting to do that thing again. That thing where it didn't listen. The glow shifted gold twisting into something slightly brighter, slightly hotter, like it was trying to become something else. His hand shot up suddenly grabbing her wrist. Not hard. But firm enough.
"Hey," he said, quieter now, more focused,
"Either you control it… or you stop."