The morning after the fae feast, legend hung as thick in the air as swamp mist. I couldn't walk five feet without tripping over a fairy trinket: feathered crowns, glowing stones, tiny cakes shaped like me (complete with my best dead-eyed stare). My dragon companion strutted with the confidence of a creature who knew she was half the reason the fairies were suddenly obsessed. She basked in their attention, accepting compliments and snacks with regal disdain.
I tried to keep my head down, but the fairies swarmed me in droves. They'd begun an oral tradition: every time I so much as scratched my nose, it became a tale of cunning survival, or "the day Knox stared down the death moss and survived." My companion, naturally, took credit for most of it.
Breakfast was a communal affair. One fairy, barely bigger than my thumb, perched on my shoulder and tried to feed me a berry. I accepted out of politeness. The berry was spicy enough to make my eyes water. My dragon snickered through our bond, radiating smug amusement.
The System pinged:
[Reputation: Fae Favored. Camp is now a minor sanctuary.
Warning: Sanctuary status attracts attention both welcome and not.]
Despite the laughter and affection, I couldn't shake the ache in my chest. I was something new now, not human, not beast, not fae, just Knox of Ash and Shadow, whatever that meant. The fairies didn't care. They adored me all the more for my strangeness. Sometimes, I even let myself believe I deserved it.
But the pain was always there, just beneath the surface. I caught myself staring into the fire, remembering Emma's laugh, the way she'd braided my hair on lazy Sundays. My dragon nudged me, sending warmth through our bond. She didn't need words to say: I'm here. You're not alone.
As the day wore on, the fairies insisted on showing me their favorite places: a glen of singing mushrooms, a pool that reflected starlight even at noon, a tree grown hollow and lined with silk "for when you finally decide to stay forever," they teased.
We laughed, but the world was changing. Subtle at first: the wind carried whispers, and the sky sometimes shimmered with colors I couldn't name. Once, while gathering firewood, I heard a soft, echoing, impossibly distant voice call my name.
I paused, heart pounding. My dragon looked at me, concern flickering. I shrugged it off, but the voice haunted me. That night, I dreamed of a woman cloaked in stars, her eyes full of longing and loneliness. She reached for me, but I woke before she could touch my hand.
The System chimed:
[External Influence Detected: Divine Origin.
Warning: Fate is converging.]
I lay awake, the ache in my chest deeper than ever. Even as the fairies celebrated my legend, I wondered: whose story was I living now?