Fenn floated. Amid speckled lavender clouds, he drifted, his feet just barely skimming over silver waters.

A part of him itched to fly. A more rational part wondered why he was floating in the first place, and pondered the rationale that he shouldn’t be able to fly if he hadn’t wings to fly with. That he was pondering rationality in the first place (in a dream of all places) was due to her presence.

By “her”, he meant Regent Banrion of the Icepeak Court. She could be no other.

The elder fae lounged in the air, embracing the skewed physics of Fenn’s dream with the ease of which one might breathe air. She was a strange sight, to be sure. Two snakish heads rose from her shoulders, pierced by carmine eyes and framed by a mane of black feathers. Scaly blue hands twiddled their thumbs in slow deliberation. Her robes dripped, wine-red, into the waters below. There were no ripples from the fabric’s touch. She was too calm.

“I thank you for your help in ridding me of Morrighna’s blight,” his elder told him, offhandedly rolling an empty vial around in the palm of her hand. “In the weeks thus far, none have challenged my ascension. None suspect — or else, say that they suspect — our foul play. Now then! I have my Court under control for once and all. There is much that I have resolved to teach you. You need learn more of your heritage, of the realm of dreams, of how to conduct yourself and earn other’s respect… other’s fear too, if needed.” A glance down at their reflections followed. A flicker of consideration to his; perhaps, a thought was spared to his distinct inability to strike awe or fright into any onlooker. It wasn’t a new realization to Fenn, but before meeting Banri (and other jarring events) he’d never thought that needed remedy. The Regent made a thoughtful pair of noises in the back of her throats. “Please, visit again soon so I can make good on those promises. Agreed?”

<Agreed,> he replied. He spoke cheerfully, hiding the weight im his chest with a bob of his shoulders. A part of him quivered ever so slightly at the staring vial. The palpitations were ignored.

Banri beamed. “Then make haste to Sidhe. I await your return.”

Fenn followed her gaze downward, into the lake below.

There were numerous ways in and out of the fae’s land. Numerous portals that shifted open and closed, by season or other natural circumstance. In the reflecting waters shone a circle of dewy mushroom and dark grass, vivid against a backdrop of a shattered house, comfortably encompassing a stone gateway. The boy nodded. He knew where to go.