CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Echoes of Light
The pilgrims arrived with the morning tide.
Orion watched them from the window of their cliff-side home—a procession of perhaps thirty people, winding up the coastal road toward the city. They carried banners he didn't recognize, symbols of flowers and light woven into the fabric. Some walked barefoot despite the rocky path. Others sang hymns in languages he'd never heard.
"They're here for you," he said.
Nera didn't look up from her breakfast. "I know."
"That's the fourth group this month."
"I know."
"They think you're a goddess."
"I'm not." She stabbed at her eggs with unnecessary force. "I'm just... me. I didn't ask for any of this."
Three months had passed since the Tidefall Festival. Three months since Nera had revealed herself to save the city from the Leviathan. Three months since word had begun to spread—whispers at first, then rumors, then certainty—that a fairy queen walked among mortals in Coastal City.
The pilgrims had started arriving in the second month.
First it was individuals—seekers and mystics who wanted to witness her power. Then small groups, bringing offerings and prayers. Now they came in organized processions, entire congregations who had decided that Neradok, Queen of All Fairies, was worthy of worship.
"We could move," Orion said. It wasn't the first time he'd suggested it.
"And go where?" Nera finally looked up, and he saw the exhaustion in her eyes. "Word travels. Wherever we go, they'll follow eventually."
"Then we go somewhere remote. Somewhere they can't find us."
"There is no 'can't find us.' I revealed myself to an entire city. Thousands of people saw what I am." She pushed her plate away. "This is the price of that choice. I knew it when I made it."
"You saved lives."
"I know. And I'd do it again." She stood, moving to the window beside him. Below, the pilgrims were entering the city, their songs echoing off the stone buildings. "But that doesn't make this easier."
Orion put his arm around her—she was human-sized this morning, tall enough to lean into his shoulder. They watched the procession together, these strangers who had traveled hundreds of miles to worship someone who just wanted to be left alone.
"We'll figure it out," he said.
"Will we?"
"We always do."
She didn't answer. But she held onto him a little tighter.
* * *
The guild had become a refuge.
Helena, bless her practical soul, had instituted a policy: no religious petitioners allowed on guild property. Anyone seeking "the fairy queen" for spiritual purposes was politely but firmly directed elsewhere. It meant Orion and Nera could still take quests, still work, still pretend their lives were normal for a few hours at a time.
"Sea serpent sighting near the northern shipping lanes," Della said, sliding a quest notice across the counter. "Merchant consortium wants it dealt with before it disrupts trade. Fifty silver, plus hazard bonus if it turns out to be a mature specimen."
"We'll take it." Orion reached for the notice, but Della held onto it.
"There's something else. A man came by yesterday asking about you. Not a pilgrim—he didn't have the look. More like..." She frowned. "I don't know. Something about him felt wrong. Cold."
"What did he want?"
"Information. Your address, your schedules, your habits. I didn't tell him anything, obviously." Della's expression was serious. "But he's not the first. There have been others, over the past few weeks. Asking questions. Watching."
Nera had gone very still on Orion's shoulder.
"What kind of others?" she asked.
"Different types. A woman in black who paid too well for basic information. A pair of elves who claimed to be historians but asked very specific questions about your power. And this man yesterday—" Della shook her head. "He looked at me like I was furniture. Like I wasn't worth noticing."
"Fairy realm," Nera murmured. "Or people working for them."
"You think so?"
"The way you described him—cold, dismissive of mortals. That's how some of my people see humans." Her wings buzzed with agitation. "They're gathering intelligence. Mapping our routines."
"For what?"
"Nothing good."
Orion took the quest notice from Della. "We'll be careful. And thank you—for the warning and for everything else."
"Just doing my job." But her expression softened. "You two have been good for this city. Whatever's coming, you've got people here who'll stand with you. Remember that."
* * *
The sea serpent hunt took them two days.
It was almost relaxing—a straightforward problem with a straightforward solution. Track the creature, corner it in shallow waters, drive it away from the shipping lanes. The serpent turned out to be young, more confused than aggressive, and Nera managed to communicate with it enough to redirect it toward deeper waters where it wouldn't bother anyone.
"You could have killed it," Orion observed as they sailed back to port.
"It was just lost. It didn't deserve to die for being in the wrong place." She was pixie-sized again, perched on the boat's railing with her face turned toward the sun. "Sometimes problems don't need violence. Sometimes they just need understanding."
"That's very philosophical."
"I'm a very philosophical person."
"You're a person who named a stuffed fish Gerald."
"Gerald is a very philosophical fish."
Despite everything, Orion smiled. These moments—the banter, the simple joy of being together—were what made the rest of it bearable. The pilgrims, the watchers, the constant pressure of being observed and judged and wanted. All of it faded when it was just the two of them.
"I've been thinking," he said.
"Dangerous activity."
"About what Della said. About the people asking questions."
Nera's expression sobered. "And?"
"If they're mapping our routines, they're planning something. Something that requires knowing where we'll be and when." He kept his voice level. "An ambush, most likely. Or an abduction."
"They wouldn't try to take me by force. The political implications—"
"Maybe not the fairy realm directly. But there are others who might. Humans who want to use your power. Enemies you made as queen. People who see opportunity in chaos."
Nera was quiet for a long moment.
"You're right," she finally said. "I've been trying to ignore it, hoping it would go away. But it won't." She looked at him, her ancient eyes tired. "What do you think we should do?"
"I think we need to stop being predictable. Change our patterns. Maybe even..."
"Leave."
"Maybe."
"I don't want to run. I'm tired of running."
"I know. But sometimes running is surviving. And I'd rather have you alive and running than dead and standing your ground."
She didn't argue. They both knew he was right.
The boat sailed on, carrying them back toward a city that no longer felt like home.
* * *
The assassination attempt came three nights later.
Orion woke to the sound of breaking glass—their bedroom window, shattering inward. He rolled out of bed on instinct, reaching for his sword, but shadows were already moving in the darkness. Fast. Silent. Professional.
"Nera!"
A blade whistled past his head. He parried the second strike, felt the impact jar up his arm, and realized his opponents weren't human. The way they moved, the cold precision of their attacks—these were fairy warriors. The real thing, not the watchers who'd been gathering intelligence.
Light exploded through the room.
Nera, human-sized and blazing with power, stood at the center of the chaos. Her radiance illuminated three attackers—tall, elegant figures in dark armor, their faces hidden behind featureless masks. They recoiled from the light but didn't retreat.
"Stand down," Nera commanded. Her voice carried the weight of absolute authority. "By the laws of the Eternal Court, I order you to stand down."
The lead attacker laughed—a cold, empty sound. "The Court no longer recognizes your authority, deserter. You abandoned your throne. You abandoned your people. You have no power here."
"Then I'll make power."
The battle was brief and brutal.
Nera fought with a ferocity Orion had never seen from her—not the measured control of the Leviathan battle, but raw fury, ancient magic unleashed without restraint. The attackers were skilled, but they weren't prepared for the full wrath of a fairy queen defending her home.
Orion held his own, his strange power surging to meet the threat. His blade found gaps in fairy armor. His movements anticipated attacks before they came. Together, they drove the assassins back, back, back—
Until only the leader remained, pinned against the wall by bands of solidified light.
"Who sent you?" Nera demanded.
"Does it matter? You can't hide forever. The realm wants its queen back." The assassin's masked face turned toward Orion. "And they're not happy about your choice of consort. A mortal. How far you've fallen."
"My choice is not the realm's concern."
"Everything about you is the realm's concern. You are bound to the Eternal Throne. You cannot simply—"
Nera's hand moved, and the assassin went silent—not dead, but frozen, caught in stasis. "I've heard enough."
The room was destroyed. Shattered glass, broken furniture, scorch marks on the walls. Their home—the place they'd been so happy—reduced to a battlefield.
"Orion." Nera's voice was small now, the fury drained out of her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Don't." He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. "This isn't your fault."
"It is. All of it. If I hadn't revealed myself—"
"You saved the city. You saved thousands of lives." He held her tighter. "This was coming eventually. We both knew that."
"What do we do now?"
He looked around at the wreckage of their life—the home they'd built, the peace they'd found, all of it shattered in a single night.
"We leave," he said. "Tonight. Before they can send more."
"And go where?"
"North. As far north as we can get. Somewhere so remote that even the fairy realm won't bother following."
"There is no such place."
"Then we find one. Or we make one." He cupped her face in his hands, making her look at him. "I'm not losing you. Not to assassins, not to the realm, not to anything. We run, we hide, we fight if we have to. But we do it together. Always together."
She stared at him—this stubborn, impossible human who had somehow become her entire world.
"Together," she agreed. "Always."
They began to pack.
* * *
The goodbye with Vex and Denna was harder than Orion expected.
They met at dawn, in a quiet corner of the harbor where the fishing boats were just setting out. Vex looked like he hadn't slept; Denna's expression was unreadable but her eyes were red.
"You're really leaving," Vex said. It wasn't a question.
"We have to." Orion had explained the attack, the assassins, the danger. "If we stay, more will come. And next time they might not care about collateral damage."
"Then we'll come with you. Fight alongside you."
"No."
"Orion—"
"No." His voice was firm. "These are fairy warriors, Vex. Ancient, powerful, relentless. You'd be killed. Both of you."
"We've fought beside you before—"
"Against monsters. Against things that could be hurt with steel and determination." Orion met his friend's eyes. "This is different. This is a war we have to fight on our own."
Denna spoke for the first time. "Where will you go?"
"North. Beyond the Frostmarch. There's a city called Thornhaven—remote, harsh, the kind of place people go to disappear."
"The frozen north," Vex said quietly. "That's... that's far."
"That's the point."
Nera, who had been silent on Orion's shoulder, flew down to hover in front of Vex. "Thank you," she said. "For everything. For being his friend when he needed one. For accepting me even when you knew something was wrong."
"I still don't fully understand what you are," Vex admitted.
"I'm someone who loves her husband very much. And someone who's grateful for the people who've made his life better." She darted forward and kissed his cheek—a tiny, ridiculous gesture that somehow meant everything. "Take care of each other. And take care of this city. It deserves people like you."
Vex blinked rapidly, trying very hard not to show emotion. "We will. And you—both of you—stay alive. That's an order."
"Since when do you give orders?" Orion asked.
"Since right now. I'm promoting myself. General Vex. It has a nice ring to it."
"You're not a general."
"I'm a general of friendship. The highest rank."
Despite everything, Orion laughed. He pulled Vex into a rough embrace—the kind men gave each other when words weren't enough.
"Take care," he said.
"You too." Vex's voice was thick. "You stubborn, impossible bastard."
Denna stepped forward and surprised everyone by hugging Orion as well. "We'll keep an eye on things here," she said quietly. "And if you ever need us—if you ever need anything—send word. We'll come."
"I know."
"I mean it. Distance doesn't matter. We'll find a way."
"I know," he repeated. "Thank you."
They parted as the sun rose over the harbor, painting the world in shades of gold and pink. Orion looked back once—saw Vex and Denna standing together, watching them go—and then turned his face north.
Toward the unknown.
Toward whatever came next.
* * *
The letter to Pip was the hardest thing Orion had ever written.
He composed it on the road, during their first night's camp, while Nera slept beside the fire. The words came slowly, each one feeling inadequate.
Dear Pip,
By the time you read this, we'll be gone from Coastal City. Something happened—something I can't fully explain in a letter—and we had to leave. Not because we wanted to, but because staying would have put too many people in danger.
I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye in person. I'm sorry I won't be there to see you reach Silver rank, though I know you will. You've grown so much since we first met—that nervous kid with a fish-gutting knife has become someone strong, someone capable, someone I'm proud to have known.
We're heading north. Far north. I don't know when we'll be able to write again, or if letters will even reach us where we're going. But please know that you've never left my thoughts. You were the first person who looked at me like I was worth looking up to. That meant more than I ever told you.
Keep training. Keep growing. Keep being the person who gave hope to a cynical old adventurer who'd forgotten what hope felt like.
And someday, when this is all over—when Nera and I have found our peace—we'll find you again. That's not a hope. That's a promise. And you know what my promises mean.
Until then,
Orion
P.S. - Nera says she loves you and you'd better be eating properly or she'll come back just to yell at you. I think she means it.
He sealed the letter and left it with a merchant caravan heading south. They promised to deliver it to the Silverbrook guild.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
But it was all he could give.
* * *
They traveled by night when they could, avoiding major roads and populated areas. The northern road was long and lonely, winding through forests and fields that grew progressively wilder as civilization fell away behind them.
"I've been thinking," Nera said on the third night. She was human-sized, walking beside him under a canopy of stars.
"About what?"
"About what the assassin said. That I'm bound to the Eternal Throne. That I can't simply leave."
"Is it true?"
"Partially." She was choosing her words carefully. "When I became queen, I didn't just take a title. I merged with something—the throne itself, the accumulated power of every ruler before me. It's part of me now. I can suppress it, hide it, but I can't remove it."
"Is that why they want you back? The power?"
"Partly. But also... the realm needs a ruler. Without one, the old pacts weaken. Alliances fray. Other powers begin to circle." She sighed. "I knew this when I left. I just hoped they'd find another way."
"Can they? Find another ruler, I mean?"
"Not while I live. The throne won't accept another. It's bound to me until death or..." She trailed off.
"Or what?"
"The Rite of Ending. A formal severing of the bond. It's painful, dangerous, and requires the willing participation of the throne-holder." She laughed bitterly. "Which means they'd have to bring me back to perform it. And if they're bringing me back anyway, why would they let me go?"
"So there's no way out."
"There's always a way out. I just haven't found it yet."
Orion reached for her hand. She took it, her fingers intertwining with his.
"We'll find it together," he said.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
They walked on through the darkness, two figures against the vast and uncaring night. Behind them, Coastal City had disappeared beyond the horizon. Ahead, the north waited—cold and remote and full of unknowns.
But they faced it together.
And for now, that was enough.
* * *
Commander Seraphel arrived at Coastal City four days after they left.
She had expected many things. A hunt through crowded streets. A confrontation at some modest home. Perhaps even a battle, if her queen refused to listen to reason.
She had not expected to find her queen already gone.
The house on the cliff was empty, its windows boarded, its garden already beginning to wilt. Neighbors spoke of a hasty departure in the night. Guild officials were polite but unhelpful. The trail, three years in the making, had gone cold.
But Seraphel was patient. She had hunted her queen this far; she would hunt her further still.
What troubled her was not the chase. It was what she learned while asking questions.
"She saved the whole city," a fisherman told her. "Turned into something beautiful and terrible and drove back a monster from the deep. My daughter would have died if not for her."
"The fairy queen?" A merchant laughed. "She bought flowers from my stall every week. Always had a kind word. Never acted like she was better than us, even though she could have turned us all to ash with a thought."
"Her husband's the one who cleared the Saltmaw Caves," a guild attendant said. "Quiet fellow, kept to himself. But when the monster came, he stood beside her. Fought alongside her. They say he nearly died channeling power into the binding that sealed it away."
Story after story. Testimony after testimony. A picture forming of a queen who had not abandoned her duties, but chosen different ones. Who had not rejected her people, but found new people to protect.
Seraphel stood on the cliffs above the harbor, watching the waves crash against the rocks below. Somewhere out there, the Leviathan slept—bound by magic and mortal will, sealed away by a queen who had no obligation to this city but had saved it anyway.
She thought about duty. About loyalty. About what it meant to serve.
She had served the fairy crown for millennia. She had never questioned, never doubted, never wavered. Her queen had given an order—stay, protect, serve—and she had obeyed.
But her queen had not ordered her to pursue. Her queen had simply... left. Chosen a different life. Found happiness in places Seraphel had never thought to look.
Was it betrayal? Or was it freedom?
Seraphel didn't know anymore. And that uncertainty—that crack in the foundation of everything she believed—was perhaps the most unsettling thing of all.
She turned north, following the trail of a queen who no longer wished to be found.
But for the first time in her immortal existence, she wasn't sure what she would do when she caught up.
— End of Chapter Fifteen —