April 5, 2025.
Location: Doras Dagda, Scottish Highlands.
The gates of Doras Dagda stood solid in the fading light, their stones glowing with quiet magic. Ancient runes pulsed along the frame, sensing the group's approach. Robert found it hard to believe they'd been gone over four days, Earth time. Time was weird in the sanctums. Some felt like five minutes. This one? One long, stretched-out day that somehow ate a whole week. It made no sense. Could Albion's connection be warping time? Were different sanctums aging at different rates? The thought nagged at Robert during the walk back, his mind wrestling with the puzzle.
He raised his eyes to the familiar sight of home. Beyond the gates, the settlement buzzed with Celtic heritage and glowing enchantments. The air crackled with anticipation. From a distance, streaks of colored light occasionally shot into the sky, thin and bright like fireworks. Moira explained these were ley lines venting excess energy to keep their flow stable. Whatever that meant.
As they neared, kobold watchmen on the walls spotted them and shouted a signal. The calls spread from guard to guard, growing into cheers.
By the time they reached the entrance, the gates swung open, and a crowd of familiar faces rushed out, their smiles wide with welcome.
Lillia ran forward first, her green eyes bright with relief. Her dark curls bounced as she moved, her face glowing with silent joy. She threw herself into Robert's arms. She didn't say a word, but she didn't need to. He got it. He held her tight, warmth flooding through him.
Her weight against him felt like coming home after a storm. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, the small gesture stealing his breath. Her soft form pressed close, and Robert realized he'd missed her more than anything.
Without thinking, he spun her in a light arc, surprised at how easily she moved in his arms. Her silent laughter sparkled in her eyes, stirring a deep ache in his chest.
As Lillia stepped back, her fingers lingered on his for a moment, a quiet promise. Rauri, her brother, broke the moment, his energy like a burst of sunlight.
"There you are!" Rauri called, grabbing Hamish's arm in a firm greeting. "You've been gone almost a week. We were about to send a search party."
He turned to Chaucer. "And you, Rat Assassin. I was sure you'd come back in one piece."
Chaucer placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. "One piece? I'm the star here! Let it be known the Fairy Queen herself fell by my hand."
The crowd laughed, as if he'd landed the perfect joke. Chaucer hurried to the kobold patrols, who greeted him with cheers and playful shoves. The mouse-like kobolds, shorter than Chaucer and twice as enthusiastic, treated him like a hero for standing with Doras Dagda's best. Word got around that he'd landed the killing blow against a fearsome foe, and they hoisted him onto their shoulders, their furry feet bouncing as they tossed him up and down. The humans chuckled at the furry guardians' antics.
As the crowd moved into the city, Chaucer called out, "Wait, wait! This is super fun! But I need to tell the whole story!" The kobolds lowered him respectfully, patting his back with many paws.
Chaucer sprang onto a crate and launched into a vivid tale of their exploits, his voice carrying with clever flair. He exaggerated details, but the delighted listeners didn't mind. It was mostly accurate.
Snow wove through the crowd, her staff tapping the stones. She found Sorcha near the hearth, where the fire flickered like it was leaning in to listen. Snow launched right in, barely stopping for breath, as she spoke to her friend, whom she'd grown close to through training and visits.
"Sorcha, you won't believe what we discovered! Her sanctum, her treasure, everything. It was incredible. And terrifying. I learned so much!" She gripped her staff, faint frost lingering at her fingertips.
Sorcha nodded, calm and attentive, her wise eyes reflecting the firelight. She offered small smiles, encouraging Snow to share every detail, as if seeing deeper truths behind her story.
The clan gathered around, settling in. Moira's voice filled their minds, kind yet commanding, like a steady hand on their shoulders.
"You have served Albion well, my chosen," she said, her tone resonating in their thoughts. "The west was unknown to us, and now its secrets are revealed. For your bravery, you are granted fresh wisdom and a token of Albion's power."
A warm glow wrapped around them, soft as morning light through curtains. Their minds felt sharper, as if new knowledge had woven into their thoughts.
Gifts appeared in their hands, each humming with potential. Robert turned over a fine silvery sash with runic patterns stitched along its length, gleaming in the moonlight. As he examined it, he realized it was the Tiger Prince's Royal Sash, granting sudden bursts of speed during melee attacks with a twenty percent chance. One in five strikes would land with blinding speed.
"A fascinating treasure," Robert murmured, slipping it on. "My focus is magic, but sometimes bashing a creature's head is just more effective."
Hamish flexed his fingers in new Radiant Gauntlets, runes glowing across the backs, casting steady light that pushed back shadows.
"These babies are stunnin'," he said, his voice soft with respect. "They'll be handy against anything tainted with Dark."
He clenched his fists, and a pulse of light rippled out, startling nearby kobolds into a scurry.
Snow's new Orb of Perpetual Frost hovered near her chest, chilling the air. "It fits right in with what I've been practicing," she said, storing it in a pouch at her belt. Tiny flakes swirled around her wrist, a playful hint of her frost magic.
Chaucer draped a Cloak of Shadows over his shoulders, the fabric shifting like living shade. "Well, if I wasn't sneaky enough before, I am now," he joked, winking at the crowd. He pulled it tight, disappeared with a smirk, then popped back up a few feet away with a bow, amusing those nearby.
Langston stood apart, staring at the strange bracelet from the Fairy Queen. Its metal surface caught the firelight, runes pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. The crowd stayed polite but distant, their trust in him thin. Robert felt the same caution.
Langston raised his hand, and the veins on his wrist glowed blue near dense magic. The bracelet seemed to react to something in his blood. Robert recalled a battle where it spun threads that siphoned magical energy into electric blasts, much like Langston's taser. Could it learn from his tech and mimic it?
Now, Langston studied it with fascination and fear, his jaw set. Robert approached him. "What do you think it does?" he asked, keeping his tone even.
Langston's eyes stayed on the device. "It's beyond what I expected. Advanced. And dangerous."
Robert noticed a faint glow under his skin. "Let Sorcha take a look, yeah? Just in case," he said.
"No," Langston snapped, cradling it protectively. "I'll handle it myself."
His words were sharp, but his grip betrayed alarm as much as defiance. The bracelet sparked and clicked, as if responding to a threat.
Hamish's voice broke the tension. "Oy, Langston! Your new partner's acting up again. Maybe sweet-talk her a bit?" His rough humor carried concern.
Langston glared back, muttering something under his breath.
He strode away, leaving the group to the clan's welcome and the feast that followed. Robert watched him, wary of his unpredictability. Langston could turn against them or leave to chase his own path. Robert hoped he'd choose the latter.
The feast came alive with the clan's best: fresh bread, roasted meats, and spiced stews. Whether it was magic or just damn good cooking, it hit the spot.
Chaucer declared himself the best dancer, leading spins and dips that even the kobolds tried to mimic, stumbling comically. Rauri and Hamish bantered, vying for attention from a group of clan women, who happily indulged the warriors.
Robert found Lillia again and slipped his arms around her from behind. She leaned into his chest, her hands sliding over his arms, welcoming him fully. He brushed his lips against her ear, and she shivered. She turned, grabbed his hands, and led him away.
They found a quiet spot, swaying gently to distant music. Her quiet laugh rose and fell with the music drifting in from the tents.
Robert pulled her close, his blood racing. He kissed her, a light brush of lips. "I have so missed you, Lillia."
She pulled back, her cheeks coloring, then smiled brightly, lighting up the grove. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, passion flaring like a spark in dry leaves.
Her warmth surged through him, stronger than any fire. Robert let himself sink into the moment, his heart finding harmony with hers.
Moira's gentle whistle sounded in their minds, breaking the spell. Lillia huffed, her face flushing. She held Robert's face in her palms, her magic whispering, "She said we should go back. We can 'play' later."
Robert sighed, shrugged, and they returned to the party, hand in hand. Lillia's spirit voice always had this musical lift to it—clear, warm, and impossible to ignore.
She brought him a cup of sweet mead, its honeyed taste matching her grin. Nearby, Snow fended off polite suitors, each bolder than the last. She responded with kind gestures, sending them away disappointed but respectful, shaking her head amusedly at their boasts.
Later, Robert noticed Langston at the celebration's edge, an outsider in his own mind. He watched the singing and dancing with a distant stare, as if wanting to join but unsure how. His eyes flicked to the bracelet, confusion and longing in his expression.
Langston had always leaned on science and logic. Now he faced a world that ignored those rules. Robert recalled telling him, "Magic only stops where imagination does." The storm in Langston's gaze suggested those words had stuck.
Langston brushed a hand over the bracelet, its runes glowing faintly. Doubts seemed to weigh on him.
Quietly, he muttered something about imagination outstripping knowledge, sounding lost.
As the feast ended, clan members drifted to their tents, laughter fading with the smoke. The air settled, still warm with stories and the promise of tomorrow.
Lillia and Robert shared a lingering look before she joined her family, leaving his hand cold.
Despite the late hour, Robert felt drawn to the fairy sanctum core. He pulled the Queen's relic from his pocket dimension, its power still clinging to the surface.
STEVE's voice boomed in his ear, rattling off the week's reports and critiquing Ewan MacEwan's leadership. "Inefficient," STEVE droned. "Too focused on worker morale."
Robert hushed him, promising a review in the morning. His focus was on the core's lingering menace.
Inside DAVE's sanctum, the cheerful crystal greeted him with eager light, quieter than the music outside—a welcome relief.
"Ah, My Lord! Finder of secrets, master of possibilities! How may I serve?" So much for peace and quiet.
"Ease up on the compliments," Robert said, holding out the fairy sanctum core. Its surface rippled with dark energy, the Queen's power still active within.
DAVE's light dimmed instantly. "This is worse than anything we've absorbed before," he said, his voice serious. "That hatred still lives inside it."
Robert placed a hand on DAVE's crystal surface. "We'll go slow. If it's too risky, we stop. But we need to see if there's anything useful in there. I trust you."
DAVE brightened slightly, though worry tinged his glow. "I'll do what I can, My Lord," he said, filaments of light reaching out.
The strands touched the core's surface, pulling its power in slowly. The air buzzed with unseen energy as DAVE's light met the darkness.
Each strand trembled on contact. Robert channeled steady flows of light and earth magic, forming a barrier between DAVE and the core's corruption. DAVE drew on Robert's aid, the effort straining them both. His vision blurred at the edges.
Despite their caution, the core pulsed stronger. "My Lord," DAVE's voice wavered. "I'm detecting unusual patterns beneath the surface. This corruption feels purposeful."
Concern gnawed at Robert. The core held something they barely understood, tied to the Unseelie Fae Queen's essence. Even defeated, she lingered in this relic.
Risking DAVE was a gamble, but Robert held firm, channeling energy, determined to neutralize the Queen's final curse.
The core pulsed again, more forcefully. DAVE's light flickered briefly.
"There's something else inside," DAVE whispered. "Something angry."