TO Rewrite: B4 — 6. The UK Crisis
Added 2025-06-17 22:55:27 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Fiona White (Our Super Stressed Fairy Queen!)
2. Merlin (Our UK MI6 Intelligence Senior Officer!)
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The dream began as the previous one had the night before, just after the Second Oscillation—with the mist.
Fiona found herself floating through a silvery fog that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, her seven-centimeter frame drifting on currents that defied physics. The crystalline stag materialized before her, its antlers catching light from sources that didn’t exist, each tine sharp enough to cut reality itself.
“Come, High Queen,” the stag’s voice resonated through her soul rather than her ears, harmonic, masculine, and refined. “There are those who have waited eons to meet their deliverer… At last, the way is open.”
Without warning, they were ascending—not flying, but rising through layers of existence that made her fairy dust sparkle in patterns she’d never seen before. The mist parted like curtains, revealing something that stole her breath entirely.
A city.
Hidden impossibly high within the crown of the World Tree. No, maybe not in this world at all, but a sort of skewed dimensional shift, nestled among branches the size of skyscrapers, a civilization thrived in defiance of everything she thought she knew about the world.
Buildings grew from living wood, their walls pulsing with veins of golden sap that served as both light and life. Bridges of woven vines connected towering platforms where creatures, both terrifying and beautiful, moved with purpose.
My size, Fiona realized with wonder, considering the scope of the World Tree itself; this second visit, she was peeling back more of the layers. They’re all my size…but they’re magically shrunk. It’s like this realm itself changes sizes to fit it.
Fairy courts danced through the air on wings of every conceivable color, their laughter like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. Pixies no larger than her thumb tended gardens of flowers that bloomed in impossible hues; here, she was the giant. Sprites made of starlight flickered between the leaves, leaving trails of silver fire in their wake.
But it wasn't just the fair folk. Her heart clenched as she saw other tiny beings—mouse knights in acorn-cap armor, salamander mages whose scales glowed with inner fire, butterfly messengers carrying scrolls between the platforms.
“Observe,” the stag whispered, “the fruit of your labor. All of them were refugees. Survivors from collapsed realms, dying universes, worlds that had simply…ended, due to the disaster you foresaw.”
Me? Fiona thought in total denial, hugging herself as they flew over the masses. No, I thought about this, and you’re probably talking about my Seed. I can’t help you… I need to help my little sister. She needs my help right now.
“Your Majesty!”
The cry came from everywhere at once as countless tiny voices lifted in unison. They’d noticed her now, and the effect was overwhelming. Creatures of every description turned their sight skyward toward her, their faces filled with hope and desperate need.
The stag’s heavy eyes lowered, now melancholy. “Your will is all that sustains us, High Queen. I sense your reluctance and confusion, how overwhelmed you are, but know that we all stand behind you and believe in your decision… Look, your rulers.”
A delegation approached—led by what appeared to be a fox no bigger than her hand, its fur shifting through colors that had no names. “High Queen Titania, we have waited so long for your return. Our worlds…our homes…they are gone, absorbed by the expanding plague of Eldritch consumption. Your Tree called to us, offered sanctuary, but we need…we need a high ruler. Someone to speak for us all, to protect us.”
I’m…not who you think I am!
“Please,” whispered a crystalline butterfly, its wings refracting her own fairy dust into rainbow patterns. “The Tree suffers, and we suffer with her. The gnawing from below grows stronger, and we fear… We fear we may lose this sanctuary too as the Crimson Tide expands.”
But I’m just a twenty-year-old online idol… I’m not your high queen, she cried, chest rupturing inside from the pleading looks they gave her. I don’t know how to help you all!
More voices joined in, a chorus of tiny pleas that made her head spin:
“My children starve without the dream-fruit from the Ethereal Groves—”
“The shadow-blight spreads through the lower branches—”
“The phoenix hatchlings cry for their lost sun—”
“High Queen Titania, only you can rally the nature spirits to heal what was broken—”
“Stop!” Fiona cried out, her voice cracking under the weight of their expectations. “I don't know how to be a queen! I can barely take care of myself—protect my little sister, let alone…all of this! I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” she wept, tremors cascading down her frame as she hugged herself.
The crystalline stag stepped forward, its presence somehow calming the desperate crowd. “They do not need you to have all the answers, High Queen. They need you to choose to care. To choose to try…and all will come in time. The awakening will begin whether you will it or not, which is why others court your support—but how you use that power, that is still yours to decide.”
Fiona looked around at the sea of tiny faces—all watching her, all hoping she could somehow save them. The weight against her chest was crushing, like a tsunami pulling her into its riptide.
Nora was trapped as a slime, blaming her for everything. The Scarlet Hand was waiting for her cooperation to cure her. The entire world had been flipped on its head a second time. Erika was back in DC, handling Omen’s politics amid her emotional breakup, all alone. Maria was apparently killing herself trying to keep up with all the healing required in Montana, as Rachel, once again, pushed herself beyond her limits and was unconscious.
And now this recurring dream—no, nightmare—of an entire civilization of refugees looking to her as their salvation.
The stag’s face was filled with compassion as he whispered, “Awaken, High Queen… We endure in long suffering for your ascension.”
The city began to fade, the tiny voices calling out in unison: “We believe in you, our High Queen. We believe…”
Gut squirming, Fiona lurched out of the tissue box she’d been using as a bed, grasping her heaving chest. Rasping and coughing, sugar clumps came up, setting the paper as she tried to collect herself—it felt like someone had kneed her in the belly.
“Sugar muffins…” she gagged. “What is this… Stress?”
The fits soon passed, but the pain remained, like an Indian burn, only around her bones that radiated through her tiny chest and down to the tips of her gossamer wings as they appeared, carrying her up. Her fairy dust was scattered in chaotic spirals of muted greens and sickly yellows around her frame. This pain was from the World Tree.
But underneath the physical aching, another pain throbbed—the memory of countless voices calling her High Queen, begging for salvation she didn’t know how to give.
Is this the World Tree’s method of getting me to care more? she internally groaned, rubbing her hot forehead and wiping away sugary tears. Blinking away the sleep, she looked out of the window she’d slept beside, seeing the much expanded world wonder, now grown more than three times its original size as crimson lightning clouds swirled around its higher branches. The dream, I don’t know, but the tree… Even other faekin are now feeling her cries for help.
A knock at the door made her wings flutter nervously. “Fi? You okay? Piper said you were having another episode. Can I come in?” Anthony’s voice carried the strain of someone who’d been up all night dealing with local and global crises.
“One minute!” she called.
Fiona quickly smoothed down her hair and tried to will her chaotic fairy dust back to its normal golden shimmer. She used one of the tissues to dab at her cheeks and clean her mouth. Slipping on her small doll clothes that Maria and she had gotten before her UK trip, she flew a tad higher.
“Come in!”
When he opened the door, she saw Piper hovering in the background, looking ominously pretty, as usual; she didn’t know how to feel about the vampire girl, because her interest was to have Anthony all to herself after he died, which…wasn’t weird at all. The Legend certainly had his hands full with the most complicated love life Fiona could imagine.
Anthony’s expression was tight with concern. “How are you feeling? And before you say ‘fine,’ it’s confirmed, every other faekin in the city has been reporting severe discomfort since the Second Oscillation, yesterday.”
Fiona managed a weak smile as she fluttered up to perch on his offered finger, smoothing her long dress under. “I suppose I don’t need to look strong… It feels like someone’s playing my ribs like a harp, honestly. I…had that weird dream again, but this time it was a lot sharper.”
The man’s lime-green eyes drifted to the floor, a low hum in his throat transferring to his finger. “I understand you don’t want to tell Merlin about the dream, but he may have some insight.”
Fiona swiftly shook her head, illuminated green locks swaying as she channeled her Wind Magic to maintain her wings. “Maybe when I get a better grasp of it. I’m still working through a lot of it, and this time they called me…”
She trailed off, lips pulling in as parts of the nightmare returned. Did they really mean I’m Titania, the fairy queen in William Shakespeare’s play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream? It was my favorite play in school, and I did play the part, looking back, but that was just a one-off since everyone said I fit the part… My drama career didn’t last long once I really got into singing.
Hand instinctively rising to press against her chest, she felt the weight compressing it increase. Could I actually be the Myth of Titania? Crowley and Adele hinted that I’m suppressing a part of myself. But Titania, as my myth, has some scary future prospects…
“Fiona?”
“Hmm? Oh, no, sorry,” she laughed, flashing her teeth and bonking her own head. She shoved down the revelation; it wasn’t as if Anthony could really do anything about this, and she’d rather not talk about it when Merlin could be listening. “I’m just lost in my head. But I am worried…”
She brought his attention to the window, where the titanic tree spilled out waterfalls into the Thames River, clouded in mist as crimson clouds encircled its colossal branches. “She’s screaming for help… At first, it was a cry, but something changed. Has Selvaria figured out anything by going below it?”
Anthony breathed out a long sigh and walked further into the room to give them a better look at it; they’d needed to relocate from their original safe house since it was overtaken by the expanded tree.
“She just got back, actually, and confirmed that the river’s far, far deeper than it should be. It should be 50 to 100 meters deep. Yet…she went down 500 meters and on the way down, started to notice changes; all the city infrastructure below it was all floating, as if the rock vanished.”
“Ominous,” Fiona mumbled, tilting her body to get a better look at the bright fruit that gave off lights as if solar starlight across its branches; the media called them sun fruit. “She wouldn’t be satisfied with that. How deep did she go?”
Anthony’s cheeks puffed out as he forced a chuckle. “Uh, that’s the crazy thing. The World Tree’s roots have grown larger and spread everywhere—they’re huge, like skyscrapers, she says, but I don’t know if she’s exaggerating or not. It is Selv.”
“True.”
Piper strolled in with a dramatic sigh. “You aren’t telling her the best part. There is no bottom,” the vampiress said with fascination, opening the window to let in the strong, storm-like winds that made the drapes whip back. “What lovely weather!”
[Wind Shield: Activated]
“No bottom?” Fiona asked, happy to have something to help distract her from all the stress in her life, if only for a moment. After all, today was when she planned to return to the Scarlet Hand to figure out what they actually wanted her to do. “There has to be a bottom.”
“Well, technically, there should be,” Anthony returned, carrying her away from the violent winds and into the living room, where the news was playing. “Selvaria discovered the Thames gradually widens until it reaches just…a straight line—like a shelf—that’s as far as her senses can pick up.”
Fiona’s mind blanked, trying to picture what he just said. “You can’t mean…all of the UK is floating?! What happened to all the rock?”
“Good question, Fi,” Selv mumbled from across the flat couch she lay on, [Water Pool] severely drained to reduce her weight, and in her small teen stage. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. It’s like a whole new world down there, with new, magical plants and sealife. Some tasty big monsters. I’m actually pretty stuffed,” she added with a smile, despite the monotone delivery.
“She assumes they’re magical,” Anthony corrected, making the leviathan’s cheeks puff up.
“And what would you call rainbow ferns the size of a building that zap nearby fish?”
“You didn’t add that part to the report,” Anthony grumbled with a dull stare.
“Details, details. You should just believe me. Merlin’s getting me a camera to take pictures. Oh, did Mr. Lover Boy tell you he got a call from Major Fangs?”
“Scarlet?” Fiona’s pointed ears perked up, looking up at the legend. “No.”
“I was a little preoccupied with her well-being. Anyway, yes, Scarlet called with an update about Montana, and we’ve got some more intelligence about what’s happening here.”
He dropped into a seat, and she transferred to the chair’s armrest, kicking her legs out and watching the news as he momentarily argued with the sea monster about eating weird things.
The BBC correspondent looked frazzled, her usually perfect hair slightly disheveled as she stood before a backdrop of what used to be Westminster. “—evacuations have been expanded again overnight as the World Tree’s absorption zone has tripled in size. The Prime Minister is expected to address the nation within the hour as government operations have been completely relocated after the Palace of Westminster and Big Ben were completely overtaken by the expanding base, absorbing it rather than destroying…”
Selvaria looked up from where she was sprawled, now ignoring Anthony’s caution about eating toxic clams that make her tongue numb, her teenage form somehow managing to convey both boredom and alertness simultaneously.
“So, are you really okay? I was starting to worry the tree-pain thing was worse for tiny people. A few dryads were picked up by the police trying to make their way to a root, saying it was calling to them.”
“Yeah, there is a lot of craziness going on. Did they figure out what caused the Second Oscillation? Uh, where’s Cahira?” Fiona asked, noticing the provocative pirate’s absence as Piper moved to sit across from Anthony.
“Already off with Jack Ward,” Anthony groaned, a yawn coming on. “Apparently, he contacted her, and they have some urgent ‘pirate business’ to discuss. She left around dawn.”
“Jack Ward?” Fiona’s wings perked up with interest. “Wait, where have I heard that name before? History class?”
Piper pulled out a cell phone, which looked a little weird, as the vampire from another world began scrolling through it with expert precision. “I looked him up—your internet is so very useful! I’ve proposed that my mother create something similar with magical artifacts on our planet, but she believes it is quite too ambitious at this point. As for Jack, evidently, his legend is used in one of your famous media productions—something Sparrow?”
“Oh… OH!” Fiona’s eyes widened. “I don’t know how to feel about that. What’s your take on him, Anthony? I mean, I know Cahira trusts him, but…it’s Cahira. She’s also kind of, you know…”
Anthony rubbed his neck, a gesture Fiona had learned meant he was choosing his words carefully. “Honestly? He’s…weirdly competent. Charismatic in that roguish way that makes you want to trust him even when your brain is screaming not to, which makes me feel like he’s dangerous. Cahira seems to think he’s found a new path to getting us into Ireland, and given her own legend, I’m inclined to believe her expertise on pirate matters. Selv?”
“Pfft. Cahira’s a chaotic, magnetic force of nature. She’s a natural flirt, a drunk, and a freedom-loving soul. Flamboyant to the core,” the leviathan said with a fond smile, her tail swishing behind her. “Sure, she’s kind of a trickster, and my mom kind of hates her guts for giving me alcohol, but she’s fun and a true, loyal friend.”
The dragon’s toothy grin faltered as she pivoted. “Him, though? Yeah, I don’t know. Cahira wants me to come with her tomorrow to some big pirate meeting, which sounds fun, but I’m worried about you, Fi… You’re leaving today?”
Piper’s gaze flicked up, dancing between them and no doubt studying their emotional responses to understand humans better. Fiona had no clue why Elizebeth let her loose, but there had to be a reason.
“Don’t worry about me! And yeah…I need to get back to Nora. I already feel really guilty. I have to protect her. It’s complicated…because I know we need to rescue Ireland.”
Fiona’s attention drifted to the pale vampire noble, who had somehow managed to make herself look perfectly at home despite being from another world entirely, complete with rather modest, casual clothes. “Speaking of complications… Piper, you mentioned wanting to help with the Ireland mission? What about your world?”
Piper’s dark lips curved into what might have been a smile, showing pointed fangs. “I did indeed, little fairy. My…particular set of skills might prove useful in breaching supernatural barriers. Plus, I confess a certain curiosity about your world. I am quite fond of a certain legend from Ireland, after all,” she stated without a blush.
Selvaria’s expression soured, though her monotone voice remained flat. “Great. And here I thought she was temporary. Bringing a vampire should be good, right? Because that always goes well—Scarlet excluded.”
“I sense some hostility, Ms. Monster,” Piper observed with a chortle. “Have I done something to offend you?”
“Uh, yeah, you exist,” Selvaria bluntly returned. “Also, you keep staring at Anthony like he’s a snack…when he’s engaged.”
The vampire’s bright eyes gleamed, her large wings fluttering slightly. “How can there be such envy and possessiveness when your world states, ‘till death do us part?’ Is that not correct?”
Before the tension could escalate further, Anthony’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression immediately shifting to relief. “It’s Scarlet. I’ll put it on speaker. She said she’d give us a full update.”
He answered quickly, putting it on speaker. “Scarlet, is Rachel awake?”
Scarlet’s voice was tight with exhaustion and worry. “Eh, no, not really. Hopefully, she’ll be up by the time the Spirit of Conquest, or whatever it is, shows up, but I’m not doing okay,” she groaned. “Is everyone there? Is Fi okay? Maria’s worried but…she collapsed again after healing Rachel.”
Heat rose up in Fiona’s chest, her dust turning ruby-hued. “Tell her Fiona is going to curse at her! Make sure she takes care of herself. She’s been pushing herself too much. Isn’t there anyone else in the military who can help manage the load? Felix must be stressed out, worrying about his big sister. Has anyone called him?”
“Uh, no, sorry. I’ll do that next,” Scarlet promised, the eighteen-year-old girl sounding totally exhausted. “Grace has been stepping up and helping me with, uh, local stuff. Florida is sort of going crazy, too, with weird weather patterns—anyway, she says Rachel should recover to an acceptable position now.”
“Soul damage?” Selvaria asked dully.
“Mhm!”
“Knew it. You owe me twenty, fang-face.”
“What?”
“No, I wasn’t talking to you, Scarlet, sorry.”
Piper’s frame shook with silent laughter as she unfurled a wing to pass over what looked like a twenty-dollar bill. “How can it be soul damage when she doesn’t even know how to use her soul? I still cannot grasp that concept… These Seeds are quite unique and dangerous.”
“At least be a little annoyed you lost…”
Anthony cleared his throat. “As you were saying, Scarlet? What’s going on over there?”
“Oh, nothing much,” the girl said with a strained laugh. “You know, the usual, General Dallas brought a problem to us—a senator’s granddaughter. She…had an attitude and is in a weird place…
“Well, Rachel sort of beat her face in, literally, having Maria heal her after, traumatizing her. A new harpy mythickin—Aella. ” She paused, seemingly trying to find the words. “…She is terrified of Rachel, but respects her? She doesn’t want to join Omen, I think, but…wants to remain in contact and maybe start her own private military company? It’s weird.”
Fiona could see that image perfectly, which she didn’t know was a good or bad thing.
“On another note, Rachel had a friendly battle with Green, from Fable, that was televised and cool… From there, everything went downhill! Nam had an assassination attempt made against him with a Mexican secret mana bomb.”
“What?!” Fiona shot into the air, blood running cold. “Is he okay?! Rachel would have gone ballistic.”
Selvaria’s tail ceased its sway, vision narrowing. “I’m guessing that’s why she’s unconscious? I didn’t think anything could sneak up on Rach. Is that war with Mexico?”
Anthony glanced toward the defensive sea dragon and shook his head. “No, she told me about this earlier. It was a big plot to frame the Mexican government. Rachel sniffed that out fast, but…things went downhill from there fast.”
“Interesting. Go on,” Piper prompted, crossing her legs, her wings quivering with excitement. “I don’t get to hear such fun stories in my world. Everything is typically so…dry and structured court politics.”
“Well,” Scarlet began, prolonging it with a hiss, “to make a long story short, Rachel sort of used—eh, you’re all alone, right? No, I guess this will come out sooner or later. She…collapsed an entire Fable realm—like a mini-legend world, I think? Ali Baba’s, to be specific, and we found out it was Russia that tried to do it.”
Selvaria’s left eye lifted. “So…it’s war with Russia?”
“I don’t know!” Scarlet cried, sounding as if she was ripping out her own hair. “Rachel makes all these decisions. Anthony, I’m…kind of floundering here. What should I do? I’m having Grace do all the public stuff with General Dallas. Nam was burned really badly but had some kind of help from, eh…higher forces, and Alexa is going through…something. I don’t want to mess any of this up.”
“Hey, hey,” Anthony whispered, picking up the phone and taking it off speaker. He waved at them with a warm smile before going into the room she’d slept in, shutting the door to comfort the panicking vespertine reaper. “…It’ll be okay, Scarlet. Tell me what’s on your heart, I’m going into the other room…”
Things were relatively quiet until Anthony returned, Fiona’s mind running through her own fantasy of Rachel, shrouded in black flames and red lightning, destroying a realm like a villain. She’d seen some recently leaked footage of street cameras catching Rachel’s return from Conner’s Legend Quest, looking totally demonic with Yomi’s Moon energy coursing through her.
When the legend walked back through the door, there was a satisfied, compassionate smile on his face. “…Scarlet gave me the details. She’s doing better,” he reassured, seeing their expressions. “Grace is the Legend of Calamity Jane, who has joined Omen and is turning out to be pretty reliable, all things considered. As for everything else, there’s not much we need to be worried about. They’re handling things there, so we can handle things here.”
He paused before letting out a laugh that had all of them tilting their head in question.
“You know the Second Oscillation?”
“Obviously,” Selv mumbled.
“Well… According to Grace, Rachel caused it, battling Eldritch forces.”
Fiona’s shoulders slumped. “Now that…is crazy. Insane. I know the woman who changed the world. Does that mean she did it the first time, or are we still convinced it was the Scarlet Hand?”
Anthony shook his head, moving to drop back into his chair. “I don’t think so. We also aren’t positive it was the Scarlet Hand. Their rituals were more about directing it rather than causing it, to be fair.”
“Semantics in my book,” the sea dragon voiced.
“Sure, Selv, but when Rachel does get up, we can get clearer answers, but I just thought that was just the kind of chaos Rachel runs right into… Anyway, we have our own mission to focus on.”
The room fell silent except for the continued BBC coverage in the background. “…reports of the Legend of Queen Elizabeth the First making public appearances have caused massive political upheaval, with cabinet members arguing over concerns about public sentiment and constitutional authority. Duke Arthur of the House of Lords has…”
“Elizabeth the First?” Fiona echoed into the silence, staring at the screen. “Has there been a US President who’s come out to the public or anyone else? No, I guess there has been, but everywhere is dominated by local news…” she mumbled as the news kept going.
“…healing springs in Hyde Park drawing thousands of desperate citizens as military cordons struggle to maintain order…”
“I wonder if it tastes like lemonade? I’m sold. Where do I buy some?” Selvaria muttered.
“…Scottish authorities report mysterious overnight draining of Highland lochs, with sonar readings showing impossible underground cavern systems…”
“…communications with Ireland remain completely severed as the supernatural storm system shows no signs of weakening. Scientists are drawing possible connections with the crimson storm circling parts of London’s World Tree as a secondary tree rises out of Iceland. Norway claims ownership as their myths move to secure…”
Another tree? Could that be causing problems?
Fiona found herself staring at the television with the others, processing everything while watching footage of the expanded evacuation zones around the World Tree. In another area north of London, hundreds of thousands of people were displaced, their homes consumed by a growing cancer or corruption that abruptly stopped as soon as it reached the roots. The UK military was surrounding it, with support from the US.
The growing cancer stopped at the roots—but hers hadn’t.
What does that say about me? How can I be dreaming about anything…but saving Nora?
“Fi,” Anthony gently prompted, snapping her out of her reverie.
“Hmm?”
“We need to talk about your plan to work with the Scarlet Hand. There has to be some kind of exit strategy for you and Nora. I know the Scarlet Hand claims they can help fix the problem, and I can see Adele trying to be honest.”
“Really?” Selvaria asked, face showing doubt. “The same mom who turned her into this monster?”
“There’s…more behind the scenes to that that I can’t get into right now,” Anthony stated. “But if everything we’ve learned is true, and Astra is to be trusted—which even Scarlet is skeptical of, but Rachel seems somewhat convinced of—then she’s trying to do all of this for Scarlet. As misplaced as it is, she sees herself as a necessary evil. So, she could be sincere.”
“Sure,” Fiona whispered, reflecting on her interaction with the leader of the Scarlet Hand, “but I…do not trust Crowley for my life, as logical as he can make things sound. He has this…feeling, like he has a manipulative aura. Evil, I don’t know. He’s just…wrong. Merlin?”
Just then, the wizard materialized in the center of the room, his ghostly form flickering with agitation. “I apologize for the dramatic entrance and interruption, but we have a situation developing. Ms. White. A mystical stag-related problem, to be precise…”
Fiona’s fingers dug into her lap. No, not when I’m awake now, too!
Merlin didn’t miss her tightening frame, and everyone else in the room turned to her. “…You know this stag? Perhaps you could enlighten us, because color me surprised when a giant, crystal stag appeared in front of Westminster Palace. And when I brought an animal linguist…your name was mentioned, High Queen?”
“Ooh. So you’re actually a queen now, and not only that, but a superior rank,” Piper clapped. “Congratulations. When do we get the privileges?”
Merlin didn’t respond to the vampire, calm, calculating eyes surveying her in that mystical way the young man could sometimes show. “I believe we are starting to see more about you that interests Adele.”
Fiona's wings fluttered nervously. “This is getting too much. I just want to help my little sister!”
“My dear,” Merlin’s staff began to glow with soft blue light, “it does not need to be exclusive. The World Tree isn’t just calling to any Feakin… You were the first to realize her pain, and that she zeroed in on. She’s calling to you specifically. And I think I know why you’ve been having these dreams.”
“You knew?” How?” Fiona mumbled, Anthony now frowning and holding his closed fist to his mouth, clearly wanting an answer, as well. “I have been having dreams about a crystalline stag, and a lot of other creatures, who call me…High Queen Titania,” she hesitantly finished.
“…High Queen Titania,” Merlin repeated thoughtfully, yet there was a crease in his brow that almost looked like…frustration? “Interesting. We will need to unpack that in time. This stag must be your guide that the tree sent, I suspect…or allowed him to use her network to reach you. And this gateway—it’s within the Parliament building, isn’t it? I’ve sensed colossal natural magic growing within it over the past day.”
Before Fiona could answer, her vision suddenly blurred. The room around her faded, replaced by a misty forest glade. The crystalline stag stood before her, its antlers catching light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
“High Queen,” he spoke, voice like wind through ancient leaves, “the way will open to you, and you alone… She bids me to invite you to her inner sanctum, but warns you that you must first visit the corrupted hand. I can be your guide…”
“The World Tree?” Fiona asked with an exasperated laugh, throwing up her hands as the mist swirled around her. “How can I be the Myth of Titania? She was basically a goddess in Shakespeare, not a mythical creature! I’m not that powerful. I don’t understand what everyone expects from me. Can you help me save my little sister or not?!” she demanded, feeling tears coming on. “That is my one and only priority right now!”
The stag stared at her for several long moments before bowing his head. “Your word is law, High Queen. If that is where your heart lies, so too does it envelope my own. You are the bridge between realms, the one who speaks to all nature… But your power sleeps still, bound by doubt and guilt. If you wish to save your sister, first, that must be remedied. Come to me, and accept who you are…”
The vision faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Fiona blinking back to awareness, mind filled with confused anger. Everyone was staring at her with varying degrees of concern as her dust gradually turned a deeper shade of red.
“Fi?” Anthony asked carefully. “You just…vanished into fog? Piper says you were still here…but not. It’s been a full minute.”
“The stag,” she growled. “I’m sick of inaction. Anthony… I know I’m supposed to go to Ireland with you guys. Selv, I know you’re worried about me.”
Selvaria’s brow set, already on her feet, tail swaying with agitation as she crossed her arms. “No, I have faith in you, High Queen! You are the hero of myths, awakening to save your kingdom!”
“Wha—Selv?” Fiona gasped.
Anthony shook with pained laughter. “I think that’s just her inner story, Fi. You know her.”
“No, it’s called logic!” Selv returned, tapping her skull. “I follow breadcrumbs like a detective.”
Merlin nodded grimly. “It seems you may, Selv. It is as I suspected. Ms. White, I believe you may be far more than a Fairy Queen Mythickin. The signs are all there—the dreams, the voices, the World Tree’s specific response to you.” He paused, his expression growing serious. “I believe you may be the reincarnation of Titania herself.”
Hugging herself, Fiona shook her head. “I don’t know how to feel about that. Isn’t she manipulated and basically a pawn to Oberon? Who even is Oberon in this story?”
Merlin rubbed his chin and studied her for a moment. “I may be a tad off-base here…but what if you aren’t actually a Mythickin, but the figure of Titania herself? Because, if I’m correct, that would explain why the Celtic goddesses are beginning to stir in the background. Why the World Tree first responded to you, strengthening her calls, and why the Scarlet Hand is so interested in you.
“And that isn’t the only way to read that tale… Oberon couldn’t overpower you; he had to trick you, and that story may have been given to Shakespeare in fragmented dreams that were interpreted to the culture of the time, not in its totality.”
“W-Wait, wait, wait…” Fiona trailed off, thinking of all the times she’d felt different, never satisfied with what she did, always succeeding at whatever she did, the way animals had always seemed to understand her…and the rejection of her nature, her move away from her homeland to the US. “I’m just…Fiona. I can’t deal with any of that right now…”
“Then don’t, just Fiona, who speaks to animals and makes plants bloom with her presence?” Merlin smiled gently, gesturing toward the ground where seeds someone seemed to have tracked in on their shoes had spontaneously grown at some point. “Just Fiona, who has dreams of crystalline stags and grand worlds? My dear, you have never been ‘just’ anything. But, fair enough…”
He gestured toward the door. “Focus on Nora, and bend everything around that lens. Because, if you are Titania, whatever her—your story, it will surely be revealed as time moves… And Nora’s unique transformation can’t be coincidental.”
That framing immediately snagged Fiona’s attention. Merlin was still a mystery, as much as the Scarlet Hand was, and he’d been fighting the Scarlet Hand since before the Oscillation itself, but he wasn’t wrong.
Making up her mind to discover the truth, Fiona floated higher in the air, dust returning to its golden hue. “Anthony?”
He rose with her, showing a supportive smile. “Leave your parents to us… I know you’re no pushover with that magic of yours. Just be careful.”
She zipped over and hugged his wrist. “Thanks for believing in me… And you, too, Selv!”
Flying over to give the wholesome and very dangerous sea monster her own hug, she left Ireland to them. Right now, she had to figure out more about her past. Not to let someone else save her sister, but so she could do that herself.
“Okay, let’s go!”
“Very well, Ms. White,” Merlin chuckled. “I will meet you there. I have one more thing to prepare…because I am going with you. At least inside the building. After all, I need to deliver a report to the Prime Minister about it.”
— — *
Magical projection fading, flashes of constricted space rushed past Merlin’s vision as he was drawn back to his true body. He found himself in a mystical tower—well, it hadn’t always been one. He looked around at the modern, clean, and quite organized place that, at one point, had been his ordinary London townhouse…
All of that changed after the Oscillation.
Merlin breathed a long stream of air that held stress he’d kept bottled up for far too long. Taking out his cell phone, he saw Aurther had called him, among several others, no doubt looking for a dozen updates and orders. After that, he took out a second cell phone—the director of MI6’s device.
Inputting the password he knew from far before his change, he grimaced at the concerned and angry messages that flooded its ID; naturally, the device was spelled to be untraceable at this point. Titania… The damn fairy queen in living flesh? How can I let the Scarlet Hand get their hands on someone as powerful as that? This is like handing a terrorist a nuke.
Nose twisting with agitation, he made his way through a false, magical wall that would only allow him entrance, going through the complex web of spatial defenses and traps to reach the dungeon.
He stopped before a complex containment circle, his staff glowing with power as he prepared to enter the secured chamber below. The transformation from mundane residence to something from his Legend Quest always left him slightly dizzy—reality bending to accommodate what he had once been, what he could still become when necessity demanded it.
The basement that awaited him was a contradiction to medieval architecture—ultra-modern security systems seamlessly integrated with ancient protective wards, creating a space that existed somewhere between cutting-edge technology and primordial magic. Holographic displays showed vital signs and magical resonance readings, while runic circles carved into the floor pulsed with soft blue light.
“Merlin,” came a voice from within the containment field, musical and mocking in equal measure. “Right on schedule. Didn’t I tell you this was when you’d return? You could have tried to make me a liar, but that utterly slipped your mind, didn’t it? Let me guess—the fairy girl finally flew into their web, and now you need the expertise of the woman you’ve kept locked in a basement for six weeks like some Victorian madman? At least you let me shower.”
He descended the stairs slowly, each step echoing in the chamber. At the center of the space, behind a shimmering barrier that was part energy field and part ancient ward, sat Morgana le Fay. She looked exactly as she had the day he’d discovered her true nature—professional business attire that somehow managed to seem regal, dark hair pulled back in the severe bun she’d favored as MI6 director, but with eyes that held the depth of centuries.
“Hello, Morgana,” he said quietly, stopping just outside the containment field. “You’re looking well.”
“Am I? As well as the last time we showered together?” she challenged with a provocative smile she knew would make him tense.
She stood gracefully, smoothing down her skirt with the same precise movements she’d used in a hundred intelligence briefings. “Six weeks of house arrest does wonders for the complexion, apparently… Especially when you’re a sealed goddess of war. Though I do miss my morning briefings. Tell me, how are you enjoying playing dress-up as the Director of MI6? All that power. Have you told Arthur? No… Bold move. Are the other children being nice to you in your stolen sandbox?”
There was no real venom in her words, just a kind of weary amusement that made his chest tighten with guilt. This was the problem with imprisoning someone you’d once loved—still loved—they knew exactly where to aim their barbs. Forbidden, superior-subordinate MI6 love, working together to take out the Scarlet Hand…only to discover her true nature and how she’d manipulated him from the start into this path.
“The situation has evolved,” he muttered, avoiding her question. "The World Tree, the UK now floating over an endless abyss as if the world crust vanished, the young fairy who’s apparently…Titania reborn. Once again, you were right.”
He sucked in his bottom lip, fighting past the betrayal and mumbling, “I…need your insight, M.”
“M? Now there’s a nickname I can still feel with hot air breathed into my ear at night,” Morgana laughed, the sound bitter but not unkind. “And my insight? Oh, that’s rich. Because the one thing I thought I knew…turned out to be false. The great Merlin, legendary wizard of Arthur’s court, whom I made you into…
“The one who said I was a, ahem, manipulative witch, needs help from his prisoner. Tell me, darling,” and the endearment was delivered with surgical precision, “exactly what part of ‘I can’t help you anymore if you keep treating me like an enemy’ was unclear? Six weeks, Lewis. I may be a 6th-dimensional deity outside of my sisters’ seals, but I have lived as a mortal woman for centuries…and only loved one man. You can’t imagine how a woman feels…”
“If the Tower gets you, M, I… You knew I couldn’t let you go in public after the Oscillation, after everything you told me. The Tower is looking for people just like you to exploit…to use, which is one reason why the Scarlet Hand and Fate sent all the sealed deities off the planet. Your legend is the pitfall of Arthur! I had to protect you—him, everyone!”
“Excuses? Really, Lewis? You’re better than that weak argument,” she snorted, rolling her eyes, arms crossed and tapping her bare feet against the ground, heels long since removed. “Are you making an argument that you are protecting me or are defending the world from someone somehow gaining access to my divine soul?”
His blood began to pump faster, unable to look her in the eyes.
She began pacing within her containment, each step deliberate and controlled. “Six weeks. Six weeks of you making decisions about my life, my freedom, my very existence, without bothering to ask what I might want. And now that your carefully laid plans are crumbling, with little Fiona walking into dangers you can’t protect her from, suddenly you remember that I might—might—have useful knowledge as, you know, a goddess? Not a trusted boss and confidant, one who revealed her identity to.”
“Morgan—”
“No.” Her voice cut through his attempt at explanation like a blade. “You don’t get to ‘Morgan’ me. Not anymore. You want my help? My expertise? My knowledge of both the ancient arts and modern intelligence operations—my sisters’ help?”
She stopped pacing and faced him directly, her eyes blazing with controlled fury. “Then start by admitting that locking me away was wrong. Swallow that cosmic-sized pride. Admit that keeping me isolated while pretending to be me was a betrayal of everything we once meant to each other… That you made a critical mistake…before it is too late.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken history. Finally, Merlin’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of weeks of deception, confusion, and guilt finally showing. Weeks of thinking about her next to him, her lips on his, and the way her fingers flowed through his fingers in quiet moments—inappropriate moments—at the office, behind closed doors.
“You’re right,” he whispered, his voice cracking like a man who’d been holding his breath underwater. “About all of it…”
Stepping forward, he looked down at her crossed arms, firm, like the war goddess she was, yet there were slight quakes there, locked inside of a magical cage with only the thoughts about the betrayal haunting her heart for weeks.
“I was terrified of what it all meant…of losing you, of making the wrong choices. So, I made the coward’s choice instead and locked away the problem rather than facing it with you…”
His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, sleepless nights and endless regret written across his features. “I’ve been sick about it every day since, M. Every morning I wake up in that empty bed, every time I take your form and sit in your chair, pretending to be you…
“No, there is no excuse. I broke your trust. I broke us. And the worst part is, I knew it would destroy everything beautiful we’d built together, but I was so afraid of losing you to the Tower…afraid that you’d leave me once you did find a way past all the dimensional walls to ascend again…that I lost you to my own fear.”
He finally met her eyes, his own bright with unshed tears. “You deserved honesty, partnership, a choice in your own fate—and I gave you a cage because I was too selfish to risk letting you go…
“I know I don’t deserve you. You’re right, like always, and I broke my own heart too, because loving you was the best thing I ever did, and destroying that trust was the worst.”
His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I hate myself for what I’ve done to you, for what I’ve done to us. But I hope you know that every choice I made, wrong as it was, came…from loving you too much to let you go. Like Merlin, I trapped myself in a cave of my own design over love.”
Something shifted in Morgana’s expression as his words hung in the air, the fury banking to reveal the raw hurt underneath. For a long moment, she simply stared at him, her arms gradually uncrossing as her carefully maintained composure finally cracked.
“You absolute fool,” she whispered, but there was no venom in it—just exhaustion and something that might have been relief. “For six weeks, Lewis, you led me into a spiral, making me wonder if what we had meant anything to you at all… I am mortal at this moment, despite what my sealed soul may be, and that creates vulnerabilities even I am blind to…which my sisters cannot help with…not since being trapped behind the 12th Wall. I told you, I’m sealed in a way where even the deities cannot know my identity… Truly sealed.”
She pressed her palm against the barrier between them, her voice breaking slightly. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to love someone who sees you as a threat to be contained rather than a partner to trust? I didn’t. Not truly. I never had to deal with such betrayal because only my sisters held that place in my heart.”
She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the shimmering field. “I knew you were afraid. I could see it in your eyes the moment I told you what I really was. But I thought… I hoped you’d choose to trust me anyway. That maybe, for once in my very long life, someone would see all of me—the goddess, the spy, the woman—and choose to stay.”
When she opened her eyes again, they were bright with tears she’d been holding back for weeks. “The worst part isn’t that you locked me away, Lewis. It’s that you didn’t even give me the chance to prove I would have chosen you over ascension…but maybe that would have fed your fear more. I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t. It’s messy…as these things should be.”
In one fluid motion, he pressed his hand against the barrier and waved it away, breaking the wall between them for the storm to return; only, Morgana was always a controlled storm.
She straightened, some of her old authority returning even as her voice remained soft. “Now then—if we’re done destroying each other, I believe you were about to mention something about me being right, and Fiona is a human child, infused with Titania’s soul essence? Because if that’s what you were going to tell me, we have much bigger problems than our broken hearts.”
For a moment, she seemed to hold herself back, arm half-raising to pull him in before turning away and collecting her heels. Slipping them on, she showed that same corporate smile as if everything was water under the bridge, but he knew that was just an illusion.
All he could do was open the cage and set the raven free.
“Shall we?”
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