Stone Cold

Chapter 2: Opal

Seelie Kingdom

Brightly colored frocks spun from web and gossamer whirled around him. Wings looped past. Centaurs trotted in slashes of orange, medals and badges high on their collars. The human band hummed the start of an old ballad, but Puck was not listening. He was busy being worried and a bit irritated, leaning against a pillar and watching the guests as they twisted on the dance floor.

It was hot in the ballroom. The windows were edged with frost, but inside was a furnace. Candles were lit, furnaces stoked, and the lights burned so bright that the air around them rippled and the ceiling was heavy with fumes. His people were trying to ignore the incoming invasion, hoping the warmth of their fire would melt all the remnants of their enemies.

“This is a great party,” a noble, who’s name Puck could not recall, sidled up to him. "It's a magnificent way to tell the Unseelie that we are confident to go into battle with them tomorrow."

She was one of Lady Brighton’s more fleshy daughters. A pale lavender frock domed over her figure and bright rings were forced into her swollen fingers. It made Puck think of the bloated men that the mermaids would float up the water.

“Great,” Puck answered. He scanned the room, actively ignoring the woman.

She did not take the hint. “It would take more than a few stones to take our kingdom down. Those Unseelie savages could not possibly compete with our superior intellect and experience.”

Puck sighed. He picked up his glass again, turning it slowly. It's probably the only way I'll get out of this party. Then he flicked it down and watched as the red liquid seeped into the lavender turning the wretched gown dastardly brown.

“I’m terribly sorry, my lady. Please let me send someone to assist you.” He chattered grabbing a homunculus serving drinks, he let the whole tray fall over and drench her.

The train of material folded over, the silver buttons dulled, and the stiff white neckline was black with god-knows-what.

She ran out the room in tears. Puck looked up and saw the queen stare at him, a smile quirked her lips. She quickly wiped it away, sending him a stern look and quirking her head towards the balcony. 

Finally.

 Puck swept through the balcony doors, his shoulders up around his ears to keep from freezing. The cold was sinking into his bones. His legs had gone stiff as trunks. But the uncomfort he was feeling didn't equal to what he endured in the party. He floated towards the ledges and looked at what his home had become.

The kingdom had become a beast after the many battles; the grooves of dead trees were its throats, the piles of dead soldiers its bellies and the dilapidated castle its head, and ever since the Unseelie curse was cast the beast had begun to hunger for more. It was the centaurs that had come first, ordered by the Queen to chase away the fae that had been infected by the Stone and to gather more subjects for her army. After them came the goblins and treasure hunters, with their metal traps and spinenettle knives. They ravage about at night collecting the organs of the infected fae who had not already left and stealing the items they left behind.

The end is near.

He looked up. The moon was red up in the sky. The clouds drifted, silvery masses tinted in crimson, snagging on the spires of ice and tips of branches. It was then, when he saw a young girl.

His heart stopped, just like that, as if it had frozen stiff.

The spritely creature was standing on a dragon’s head as she furiously scribbled on its surface. She was not in the palace. No spires of ice and blackened trees stood behind her. Instead, sloping rooftops and scrolled figures graced her back.  She blew on the Dragon’s head and her breath drew out the dragon, as its silver scales riveted across its limbs.

The prince had found her.

She stared straight at him, bright blue eyes that echoed the loneliness in his heart. She was so close that he could feel the whisper of her papery white skin and the smattering of freckles on her upturned nose. Just as quickly, the girl dissolved and an emotion sparked in the depths of his soul.

Hope.

 

And then, all at once, a hush sliced through the crowd, a disturbance, like the silence before a strike. The quiet bloomed from the middle of the ballroom floor to the very corners of the room. It swelled and suffocated. Icicles formed in the dips of the chandeliers and extinguished what was left of the furnace.

The ballroom had become deathly still. No words. No movements. Even the human band had frozen in place.

A centaur stood in the center of the room. Its frame suspended by pillars of ice as his figure slowly encased itself in granite. He spasmed, once, twice as if being hit into submission by an unknown force.

The ice melted and he began to fall, slowly. The last of his face turned to stone before he struck the ground, hard granite broke into powder and from its remains came forth the spiders. They climbed out of the carcass and charged into the crowd.

The ladies screamed and glass broke. Fear rolled in thick waves. Puck flew before the fear smothered the only hope he had of saving his home.

ATrailOfCookieCrumbs: Thank you.