Chapter 15: Hope is the Thing With Feathers

To Top

“That… wouldn’t have worked anyway, Drakara. You… you know that.” She tries to lift herself, bits of debris digging into her palms, but half of her body simply won’t budge. As if it doesn’t even see the point in moving at all.

“Of course. Just as I knew the Acrimonious Paint Brush wouldn’t turn you entirely grey. You’re too powerful, and I’m not suited for the Brush the way I thought the Grey Painter was…” Drakara looks back on the sheepish Yurble still clinging onto Vocivus’s crest for dear life. “He really is the perfect little bitter battery. Which is why I’ll hold onto him a bit longer. I’m certain I can convince him to be my Grey Painter once more… after I remove all of his distractions.” Drakara turns over the Acrimonious Paint Brush in her hands, lost in thought for the briefest of moments.

“As proud as I am of my masterpiece, its effects are still not immutable. Not like the ritual.” Suddenly, Drakara’s eyes SNAP up from the brush and fixate back on Fyora. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that – we were both at the ritual that turned me grey, weren’t we?”

“Drakara.. I-” Fyora tries to tenderly chip in, but she can barely get a word out before she’s cut off.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fifi. It was never about you - or about what you did. That may be a hard concept for you to wrap your mind around…” Drakara’s gaze falls upon Baelia. “But perhaps your little friend here can help you. You may not be completely grey yet, but give it time… This one, on the other hand, has had plenty of time to get used to it.” Drakara looms over Baelia. “Haven’t you, my little caged bird?”

“I… I…” Baelia can’t hear herself stuttering over the sound of her heart. It’s beating faster and louder than it ever has before. Faster and louder than it’s intended to. The world starts spinning around her as her legs turn to jelly and feel like they’ve vanished entirely, as if they’d never existed at all. She’s pretty sure she’s still trying to say anything other than “I”.

It feels as though each breath is smaller and quicker than the last as the edges of her vision begin to blur into all too familiar iron bars. A cloaked figure taunts her from the other side of the cage. A sinister smile leers at her from just beneath the cowl, hateful eyes gleaming as the hood obscuring them is pulled back, both burned forever into her memory. The very same sinister smile before her now.

There is no more doubt. She can’t deny it any longer.

Baelia takes a slow, deep breath before gingerly exhaling the words she had been struggling to find.

“It is you… Jennumara.” Baelia’s eyes slowly trail up to her sneering former captor.

“So, you do remember me, then. I’m flattered,” Drakara derides her, tousling her hair. Fyora looks on at the conversation with confusion.

“Jennumara?” Fyora repeats the name aloud. Tavi seems to be the only one who recognises the name.

“No… B, is this the Faerie who-”

“Imprisoned her? Yes. And you must be the pest that freed her.” Drakara examines her nails inattentively, like she hasn’t got a care in the world. She certainly doesn’t care that Tavi is there. Eyes ablaze with fury, the Kyrii tries to step forward, but Baelia clutches onto her, holding her tight. Her pleading eyes meet Tavi’s, quelling the fire within them. Drakara hardly notices, continuing.

“That magic lock wasn’t my finest work, I admit... “ She glances down at Fyora, a cruel smile reaching from ear to ear. Using the end of her lance, Drakara tilts up Fyora’s chin. “But I’ve improved on the design since then. What do you say we test it out on our newest Grey Faerie, hm?” Fyora turns away as forcefully as she can muster.

“Unless we have any volunteers, that is?” Drakara spins to face the others. The entire group, even the headstrong Aisha, are all frozen in fear. After all, who in Neopia could stand up to someone strong enough to defeat Queen Fyora? Who in their right mind would dare challenge such an indomitable force of nature? As she glances over the despondent faces of her dwindling opposition, Drakara is certain they all grasped that stark reality. However, she didn’t glance low enough.

“That’s what I-”

“Bark!” Drakara blinked. She was… interrupted? Who in the world would still risk defying her? She looks across the stunned faces in front of her. None of them seems to be responsible for that noise.

“Bark! Bark!” Incensed, Drakara’s eyes flit around until they find the culprit. Near her feet, standing beside the fallen Faerie Queen, is a Doglefox. Tiny, fatigued, and grey from head to toe, but definitely a Doglefox.

“You can’t be-”

“Bark! Bark! Bark!” Relentless, the Petpet barks and growls away, even growing bold enough to nip at the edges of her dress.

“Why, you brazen little vermin! What impudence. Vocivus, show this little mongrel what a real beast sounds like!” Drakara raises the large crystal she first used to summon the creature of the Void, and it glows and hums with a strange power. Vocivus brings his maw down to face Styx before unleashing a thunderous roar upon him.

“YELP!” Styx takes off running, tail between his legs, heading straight towards the Haunted Woods looming far off in the distance.

“Now, where were we before I was rudely interru-”

“You sure like to hear yourself talk.” Nyx murmurs. She shakes off her fear and steps forward.”Normally, I stand up to bullies like you without a second thought, but I haven’t been feeling like myself lately… ” Nyx glances over at Styx’s shrinking form as he runs toward the horizon. “Lucky for me, that Doglefox has more than enough heart for the both of us. And after this is over, you will apologise for scaring him!” Her hand crackles with purple energy as void tendrils spring from around her wrist.

Drakara couldn’t care less.

With a lethargic snap of her fingers, she summons two of her Abyssal Acolytes before them. Bones and armour creak with every step as the skeletal soldiers converge on Nyx. Despite their reanimated appearance, they move deftly with tactical precision. The largest of the two, which appeared to have at one point in history been a Kau based on bone structure, raises its shield, hooves planted firmly. Despite Nyx’s void tendrils lashing out fiercely, the ancient warrior holds their ground, blocking her extending wisps from even reaching a yawning Drakara. While the skeletal Kau keeps up their ironclad defence, the smaller of the two warriors advances on Nyx, deftly twirling their handaxes. Before she knows it, Nyx is backpeddling away from the slashing Abyssal Acolyte that was once a Draik.

“Well, now that those impolite ruffians are learning how to better conduct themselves, we can continue conversing like civilised faeries.” Drakara diverts her focus back to the group as Fyora finally pulls herself up.

“I… don’t understand. How did you…?” Fyora trails off as she speaks, perhaps unsure if she truly wants the answer.

“Become so powerful? Get this far without you? Turn into this half-grey abomination? I already answered all of those questions. Weren’t you listening?” Drakara raps her fingers in mock annoyance.

“Your new name…” Fyora’s eyes widen as the pieces click together.

“So you have been following along! Jennumara was the name bestowed upon me, and with it, came new purpose.”

“Who gave you… Wait, it couldn’t have been-” Fyora doesn’t have a chance to finish the thought before Drakara interjects.

“Ah, I’ve already said too much. Besides, we have more urgent matters to discuss…” Drakara’s eyes fall to Baelia as she fiddles with loose grains of sand between her fingers.

“Why, of course. You’ll have your magic and be able to fly. I could grant you it to you all once more.” Drakara says as she raises her hand to Baelia’s face and wipes away a tear that she hadn’t even noticed.

“But how?”

“Oh my darling caged bird, I was the one who took your wings away. Who would know better than I how to restore them?” Drakara’s other hand now grasps Baelia’s face. She hears her friends trying to call to her, but they sound miles away. It is once again just her and Jennamura. Despite no bars being between them, she still could not escape her grasp.

“You’ve lost all your power. All your beauty. All your hope.”

Yes, Baelia thinks to herself, I know.

“But I made you what you are today. And I can make you into what you will be tomorrow, too.”

That makes sense…

“The most powerful, beautiful Light Faerie in all of Neopia.”

A Light Faerie? Her as a Light Faerie again? She hadn’t realised it until now, but she had stopped thinking of herself when it came to Light Faeries… but that’s what she wants, right? Luxinia pops into her mind, then, she is a powerful Light Faerie. Confident and comforting. Shining her brightest even when it’s hard. But she’s never really been anything like Luxinia…

Baelia tries to pull back, out of Drakara’s grasp, but her captor holds tight for a moment before releasing. But the Dark Faerie leaves her arm outstretched to Baelia. Waiting...

“B, don’t listen to her!” Tavi yells from somewhere behind her. She sounds closer now. Tavi! Tavi had done so much for her. Freed her, stayed with her, saw her… but it wasn’t enough. After all these years, they were never able to find her a name. Never able to figure out who she is.

Drakara’s hand reaches closer once more. Baelia hates her, has hated her, with every fibre of being, but… she isn’t wrong; without her, Baelia will always be nothing.

“You don’t need her!” Luxinia shouts. She sounds almost right next to Baelia now. “And you don’t need those wings to be useful! You’re more than that!”

The cries of her friends flood in. Her friends' words push back at Drakara's as hard as they can. Yet, Drakara doesn’t move. Her eyes simply flare as she says, “I’ve heard enough.” And with that, her friends’ voices ricochet away once more.

One voice remains, however. “Baelia, fight this!” Queen Fyora’s voice is weak, but her tone is persistent.

“Oh, Fifi. You, of all people, can’t be acting as though you are on this pitiful girl’s side now,” Drakara laughs as she turns to Fyora. Their eye contact breaks, and Baelia gasps for breath. “Not when you're the one who used to turn Faeries grey.”

“What… what do you mean?” Baelia’s voice almost fails.

“That’s not the full truth, and you know it!” Fyora shouts, turning towards Baelia with a pleading look of guilt. Baelia’s knees buckle, and she collapses to the ground, prompting her friends to try once more to move to her side. Drakara places a hand on her shoulder as a clear message to stay back.

“Come now, Fifi, tell her. Tell her how you hid away every reference to the Grey Ritual, because of how you doomed her and those like her!”

“The Grey Ritual?” Baelia says, barely above a whisper.

Fyora attempts to stand. Nyx and Juni aid her, but she only gets partway before collapsing again. The Queen takes a deep breath and seems to resign herself to the ground before continuing.

“It’s not how she makes it sound, I swear to you, Baelia.” Fyora's voice is weak, pleading, no longer the firm, regal cadence of a Queen's. “The Grey Ritual was meant to be a pilgrimage of sorts… One that faeries who felt a disconnect with their magic could voluntarily choose to undergo.”

“Why…why would you hide this?” Baelia says, as she wraps her arms around herself, trying to quell her shaking

“Because, ‘choice’! ‘Choose’ is the important word for this ritual, but the almighty Queen came to believe herself above that, didn’t she?!” Drakara’s words drip with malice.

“Faeries used to… choose to be turned grey?” Baelia asks, her head spinning.

“When I took my predecessor's throne, I forbade the use of the Grey Ritual as anything other than a means to help faeries find what called to them outside of their magical ties. The one time I went back on that… When I used it as a punishment– just like the former Queen… it changed everything.”

“It certainly did,” Drakara scoffs.

“I swear, I thought it was the only way to save you, Drakara!” Fyora cries, “The others, they wanted you–”

“Silence! You’ve said all we needed to hear.” Drakara smirks as she wrenches Baelia to her feet. “If you could forcibly turn others to ‘save’ them. Then so could I.”

“Don’t you see now, my little grey one,” Drakara continues as she pulls Baelia in closer. “There is still so much that you don’t know. Without me, you’ll forever remain a weakling on the outskirts of society.”

“Stop this,” Fyora’s voice once again pushes back at Drakara. She’s standing now, only slightly supported by Nyx. “There is a lot you don’t know, Baelia… And there is a lot I need to atone for, but the ritual only turned faeries grey. Their hearts are what transformed them after.”

The grey around Fyora begins to creep up her arm as she speaks. “Having someone else turn you into what they think is best… Well, just look at yourself, Drakara. How did that turn out for you?”

“I said silence!” Drakara spits as she turns to Fyora.

Without any hint of her next move, Fyora sends a surge of power right toward them, just close enough to Baelia that Drakara has to release her grip to block it. As Fyora’s attack streams forth, the grey afflicting her inches its way around her body, but she doesn’t stop, even as her other wing begins to droop.

Drakara easily blocks the attack, but it acts as a wall between her and Baelia. Baelia realises this is the perfect opportunity to flee, to leave Drakara’s grasp once more, but she finds she can not move. Until she feels something move across her shoulder. A shadow? She turns around. Someone stands there with the halo of the sun over their shoulder. “Who?” she whispers.

The figure steps forward. A little Kyrii, looking almost exactly the same as the first time they met like this, but with a familiar smile as she extends her hand out.

Tavi grabs Baelia's hand before anything else registers and pulls her back toward their friends. Fyora's magic dwindles as the two of them reach the group, and they all form a barrier around Baelia, as if protecting her from her former captor. And yet, even though she is safe amongst them, she can still feel the pull of Drakara’s gaze.

“Saying one final goodbye, are we?” Drakara chuckles. Baelia’s friends pull in closer around her, but the Dark Faerie seems unperturbed by their presence. Her glare cuts right through them to get to her. “We can go back and forth on this as many times as you’d like, but deep down you know we are the same.”

Drakara reaches out her hand, slowly, methodically. “You know I am your only option.”

Before she can even stop herself, Baelia takes a step forward, but her friends are all there in front of her.

“It’s okay, B. We’re here,” Tavi says, looking back at her over her shoulder as she stands ready with her climbing hooks out.

“Ya, don’t listen to her, Baelia. She doesn’t know anything about you,” Nyx says as Juni gives a supportive “Yip yip!” next to her. Both are poised to fight, their void essence shimmering as they ready themselves for an attack.

“Come now, Baelia.” Drakara’s cold tone snatches Baelia’s very breath from her once more, and she takes another step. Drakara is still her only option… her only path to be useful again. Her lungs burn as she goes for another step. Without Drakara, she is still nothing after all; she is still useless. She can’t trust her; she knows this… her heart pounds in her chest. But she is still just Baelia, the grey faerie.

“Just breathe,” Luxinia’s hand softly squeezes her own. “Focus on what you can in the moment. Focus on what’s right for you.” Luxinia then lightly cups Baelia’s face in her hands, and she’s finally able to take heaving breaths as tears flow down her cheeks. Baelia had felt hands on her like this just moments ago and almost instantly accepted that she’d never escape them. But this feels different; she doesn’t want to leave these hands, but knowing she can if she chooses to–

She gently grasps Luxinia’s hands from her face and takes them in hers. No push back, no hesitation. Luxinia has nothing but concern and care in her eyes as Baelia turns back to face Drakara’s glare.

Drakara sighs. “How disappointing. I’d hoped to do this the easy way, but no matter. The hard way is just as easy. For me at least.”