The Demon King approaches with calculated movements, each done purposefully to unsettle all those around him, and it works. The crowd parts. Silver armor adorns the tips of his twisted black horns, talons, and clawed wings. The deep violet of his eyes have darkened, narrowed into threatening slits that scan the room. His black attire holds tight to his muscled form, as dark as his ebony hair that’s pulled into a tight ponytail. When his wings open wide, they frighten the onlookers, who stumble away. Mana ripples along the tips of his fingers, a violet haze that trails behind every step. The pressure of his power alone hangs over the room, enveloping all in a chilling wave. There’s something about the way he moves that speaks volumes; should anyone make the wrong move, they’re dead.

The solemn expression he wore when we met is replaced with a permanent annoyed scowl. The only emotion seen or felt is utter hatred. If this is the man soldiers faced then I understand the tales, why they feared him, and how he earned his title. He may not be an actual king, but he has the presence of one.

Behind him, about a half a dozen other fairies follow, four of whom are warriors dressed similarly. They don’t need weaponry because they have their magic. Unlike humans, magic is taught to all in Fateir as soon as they’re able. They’re accustomed to the costs, know their limits, and yet our kings wonder why we’ve never beat them.

However, one of the fairies garners my attention. Her familiar strawberry hair flutters behind her along with the trails of a white dress; Briny. She’s alive and well, same as my family. I should have assumed she’d be here. She told me she worked for Maven as an interpreter, seeing as she could read, write, and fluently speak 15 languages. I was so focused on my mission that I didn’t consider what to do should I run into her, or anyone else for that matter.

My chest aches. Memories resurface. Meeting friends, who now have no idea who I am. Making it to the castle. Failing them. Feeling her blood. Hearing her final breath. Losing all of them.

I can’t breathe. I want to scream. I want to apologize. I want to lock these memories away in a box and bury them to never be heard of again.

During my shock, the public has forgotten their fear of the Demon King. They surge towards him, everyone trying to have their moment to speak with him. Even if he frightens, he also fascinates. When I try to get closer, my gaze catches pink in the corner of my eye. Briny moves through the crowd, smiling as sweetly as ever. Bracelets made of white flowers encircle her wrists, as fresh as if they were picked mere seconds ago. She’s on a course to walk right by me, but I avoid her. I’m not entirely sure why.

Perhaps she’ll recognize me, but I don’t know if I want her to. If she does, what would she say? Would she be disappointed? Would she remember what happened? Because I don’t want her to. 

Maybe I am a little grateful that only I remember so far. I don’t want others to remember that horror, and I don’t want them to go through it again.

Briny heads for the refreshment tables. Once she’s out of my view, I return to the task at hand. I need to speak with Maven before she returns. I don’t know if I’ll withstand speaking with him when she’s around. It’s strange to think that, for me, they all died only three days ago. So much has happened since then that I hardly believe such little time has passed.

Many have gotten closer to Maven, but there aren’t nearly as many interacting with him. His entourage has taken a few steps back, giving him privacy to speak with some party goers that are shaking in their boots. A decade ago, I wouldn’t have been much different, but now, the initial shock of his appearance has diminished. I’ve been in the sights of far worse, or rather what I fear to be worse than him. This is nothing. The only worry I have now is that he won’t recognize me, that I won’t be able to speak with him of the future either.

I inch closer, waiting, watching, until they finally excuse themselves and I rush forward before anyone else can. “Lord Athik,” I call, standing tall beneath his cold gaze.

“Do I know you, Miss?” he asks, looking at me with a face of apathy, and a voice of utter disinterest.

“My name is Aster Valmar,” I say, hoping that will somehow change anything, but all he does is wait for me to continue.

“We’ve me—I, uh—” the truth catches in my throat once more. Even with Maven, I cannot tell him about the future. As I feared, I am alone, and my only choice is to discover a way to work for Valerie.

Maven turns away. “If you will excuse me, I must go find my partner.”

Panic rises within me, along with desperation. Give me another moment. Maybe I can cast some sort of memory spell? I don’t know, but I have to try. This would be so much easier if he somehow knew of the future too!

“Wait—” I call, only to be interrupted.

“Valerie is right here, Lord Athik,” Dalion says, appearing among the crowd with Valerie on his arm.