The soldiers prepare. They like the iron and the certainty that comes with it, but the fairies get stressed out seeing it everywhere, so I had to eliminate the weapons. Bombardelli was furious, and said he would not let his fortune go under the hammer. The gnome does not like industries, but he loves money. Better, love the jewelry and the idea of having it. I don't understand why. She's a fairy. What are you buying with that? They don't even live in real houses, the mystical places where they stop are temporary and have few buildings. I feel like part of them wouldn't even mind losing it. So I have it to myself that he only likes jewelry and coins because they are shiny and something inside his brain itches with happiness every time he sees one. Either way, I didn't let the iron go to waste. I focused it, using supernatural power, to create a weapon that rivals the pressure of the metals beneath the mantle. I won't touch it for an hour. Doing so is an important symbol, and fairies like what something represents more than what it is. Beasts prefer the act. Pulling a sword is also one. The hero of Justice would not do this for nothing.

  The night is cold and comfortable, and the stars descend from the sky to dance with the Fireflies. I lean on the ledge to see the outside. Some gnomes sleep in the hole they dug in the ground or above the shiny jewels they found. Bombardelli smokes his pipe and swings in the chair next to me, looking satisfied at the result of his new discovery. “There was a source here.” He says.

  “Useless.” The beast-man behind us says. The human lion plays a board game with himself. His fur is golden, his eyes are green, he wears yellow cloth. “We should be on our way to our next opponent. My men will be hurt by all this quiet. They need to bleed.”

  “Your eyes will bleed when I see the beauty of the hole we are going to dig.”

  “You gnomes and your caves… Is that all you think about? Where is the fury of the battle? Why are you still here, fat and drunk?”

  “You wouldn't understand, asshole. I have as much time as I want to come, go, do and don't… You die early, so you won't understand.”

  “Fortunately, we die. I can't imagine how pathetic it would be to have a long, useless life.”

  “It is not uselessness. We're productive. Productive! See how much we earn here!”

  “And everything will be for nothing. Productivity… What's that worth? Only slaves base their lives on productivity.”

  “Enough, you two.” I say. “We have bigger problems than that. Titania's influence took the Second Valley. We need to reorganize and make our ambush against the third before they can unite. The lion will have his fight, and we will use the resources we collect here and there to fight the ill-established base.”

  The lion frowned. “Hm. Why did you suddenly decide that?”

  I breathe in.

  There's something in the wind. Something bad. Some change. My heart races whenever I think. When in Dufae, I thought this feeling was Aldwyn, but I was wrong. He continues. It's something bigger. Worse. But I will not show fear. A hero of Justice does what has to be done, regardless of how he feels. Your men will not accompany you if you feel fear, unless you show them that you have overcome it.

  “Something is coming. We will die if we don't prepare. Send an order to all Animalia, Sato. We'll leave at dawn.”

  I'll leave them behind. They face each other in confusion, but they obey the order. Bombardelli owes me nothing and does not even accept me as an authority, but he is too tired to argue and does not care that I win one time or another if he gets what he wants. Sato, however, is under a pact of honor, and needs to save me from great danger in order to repay her debt for doing the same. Refusing that pact would be an offense to their culture, so I allowed our soldiers to join. I did. None of us can fight the Elves of Titania alone.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  That's a topic for another day.

  Step through the tree house. The wood is firm and furniture is encrusted with jewels that are not really worth something, but hurt my eyes with their vibrant color. It is a gigantic mobile home, a giant sentient store that moves. Bombardelli is the exception among fairies, even over Gnomes. I bathe in one of the nearby ponds, change my clothes and leave Clarent under my pillow. The roof is made of hay this time, enhanced by magic, and the pressure already seems to have worn it down. It's not important. We're not staying here anymore.

  I close my eyes. The images of impaled men always return. Flames and chaos. I haven't stopped fighting since I entered the fairy world. Apparently, a boy with the power of chaos and the Golden hero killed Hilda. At least he's going the right way. I hope he is. There is a possibility that the hero is taking him to his execution. I don't know. It doesn't matter if I do or not.

  Hero of Justice

  Behind the darkness, something stares at me.

  I open my eyes, but I'm not in the cabin. I shake my hands, but I can't do it hard enough. A creature watches me, sitting in the void as night surrounds us. A man—or something like that. His skin is gray, his eyes are golden like hair, but with two deer horns. Butterfly wings, sheep legs, and a mantle of orange leaves. He is tall and slender, and his image looks blurry as if my eyes don't focus right.

  “Who are you…?”

  “It's a pleasure, Mortal.” He says with multiple voices at the same time. “I am Oberon, the Fairy King.”

  “Oberon…?” I frown. “What is sealed?!”

  “Indeed. I sleep fully while sealed in the Yggdrasil to serve as the bones of support the cuts. That's why I communicate through your dream. But that's not important now. I came to warn you.”

  “Warn?”

  “Repeating my words is all you can do?”

  I breathe in. “Very well. What's the warning?”

  “The Golden hero is on his way. He will face a great evil, I bring to the material world from the depths of the mind. He will unite mankind, and he will win. However, there will be a big, big cost. You need to save them from this cost. Stop him. If you don't, the world will suffer.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Do I need a reason not to want the world to suffer? Do you think I sacrificed myself to see my creation destroyed?”

  “… You couldn't help with Hilda, could you?”

  “Dreams I invaded, memories brought and emotions inflamed. I moved those who took her to the abyss. But my influence is limited. You, more than anyone else, should know what it is like to be powerless over your surroundings.”

  “Maybe. I don't trust you.”

  “It shouldn't.”

  “And for what reason does it appear to me? I have nothing to do with the fate of humanity.”

  “I never said it would be about fate. How arrogant. You mortals think too much of yourselves. When will they learn that it's not about you, but what will it be used for? Do you doubt that fate has a power less than yours? Do you think your weakness is greater than the strength of heaven? How silly. No, you will do what you will do because you are you, and if you don't, it wouldn't be.”

  “… What if I don't?”

  “Then you will change.”

  “This doesn't look too bad.”

  “The Golden Hero will be near, to the south, and will deliver mankind from a great evil, and unite mankind, but this will come at a great cost. You will know him. You must prevent this cost. You will act, for you will not let thousands die.”

  “This is impossible. Why are you telling me that?”

  Oberon did not reply. He stares at me, still.

  “Dark times will come. Times of shadows. Times of death.”

  I wake up.

  It's morning. My head hurts. Black birds fly over us, and the weather that should be summer is taken by clouds.

  Something's wrong.

  I take Clarent and put on my silver armor, then go to the parapet of the House.

  Bombardelli stomps his foot and trembles smoking his pipe while inhaling and checking on his gnomes, who prepare to leave in anxious despair. The beastmen are already prepared, and some of them complain about the delay of the fairies.

  “A-ah!” Bombardelli says. “Did you wake up? Good! Good! You know, boy… What do you think of us leaving, huh?”

  “… Did you dream about him too?”

  “He? What he?”

  “Did you dream?”

  “Yes! The report is always the same. They dreamed of crows and a doctor. Someone strange… and mountains of bodies. Dreams mean things, Son. This place is not good. Your strategy will fail. Please reconsider, and let's get out of here.”

  “… Yep. Come on. Never mind. We're not attacking.”

  Bombardelli sighs. “Great. Great. So I recommend it…”

  “South.”

  “What?”

  “We're going south.”