Bug

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King—"Bug" he/him fae unlabeled

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Rushing to the lair exit, Aarakra scooped Bug into her mouth and looked back at the feral-eyed Fae closing in behind her as her heart pounded two thousand times a minute. Being so large, he really wasn't a threat to her. He was a threat to Bug. Aarakra shot a bolt of energy near him, hoping to only slow him down. He fell to the ground with a loud thump and rolled into the dirt. The Fae disappeared in the dust, out of view. Quickly, she escaped while he was down.

This wasn’t the him she knew. Shivak was a stern and very determined Fae, but he had never shown that look before. Eyes clouded with something Aarakra could never understand. Why was he so dead-set on this? Shivak was quiet, secretive, and sly; and he never spoke about himself or his past. But this was a totally different dragon. Not the one she liked to think she grew up with.

Aarakra’s wings became heavy. She scouted for somewhere to land after flying for miles upon miles outside the Nature borders. She had never traveled this far on her own, or with anyone else. Even still, she knew where she was. Gargantuan glimmering crystals, enormous pastel trees, bountiful broad buildings with technology far advanced from her own. If not for the circumstances, she could’ve found herself rolling her eyes to the back of her head. (Or maybe even admiring it just a bit.) Staying low, a couple feet above the strange foreign trees, she slowed her freckled wings and landed in a clear patch between the foliage and a shallow pond. Bug’s frail limbs were shaking; frozen from shock, or heartbreak. Or both.

“I’m sorry... I... I don’t know how to help you. But, you can’t stay. I’m so sorry. You’ll be safe here. I know I’ve said... not so nice things about arcaniacs, but it’s the only place Shiv won’t look... other than Plague territories. I’ll stay with you till morning before heading back.”

“Will I be okay?...”

Aarakra hesitated before she let a somber breath out. She looked away from him for a while before closing her eyes and drifting asleep.




He wasn’t born in this forest. And it was nothing like home; if he could even call it that.

He was born into a cold, starving world. But this was worse.




His body felt insignificant: as a blade of grass to the mother.
His eyes were fixated on the trees. But he couldn’t find himself looking up.
His eyes were closed but he could see.
He could see everything, yet feel nothing.
And his fingers were frozen but he could feel.
His emotions were trapped but by the glade he could feel.
He could feel too much. It was all too much.
Like his universe was swirling in spirals and into tesseracts.
Like everything was moving but nothing was really moving.
And it was so hot.

The rumors were true about this place.




“At least He doesn’t make false promises.”

Vilnia smiled, “That’s where you’re wrong,” she folded her hands behind her back, leaning in to level her eyes with his, “The Gladekeeper never makes promises.”




As if their conversation never happened, he found himself back where he was. In the dark. In the cold. And hungry. His stomach roared but he felt like he was going to puke. He felt shivers forming all over. And not just from the cold. Actually, he felt hot. So hot he was sweating. But he was frozen solid. Like the Icewarden was quarreling with the Flamecaller beside him. And it was only a matter of time before the creatures of the night claimed his life. And yet he hadn’t blinked. Not once. The adrenaline was coursing though him, hyper eyes rapidly changing direction in hopes of preparing for escape in case of attack.

Aarakra claimed to have spared him, but is death really worse than Hell?

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Art by Cordially

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• Bug has horrible panic attacks.
• He has a strong connection to the Arcanist.
• He's the only living Fae son of Shivak.

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