Chapter Eleven: The Feywild

I woke up on damp earth, surrounded by towering trees that twisted unnaturally toward a sky that shimmered like oil on water. The air hummed, thick with magic, clinging to my skin like a second layer.

This wasn't where I had fallen asleep.

I stood, scanning the forest. Nothing was familiar. The trees seemed to watch me, shifting when I wasn't looking. The path ahead glowed faintly, as if the land itself wanted me to walk it.

I had heard stories of places like this—of realms where rules were different, where reality bent like a child's game.

I walked.

The silence was wrong, broken only by the occasional distant laughter—high, airy, too joyful to be real. I gripped my dagger, keeping my footsteps light, my breathing steady.

I needed to understand where I was before I did anything reckless.

Then I saw them.

A humanoid figure, standing in the middle of the path, waiting. Slender, with elongated ears and eyes too bright to be human. They grinned the moment I laid eyes on them, as if they had been expecting me.

"Are you lost?" the creature asked. Their voice was playful, but there was something unnatural about it—like a child pretending to understand concern.

I didn't answer. Words had weight in places like this. Instead, I tilted my head, watching.

They mimicked the movement, giggling.

They weren't smart, but their magic worked all the time. That was the danger.

I let them talk. They would, eventually. Fey loved games, loved attention. And as they prattled on about nonsense, I learned what I needed.

They were all named Yuri.

All except one.

The Chief.

The one who could change the rules.

That was all I needed to know.

The Fey are weak to iron, lucky for me, my dagger was made from iron

The Chief didn't expect me to strike.

Iron met flesh, and in an instant, the world around me recoiled. The fey gasped, their childish grins vanishing as the Chief collapsed, body twitching before going still.

Silence.

I stood over him, blade dripping. The forest itself seemed uncertain now, as if waiting for someone to decide what came next.

I wiped my dagger clean and looked at the others.

"I'm the Chief now."

They didn't protest. They couldn't. The rules had changed, and they obeyed the rules.

Now, I could ask.

I kept my voice calm, steady. "Have you heard of a fire that no magic can control?"

One of them tilted their head. "Fire is funny. It dances. We like it."

Useless.

I tried again. "What about a cure? One that can heal any sickness.

The fey looked at each other, then back at me.

"Cures are just another game," one of them said, smiling as if it were obvious. "We don't play that one."

No answers. No understanding. Just nonsense wrapped in magic.

It didn't matter. I had what I came for.

I turned to them, voice flat. "Show me the way out."

And, bound by their own rules, they did.