Chapter 1: New World

WARNING: Attention, dear readers! Please proceed with caution, as the content ahead may dive into themes that are quite heavy and unsettling, including suicide, death, and other potentially triggering topics. You have been forewarned.

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"You!" Came a sharp exclamation, causing me to halt in my stride. "Monkey!"

Though my instincts urged me to flinch, I quickly regained control, taking a short inhalation to steady myself. With practiced ease, I composed my posture and masked my emotions, ensuring that my face revealed nothing of the turmoil within.

"Breath and be calm," I silently repeated a mantra that had become my lifeline throughout this night.

Without delay, I turned around to face my adversaries, my eyes meeting theirs with a calculated calmness.

The fae.

Idlying almost ten feet from me, stood three female fae resembling delicate snowdrops in full bloom. Their faces were adorned with features as graceful as the petals of a snowdrop, and their eyes, a mesmerizing shade of icy blue, sparkled with a hint of frost's magic, reflecting the serenity of a winter's dawn. Thin, yet resolute, their pointy ears gracefully mimic the shape of the snowdrop's petals, enhancing their ethereal beauty. Their porcelain complexion, as pure and bright as freshly fallen snow, beautified by a subtle dusting of shimmering frost, softening their features like delicate frost-kissed blossom among lips, tinged with a rosy hue reminiscent of the winter's blush adding a touch of warmth to their otherwise ethereal visage. They each wore gowns of purest white, crafted with exquisite precision to mirror the petals of snowdrops. Intricate lace-like patterns embellish the fabric, resembling the detailed filaments that grace the heart of the flower.

They were in otherworldly lovely but the scary truth of their nature lies beneath their enchanting facade of beauty, a dark and malicious essence. Their beauty acts as a deceptive cloak, luring in those who dare to gaze upon their enchanting visage. With each mesmerizing glance and bewitching smile, they weave intricate spells of manipulation, entangling their victims in a web of deceit.

I could never forget even if I wanted to that within the fae's malevolent presence, beauty becomes a weapon of destruction-a means to manipulate and control.

What beautiful predators they were.

I must tread carefully and guard my every word, for in this realm, even the most innocent-looking creatures could prove to be the most formidable enemies.

Flashing my signature lip-tight smile, a mask I had painfully perfected, I took a step forward. Feigning curiosity. "Did you mean me, milady?" I inquired, my voice carrying a hint of deference.

With an exclamation, the fae in the center of her companions confirmed that she was indeed referring to me—the monkey.

Monkey, they called us. A word meant to demean and degrade. It was one of the many things they called us.

Now, none of it meant anything to me.

The fae's icy blue eyes scanned me from head to toe, and a frown seemed to mar her otherwise exquisite features.

"How may I help you, mildly?" I asked.

In response, the fae gestured a finger towards me, her face contorting with disgust. Her nose and lips twitched as if I were the most repugnant thing in the room. And perhaps, in a room full of fae, I was. Each individual carried with them a combination of intoxicating scents and aromas that resembled a lush garden or a meadow in full bloom.

It was sickening.

"How do you tarry in such..." The fae's voice trailed off as she squinted, attempting to take a closer look at my hair, which I had carefully combed and gathered into a low bun. A look of horror crossed her face, causing her to quickly cover her nose and turn away gaging.

"And...are those strands of grey hairs?!" Exclaimed the other fae, clearly shocked and revolted by the sight. "How many years old are you?!"

Suppressing the urge to scowl, I instead widened my smile so that it almost reached ear-to-ear. How, indeed, do they suppose those grey hairs came to be?

"24," I curtly replied, choosing to answer only one of their questions, the one I deemed worth addressing. "Please, enjoy the ceremony. I must attend to my duties now."

Rule number 3: do not draw attention to yourself by any means.

In an effort to not appear hurried or flustered, I gracefully bent into a bow before turning around to walk away from the three female fae. I knew all too well the capricious nature of their kind, and I had no desire to become the object of their amusement in some twisted game.

Definitely, not tonight.

As I moved away, I maintained an air of calmness and composure, ensuring that my steps were measured and deliberate. I could feel their eyes on me, the weight of their disdain lingering in the air, but I refused to let it affect me. With each step, I reminded myself that my determination and resilience would be my most valuable allies in this hell of a nightmare.

24 or was it?

I'd only guess from fae gossip but if I added up the years correctly, I should be. Uncertained, I settled with what I got.

24.

The once-perfected smile on my face faltered, revealing a glimpse of the exhaustion and weariness that lay beneath.

A rush of emotions seized me.

If I'm right...had it truly been 14 years?

14 long years since the day I had unwittingly stepped foot through the veil, entering this nightmarish realm that I had desperately longed to wake up from.

With a deep inhale, I blinked away the tears that threatened to escape, refusing to let them show as I hurriedly navigated my way through the grand ballroom.

The grand ballroom was nothing less than a piece of art—of winter magic, where reality blurred with dreams of grandeur.

The walls were draped in exquisite gossamer curtains, each panel kissed by frost, creating an ethereal ambiance that seemed to shimmer and sway with an otherworldly glow. These delicate fabrics fluttered gently, as if alive. Surrounding the ballroom on all four sides were massive crystalline windows, intricately etched with elaborate patterns that told stories of old. They framed the scene like portals to a magical winter wonderland, allowing moonlight to stream in and bathe the room in a soft, enchanting light. Each windowpane were depicting the fantastical scenes of fae revelry and snow-capped landscapes, where mythical creatures danced in the moonlight and snowflakes twirled like ballerinas in a timeless ballet.

The artistry was so intricate that it seemed each detail held a life of its own, inviting onlookers to lose themselves in the enchanting narratives woven into the glass.

Suspended from the high ceilings was a magnificent chandelier, a breathtaking focal point crafted from pure, iridescent ice that refracted the light in a dazzling display. It captured the very spirit of winter, its crystalline arms extending outward to every corner like the branches of a frost-laden tree. Soft, twinkling lights sparkled and flickered along the ceiling, casting a warm and inviting glow that danced playfully across the polished floor, illuminating and enchanting the faces of those gathered below.

The grand ballroom was a breathtaking spectacle, a visual symphony that transcended anything I had ever encountered in the mortal world; not that I remembered much from there. But it was, in a way, everything I had ever imagined in my wildest dreams of a winter fantasy. 

But, I had seen beyond their façade. I had peered through their filter of glamour and charm. I had witnessed the darkness that lurked beneath their exteriors so ever-growing numb to their magnificence.

Once again, for the fifth time tonight, I eased myself into a line of human servants, all of us moving in the same hurried direction to a lit corridor that led to the bustling heart of the kitchen.

Before we could see the kitchen ahead, a cacophony of pots and pans clattering against one another to a symphony of chaos, underscored by the sharp, commanding barks of orders that reverberated through the kitchen like a drumbeat could be heard. The air ahead was thick with the mingling scents of roasted meats, fragrant herbs, and the sweetness of baked goods. I could feel the palpable energy in the atmosphere, a blend of urgency and anticipation that permeated the space.

"How can you humans be so slow?!" Barked the head chef, a male fae in a sparkling white attire. He had a curly brown beard adorned with a flurry of snowflakes as if he had just stepped out from a winter's storm. His icy gaze swept over us, a clear warning of the consequences of our incompetence. "Hurry up and grab the finished trays! Bring them out to the ballroom immediately, or His Excellency will have your heads!"

A chorus of "yes, chef!" echoed through the kitchen.

Out of fear, the human servants assigned to cook and prepare delicacies toiled through their duties, driven by a gripping fear that seemed to permeate every corner of the kitchen. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon them, their bodies aching and their minds consumed by weariness. As they worked tirelessly, beads of sweat rolled down their foreheads, the taste carrying the bitter tang of salt. Their lips, dry and parched, quivered in silent desperation for even a sip of water, but there was none to spare. They dashed from one end of the kitchen to another, moving with an unwavering precision and efficiency. Each task executed with a robotic determination, devoid of any hint of human emotions. Like lifeless machines, they labored day and night, avoiding accidents at all costs as if their lives depended on it and it did.

"Someone! I don't care who! Grab this tray and carry it out to His Excellency!" The chef demanded as he held up a golden tray, his irritated gaze shifting over all our faces.

Squirming from the chef's gaze, all came to the same realization. Without a second to lose, they stampeded towards the waiting tables to quickly snatch up the finished trays in hopes of escaping the chef's dire demand.

At least one of them would be the most unfortunate.

My attempts to secure one were in vain. The trays disappeared one by one, leaving me empty-handed.

I watched as the others hurriedly made their way towards the exit, each of them balancing a tray of delicacies in one hand. They moved in a single line, their expressions a mix of relief and urgency.

Left behind in the bustling kitchen, I took a moment to gather myself.

"It's all yours."

Turning my attention back to the chef, I felt a chill run down my spine as his sharp gaze locked onto mine. His eyes gleamed with a twisted amusement, and a sinister smirk spread across his face, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

"It seems you weren't quick enough," he taunted, smiling with those fearful, needle teeth. "Don't fret. You're the lucky one tonight."

Upon the golden tray which he held, sat a crystallined cup and a wine bottle. The cup's form was as delicate and pristine as a crystal snowflake that I feared it would dissolve away. Its stem, slender and graceful, elevated the vessel, which boasted a flawless clarity that captured the essence of exclusiveness. Within its fragile embrace, a mesmerizing spectacle unraveled, as if the secrets of pleasure were contained within. The liquid, a deep and velvety crimson, possessed an elusive depth that hinted at an intoxicating journey into a world of indulgence and pleasure. The wine bottle contains the rest, a shimmering treasure. A precious trademark that I recognized immediately, His Excellency's most prized wine. I heard it had been kept in storage for more than 500 years. It was so valuable that few of us dared to even look at it least it would just outright crack.

I swallowed hard and uprooted my feet towards the temptation that sat on top of the golden tray almost hypnotically. Reaching out, I took the it off the chef's hands.

"Bring it directly into His Excellency's hands." He spoke in a hush, almost daring.

"Y-yes, chef."