Prelude of Night // Eukor.
An enormous black spire scraped holes in the sky of a lonely forest. You could say it cast a great shadow, but this thing was more of a shadow than the jagged lines the trees cast down from the pregnant moon above. The black mass was even rendered more bizarre with its intricate designs of strange folk with wings on their heads or backs and creatures whose bodies were made of stone or water. Stories told themselves if you could lay the spire on its side and walk it from tip to root. Stories never meant to be heard nor read, but, like a good book, they too were leaked out into the poor, unsuspecting world of man. Looking up at the large atrocity, you would find no door nor window or any other way to enter. Only its enormous presence. Atop the tower was a large bell-house that extended beyond the more slender rotunda of the thing. This was the only place void of these strange carvings. Instead it was in the shape of an unblossomed flower, a tulip or rose perhaps, just as dark and colorless as the rest of itself. From within the tower's petals shone a vibrantly red light and a chilling bell could be heard.
"Muladh egnis... Matadh veldis... Yeldis maklovae."
"Muladh egnis. Matadh veldis. Yeldis maklovae."
"Muladhion tyumaera adon anon pitae."
Said a voice in the darkness, swinging a goblet filled with what looked like burning stones. Smoke billowing out of the goblet, its robed carrier pulled out a fist full of the burning stuff and spread it all around the floor of the large chamber. A dark red light swelled from the center of the room, the source of the chiming was a mystery. The cloaked figure repeated the cursed words faster and faster before finally emptying out the rest of the embers. Holding arms wide, the wizard or witch dropped to their knees mumbling a slightly different set of magic words.
"Shen wou mat iet okkha nien ya chan yelo. Lore jistun uipsa rab alamath." The words flowed so smoothly, almost as if they could have been a single incredibly long word.
"Shennomattiet okkhanienya chanyelo." A high pitched ringing broke out as the spell was completed a second time.
"Shennomattietokkhanienyachanyelo." The spell was a single word.
Faster and faster the words spilled out of a crooked grin, tears rolled down the mage's gray skin as the ashes around the room lost their heat and began to emit a green, orcish glow. Wind picked up the ashes from the floor; breaking and becoming a horrible cloud of dust that seemed to settle just below the curved ceilings. The once red light now had turned a deep violet, the invisible bell's chiming was replaced with the eerie wail of a horse. Within the light, the image of a single golden horse could be seen with a flat, sword-like, platinum horn. Dark crimson blood trickled down the horse's face and enormous jaw. Its black mane was wound in thousands of the tiniest braids that trailed off the image of light, almost as if they were in front of the light as opposed to being a part of it. Its eyes were void of anything, black as the tower, as shadowy as the cloak of the magic bearer. Staring at the hooded figure, not a voice was spoken, but a voice was heard nonetheless.
"Why 'ave v'you called d'upon Joliath?"
The hooded figure stood, hanging it's head low as to be concealed from the light.
"To take the... Soul..." The mage let out a quivering sigh. "The Soul of all that is unnatural - Magic and all o-."
Before the summoner could finish his words, the phantom horse let out another ghostly whine and the purple light holding its figure went out, the unicorn was materialized and was much larger now physical. Its presence was powerful, breathtaking and almost impossible to imagine. It stood well above a dozen feet , it's horn just inches away from the low curve of the ceiling. The golden Clydesdale unicorn bowed to look its summoner in the eyes.
"An' so the Soul l'of Magic k'is yours. Which ch'is s'easy enough for you." It began to count with its hind leg, with each clop of its hoof, the ground vibrated and began to glow vibrant and white.
The tower disappeared from the realm of man, just as it had appeared, without a trace other than the overturned earth from beneath its base.
The Tower of Tales // Naditorae Palafth Uok'ko
The ground shimmered with the glittery pollen shed from the beautiful orchids hanging among the vines in the maple trees above. Grass swayed this way and that as sprites twirled and danced the wind away. They were tiny little things, only about six inches tall, like little humans. The sprites glowed many vibrant colors leaving behind warms sparks of light wherever they flew or landed. Mouths so tiny that only they understand each other without being halfway in your ear as they only speak in whispers. Perfectly ageless, no one knows how or why a sprite is born, but there they are. You'd never see an old one or a young one, just about the age before their body would start to show the slightest bit of age. Many of them were harmless, however they can and do swarm, almost like birds or bees, each of them, group or alone, is totally unique. Tiny high-pitched songs escaped their little chests as they held hands and spun each other upwards a mountain. A troupe of Centaur women were pulling vines off from the treetops to stock for winding or braiding into their clothes. Two fairy folk, one a Seelie butterfly and the other an Unseelie beetle held hands as they laid on the forest floor atop a soft mat of the largest leafs. More tiny sprites joined on with their dance on a particular wisp of wind. Their sparks were little diamonds of every color you could imagine. Leading them was a particularly small one clad in all silver and leaving a trail just as vibrant as chrome behind. A long baton spun around in his hand as he twisted this way and that, looped and spun around just before coming to a complete stop.
His companions, following his every move, stopped just as he did. A rather large lady of the sprites, however, had a little too much momentum and whirled past the group. But just as she did stop, a look of horror shown upon her once smiling face. Her yellow glow was being pulled off of her, sinking through her back and towards a large black nothingness. The dying sprite opened her mouth, and, without a breath, let out the most bone chilling of screams. One that curdled in the back of her throat with the strength of a normal human or more. For good reason too, her skin was suddenly pulled tight, her large dandelion dress caught aflame as it shrunk too. Her brown hair in an intricate bun fell off along with her scalp all at once. Her friends floated there looking at their dying companion. A man with a blue glow, clothes, and hair zipped over. Just before an invisible force-field he knew was there. A single violet tear curled down his face, he held his hand up just as his corpse of a lover was sucked into the strange black hole behind her. After a moment, the darkness grew immensely and inhaled the blue man as well. The same fate befell him and he was quickly sucked up as well. The little people gasped with horror and flew away immediately, the silver man in lead again. They were a rainbow arc across the sky being led by a single cloud.
The dozen or so of them landed on the windowsill of a large castle tower and in through an open window and crashed into themselves creating a small mushroom cloud of glitter and sparks. In the room was a tall fairy, clearly of Seelie nature. His hair was made of thick brown feathers which became paler and paler as they reached his nape. Dark golden skin adorned with golden tattoos tAhat curled upwards towards his shoulders and fell down his arms. He was what some fairies would call any'orl'aa or skyclad; just enough to fly in. He was wearing a large brown belt which held onto a short golden tunic's skirt, almost as chrome-like as the sprite. On his chest he wore a classic garment named a veddiout't, a large piece of fabric with a slit for his head. The back covered the tops of his shoulders and fell down in a single braid down his back as it was actually three pieces woven together. It too was dark ebony brown and made of very heavy wool that was basket woven into itself. Beneath it hung a shimmering soft cover of the similar gold fabric. His feet had no shoes on, but pieces of several pieces of rock slabs that shifted around each other while keeping their bearer steady. He turned around from the large mirror before him, revealing a handsome face with large brown eyes peppered with golden flecks.
Bending down to the sprites, Ihnam, the fairy, spoke to them; "Children, what is wrong?" He spoke in the Unseelie tongue to them. Most fairies know both as many are born speaking already. However, other creatures, like sprites, hobgobs, even goblins don't always understand both.
The silver man pushed an arm bearing his baton out of the pile and shouted as loud as he could, "Darkness! Ate Aaou! Tuhiet!" atop the pile of groaning sprites.
"Well they certainly aren't here, but are you sure you didn't just, lose them? Really Banta?" He spoke so coolly as if nothing was really the matter.
Banta, 'the silver one,' shook his head and waved his baton in the air. Silver sparks spouted from it like a fountain but hung in a large cloud instead of disappearing. The cloud shown within itself images of what the sprites had seen. Aaou, the yellow lady, her flesh being pulled so tight as she was sucked into the well of darkness, followed by its growth, and the inevitable death of Tuhiet. One thing Banta couldn't recreate was the sound of the whole event.
"Banta... Things die, it's okay, you'll see them again, you know that." Ihnam (een-nahm) shook his feathery head and stood up straight turning back to his mirror and desk which held various creams, colored dyes, feathers and other sorts of things. He picked up two wooden bracelets in each hand. Just as they were forming around his wrist, Banta buzzed over to the fairy. He was about to cast magic into the downy feathers of his eyebrows when the silver sprite twisted up to him in a flash of silver sparks and demanded his ear. He fluttered around bowed slightly into Ihnam's elf-like ear and whispered.
"She screamed like the banshee." At this Ihnam froze and the sprite fluttered back to his colorful companions. They nodded their heads in agreement, hands tucked safely behind their backs. The owl-esque man turned around, his right eyebrow arched in a pure state of puzzlement. Quickly he beckoned the sprites towards the windowsill and gave them very specific instructions.
"Malim," a tall sprite who fancied the color violet, "go find the princess of the Seelie court, she'll be in the garden. Tell her what you told me." He saluted and disappeared like a fly out - well - a window. One by one they spun off in their different directions, save for Banta. He hovered just outside the window and Ihnam hoisted himself up and dropped off the edge of the building bursting off into the sky, large brown and golden wings sprung from his back. His feathers moved more mystically than his sandals, forming a large eye on the bottoms of each wing which spread at least six feet on either side, much larger than his 5'5" and slender frame.