Hellion's Reckoning

Among his twenty-five followers, seven refused to attend a Hellion festival. Ruvyn, Elara, and Ashryn had all agreed to accompany him. The ones who joined him clad themselves in rugged animal skins, with a few even adorning their heads with twisted horns and enchanting their eyes with otherworldly glows. This last trial allowed Inias to sift out those among his group who would not stand against the king. Whatever their motives may have been, he could not have them as his protectors any longer.

Inias turned to those seven who refused and flared his eyes. “If any of you wish to join the Magistrate, you may,” he told them, hoisting himself upon Fievel’s back. “But all of you, be gone before I return.” It was their one and only warning. He would’ve killed them to avoid future trouble, but it didn’t feel right. Keira had agreed to send a party of knights to his camp to ensure they left. No more secrets, that’s what he’d promised. Inias may not have trusted Lord Varen, but he would share his plans with Keira.

Ivaran would likely have learned of Inias’ actions by now. There was no hiding his feelings towards the Magistrate, now was the time to cut those loyal to the purists loose. Eighteen remained. He was lucky to have that many. They had seen the Magistrate’s evil and agreed to stand in solidarity with their fellow fae.

“It’s not enough,” Elara whispered beside Inias, concern heavy in her voice as she glanced back at the dwindling troop. “The Magistrate has an army.”

Ruvyn rode up on his gray stallion, his face set in a grim expression, as Ashryn galloped out ahead on her sleek black mare. “He’s a damn usurper,” Ruvyn growled, his voice edged with bitterness. “Capitalizing on the Rouan’s betrayal to snatch their city. We’ve been asking around — some folks aren’t too pleased with his rule.”

There were likely some in the city who despised Ailog, even among his soldiers. It still wasn’t enough to turn the tide. He would need to gather as many hellions as possible before his uncle or the magistrate discovered it.

“What do they say of him?” Elara asked, looking around Inias to Ruvyn. “There are whispers among the people,” Ruvyn continued as he met Elara’s gaze, “They see him for what he truly is - a bitter, licentious man hiding behind false heroism.”

Inias turned to Ruvyn, sensing the urgency in his words. “Would they be willing to turn?”

“Some maybe, but the Hellion stigma is strongest in Dusk Haven,” Ruvyn shook his head solemnly. “If he puts enough strain on the people, they’ll do our work for us!” Ashryn offered, turning her head.

“It has to be one of us, a Hellion,” Inias said, petting Styx as the wolf lay curled up in front of him, flashing one of his fangs. If they could deliver a critical blow to the Purist cause, other hellions would rally to join them. “We can’t touch him while he’s safe in the city,” Elara added, looking at the torchlights gathering in the forest glade ahead of them.

“So, we lure him out, the man’s a dog,” Ashryn said quietly as they approached the growing crowd. “Throw a bone and he’ll chase it.”

It seemed to be their only option; there wasn’t time to wait for another to present itself.

As the group approached the forest clearing where the Ravenmoon clan was hosting the festival, the air was alive with excitement. The sound of drums and flutes filled the air, blending harmoniously with the laughter and chatter of the fae gathered for the celebration. Colorful lanterns hung from the trees, casting a warm, inviting glow over the glade. Exotic fruits, savory meats, and delicate pastries adorned the long tables, creating a feast fit for kings that the fae gathered for the celebration enjoyed. The scent of roasted meats and sweet wine wafted through the air, tantalizing the senses.

When Keira had told him of a sacrifice, he expected some solemn religious ceremony while they waited for the stars to pass. A great purple flame sat at the center of the glade where creatures of all kinds had gathered to dance. Many had horns and otherworldly eyes, but others had goats’ hooves and tails. Satyr’s, nymphs, spriggan’s, and various goblins had all come to celebrate.

“Are they all Hellions?” Inias asked as he slipped off Fievel to greet Keira and her father. “No, but they’ve experienced the purist’s injustices, just like us,” someone said from behind him. Inias grinned and turned to find Vestin wearing the coat of a large bear. “Hey!” He said, “Where have you been hiding?”

As Inias’ troop disappeared into the crowd, Keira wrapped him in a hug. “He’s the heir, he stays with father.” Keira answered and squeaked when her brother’s enormous arms came around them both. “Not for long,” Vestin said, casting a glance at Lord Varen. “I’m going back with them tonight.”

“Wait, do I get a say in this?” Inias asked, crossing his arms over the open leather vest he wore. He fixed a demon mask upon his mask, little horns peeking out in the front and a long-pointed nose hanging over his own. “We didn’t think you’d mind,” Vestin said as Keira returned in a long blue skirt resting just above her ankles. A purple sash covered her chest adorned with glitter and upon her head sat a floral crown of black and red roses. An inked raven spread its wings above her bare stomach, shimmering in the moonlight. “It’s our best chance, right dad?” she said, turning to her father, who nodded begrudgingly.

“Like old times!” Inias said, clapping Vestin on the back. “And just like old times I’d enjoy a dance, Ruvyn?” Ashryn approached them as Ruvyn turned with a wild grin when he beheld her fire red gown. The horns on her head were those of the demon Ifrit. He took Ashryn’s hand and spun her around as Keira claimed Inias’ arm.