The Dark Fairy King

I woke to warmth that didn’t belong to me.

A blanket was tucked around my chest—soft, unfamiliar. My fingers curled around the fabric instinctively as I blinked against the daylight leaking through the cracked stone walls.

When had I fallen asleep?

And more importantly—who had done this?

The answer arrived before I needed to ask.

Scarlette.

The thought settled like a rock in my chest. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. She stood a few feet away, already awake, her attention fixed on the orb floating above her hand like a second sun.

Had she even slept?

"Good. The spell is working," she murmured to herself, tone light, almost amused.

Red mist curled from her palm, entwining with the golden magic encircling the orb. The colors spiraled like smoke—thick, vivid, alive. They pulsed in tandem, as if breathing together.

I couldn’t look away.

Then her voice sharpened. "Alright, Veravos. I’ll need your dark magic later."