The Dark Fairy King
Chapter 75: New Friends and Old Lessons

Chapter 75: New Friends and Old Lessons

"Hurry! It’s time for practice!" a voice called—sharp, urgent.

I blinked up at the ceiling, wincing against the assault of morning light. My limbs felt like they were made of stone, sleep still curled around my bones. As I rubbed my eyes, a familiar blur sharpened—Doverel, looking far too chipper for this hour.

"Sorry for disappearing on you yesterday," she said, a little softer now.

Apologizing already? Suspicious.

I groaned. "What do you want?"

I couldn’t help it. The last thing I needed was another bright-eyed traitor. Not in this dizzying, disorienting new age.

"Just to apologize," Doverel replied, her voice low, earnest. She fidgeted with her hands, unsure.

I sighed and sat up. She had been kind in her own awkward way—and really, she didn’t owe me anything.

"Fine. But hurry. We don’t have all day."

"Come on, grab your wand! We’re going to be late!" she chirped, halfway out the door already.

"I’m not ready..." I muttered, still tangled in the haze of dreams and too many centuries gone.

Doverel paused, glanced back, and flicked her wand. A soft shimmer of light spilled from its tip.

A tingling sensation swept over me. In an instant, my hair was tied, my skin fresh, my body alert. The drowsiness vanished like it had never existed.

I blinked. "Was that Light Magic?"

"Yeah... with a tinge of Love Magic," she said sheepishly, cheeks pink.

"I figured it out myself," she added, lifting her chin a little. "Love Magic is... adhesive. It bonds to other types. If you do it right, it lets you tap into their power—just a little."

She leaned in and pressed a finger to her lips. "Don’t tell anyone."

Doverel. A delightful surprise.

There was something disarming about her—something raw and sincere. And potential. So much of it.

"I won’t," I said, smiling faintly.

Could this be the start of something like friendship? Or was it too early to hope?

Hadn’t I learned my lesson about trusting too easily?

Her eyes lit up. "Thanks." But then her tone dropped. "We need to do as we’re told."

I tilted my head. "This magic of yours... it’s not something you’re told to do, is it?"

She hesitated, then shrugged. "I’m not supposed to use it. But I thought you’d appreciate it."

I shook my head, chuckling. "You’re something else, Doverel. Where did you even get Light Magic?"

She grinned mischievously. "I stole it from the Light Fairies I was supposed to bind together."

I laughed. Loudly.

"What?" she teased. "It was up for grabs."

Then, just as quickly, she stiffened, eyes scanning the practice field ahead. "Come on. Elder Arisa doesn’t have all day."

Wait—Elder Arisa?

The name tugged at memories I’d buried like landmines. She had stood for everything I’d fought against. I remembered her eyes lighting up whenever Baltimore appeared, how she clung to his every word and scroll.

Yes. That name finally clicked.

Junior Arisa?

Fourteen. Wide-eyed. Obsessed with Baltimore. That Arisa?

And now she was a teacher. A symbol of how far things had drifted.

But as Doverel and I walked side by side toward the training grounds, something stirred in me. Something unexpected.

Hope.

Or maybe just the strange comfort of not being completely alone.

Sure, the world had changed without me.

But maybe this time, it wouldn’t get to rewrite me.

Maybe I’d rewrite it first.

Maybe I’d start with Doverel.

If even one person in the Kingdom still saw things the way I did, maybe I didn’t need to burn it all down. Maybe I could rebuild something better.

The rest of the day passed quietly, though the lessons were... insulting.

They began with the basics. What Fairies were.

Yes, yes, Light Fairies glow, they bend light, sparkle in the dark.

Dark Fairies? Obvious—shadow manipulation, energy sapping, destruction.

Love Fairies? We wield enchantments of affection and bonding. Romantic drivel, mostly.

Then came spell drills. With wands.

Syrupy love incantations I knew by heart.

How to cast connection charms.

How to sever bonds between mixed-species fairies.

Apparently, Love Fairies with Dark Fairies were taboo.

Love Fairies with Light Fairies? Controversial.

But Light Fairies with other Light Fairies? Totally fine. Even if they were awful to each other.

The logic was... twisted.

I raised a brow as Arisa droned on.

"What about strife? Communication? Shared experiences? You know—actually building relationships?" I asked, voice calm but edged with disbelief.

Arisa’s eyes narrowed. "Species will die out if you wait for that. This is the only way."

Just like that. No room for dialogue.

I bit my tongue, but Doverel wasn’t done. She raised her hand.

"What if we’re attacked by Dark Fairies?" she asked sweetly.

A girl in a pink ribbon asking about combat? I nearly laughed.

But no one else did.

Arisa replied without blinking, "Work during the day. Stay out of their woods."

Doverel tilted her head. "What if they’re hunting us?"

"Then you’re in the wrong place," Arisa snapped.

Seriously?

Victim-blaming now?

The chill crept back in. I felt something rise in my chest—defiance, maybe.

"What if we learned offensive magic?" I asked, casual in tone but not in intent.

Arisa turned slowly. "Offensive Love Magic?" she echoed, almost disgusted.

"Yeah. Like making an enemy fall in love with their reflection. Distract them, protect ourselves—whatever."

Her face twisted. "That’s an abomination. Love Magic is pure. It’s for bonding. Romance is used only for preventing extinction. Anything else is corruption."

"If you’re in danger," she added, "you’ve already strayed too far."

Silence.

A cold one.

I glanced at Doverel. She looked as stunned as I felt.

"Now," Arisa continued, "you are ready. You have one month to create couples. Humans. Fairies. Even animals. You’ll be graded accordingly."

I blinked. Wait—what?

"One lesson and now we’re playing matchmaker?" I muttered.

"No practice?" Doverel asked.

"No," Arisa said flatly. "Best performers are rewarded. Worst are punished. Do as you are told."

There it was again. That phrase.

Do as you are told.

I felt the words coil like barbed wire around my ribs.

"This isn’t matchmaking," I whispered to Doverel. "This is obedience. Control. Compliance, wrapped in lace."

Doverel exhaled, frustration on her face. "Apparently, we’re ready. After just one lesson."

I smirked.

Yeah. She gets it.