The Fate of Valeane

     Then there came the bright pink and purple flashes, like fireworks erupting all around the square as the Faerieland Army teleported in. The standing army of Faerieland was comprised mostly of Neopets, with the odd Faerie high in the ranks, but all were highly trained and proficient in at least some form of basic magic.

     They converged in their prink pink armour on the town square at the heart of Illmoor. Aethia stood at their head, her twin swords unsheathed and ready. Word of the invaders must have spread quickly underground, as within moments the townsfolk spilt out from the ruined homes lining the square. Most were armed with makeshift weapons like rakes and poles, but even such things can prove dangerous if the wielder is committed. And even worse in numbers.

     The two forces clashed in battle, the Illmoor folk throwing themselves against the Faerieland army in more of a trance than anything else, as if they were being compelled by some darker force to defend the place. The Faerieland soldiers would be able to take them with little issue, Aethia was sure.

     But Illmoor had more horrors to throw their way.

     From deeper in the honeycomb of tunnels below the town, low unearthly bellows began to ring out. Great black Blobikins, easily the size of large Skeiths, emerged out into the battle. The Petpets seemed employed for some dark purpose below ground that Aethia thought might relate to the strange black stained skin many of the townsfolk had, but they joined the fray, launching themselves at the Faerieland army and emulsifying them. Behind them came darker forces still. Mutated creatures that looked to have been once Kaus, but now looked closer to the twisted creations of Dr. Sloth. There were dark, horrible versions of the Neopets that swam on the ocean floor near Maraqua. A terrible ecosystem that stretched far down below the town proper now reared its head towards the invaders.

     But the army was not alone.

     Separately from the main force, Isobel and agents she had curated over the years teleported into the side streets. Cloaked in darkness, with the fog masking them and the cacophony battle providing a passable distraction, they managed to sneak around the edges of the town square towards the temple of Bal’Gammaron and, with any luck, the passages that would hopefully lead to the portal below the fountain.

     They breached the doors without incident, but inside they found more of the Illmoor folk waiting, with the Gelert priest at their head.

     Whatever confidence Isobel might have had about their lack of magical abilities quickly evaporated, when the Gelert launched a blast of black magic at them. It was unlike anything Isobel had ever felt before, and while there was undeniably the feel of magic about it, it felt entirely wrong and unnatural in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Isobel and her agents scattered, as they knew to do, dividing targets to make them harder to hit.

     They all had their orders. The battle was a distraction from their task - finding the portal. Nothing else mattered. Isobel managed to get down into the lower floors, and the carefully constructed masonry quickly gave way to roughly and crudely hewn passages. Isobel felt the pressure of other townsfolk following her down the stairs, and ventured down the passageways to get away from them. She tried to press her way back towards the town square but at every turn found her way blocked. It was as if, despite the rest of the town being honeycombed with the passages, they all avoided the area directly below the fountain.

     Isobel reached out to Fyora with her mind. She hoped the Queen could sense her.

     No way through underground. Must go down from the surface.

     She felt the warm sensation of Fyora’s response, and then gave the signal for her agents to retreat back to the square. There was nothing down there for them except death.

     Up in the square, Fyora responded to Isobel’s message. She was, after all, the option of last resort. She teleported into the square like a pillar of pink light, forcing back the fog and revealing the chaos of the scene to everyone. The Faerieland soldiers closed ranks immediately to force the Illmoor defenders back, giving the Queen space to work.

     Fyora floated up into the air and aimed a blast of her pink magic directly down at the fountain which levelled it entirely. When the dust of the masonry cleared, where the fountain had been there was instead a sheer drop into an endless black abyss. Though even without seeing, Fyora could sense that there was something down there. A powerful, malevolent force. Bal’Gammaron. She understood at once, the fountain was the portal.

     The Illmoor folk clearly sensed the danger their master was in. They redoubled their efforts to push back the Faerieland soldiers. Above, Fyora called out with all her psychic strength.

     Semperia!

     The Dimensional Faerie unfolded in the air before her, appearing out of nowhere but more insinuating herself into the universe than any kind of teleportation. She looked as cruel as ever as she took in the scene, and the gaping black maw below.

     “Good,” she said. “It isn’t too late. Bal’Gammaron has not yet breached the portal.”

     “You can close it?” Fyora asked.

     “I should be able to,” Semperia answered. “Out this far, it should have closed naturally over time. These people must have been intentionally keeping it open. It will take time though, with a breach this size.”

     Fyora nodded.

     “We need time!” she shouted down to the forces below. “Clear the way!”

     She soared down into the battle and joined the fray as the Faerieland soldiers rallied to push back their opponents.

     Aethia locked eyes with Fyora.

     “What about Valeane?” she asked as she forced back a Grarrl with a blast of magic.

     “The priority is closing the portal, Aethia,” Fyora replied. “She would understand.”

     “No, we have to save her!” Aethia shouted. “We came all this way for her! We can save her, we have to try!”

     Fyora’s face was resolute.

     “Then I’m sorry,” Aethia added.

     With that, she leapt off the precipice and down into the abyss below.

     “No!” Fyora shouted after her.

     Aethia tumbled down through the darkness for what felt like an eternity, her body stretched and pulled in a million different directions at once. She emerged into a gulf in the darkness, where she flew on between twin oceans of putrid green water that flowed above and below her. Ahead of her was a point in the far darkness that she was being drawn to. She could sense that the oceans were becoming volatile. Semperia’s magic was destabilising the place. Aethia wouldn’t have long.

     She came to the point in the darkness and found herself on an infinitely long beach that bordered one of the boiling green oceans. Each grain of sand was fractal in nature and utterly beyond the definitions of mathematics. There was a temple risen in the water carved from the same strange stone that Isobel had described the bust of Bal’Gammaron back in Illmoor. In front of it, thrashing in the waves, was Bal’Gammaron himself. Every bit as accurate as Isobel’s description, but titanic in size.

     And there, on the beach in front of her, sword in hand, was Valeane.

     Aethia could have fallen to her knees in relief if the situation was any different.

     “Valeane!” she called out.

     The elder Faerie turned. Like Aethia, her wings and hair were purple, but she wore armour from a different age. Her face was marred by deep scars that ran diagonally across it.

     “Aethia?” she said with a frown.

     “I’ve come to rescue you,” Aethia said. “We have to go, now. Semperia is closing the portal. We got your message.

     Valeane smiled with relief, but turned as she did so to slice down towards the waves. Aethia saw at once that Bal’Gammaron was not passively waiting in the bay. Great tentacles were thrashing at Valeane and the elder Battle Faerie was cutting them with her blade.

     “Thank you for coming,” she said with genuine gratitude. “But things have progressed since I sent my message. Bal’Gammaron has grown stronger. He knows the time is near for him to stride through the portal. If I leave here now, even for a moment, Bal’Gammaron will be able to follow. I cannot come with you, Aethia. Return to Neopia. Tell the Queen to forget about me.”

     “No!” Aethia shouted, drawing her twin swords and casting the magic to wake them, one laced with fire and the other ice. “I can’t leave you! Not after all this time, Valeane!”

     She leapt forward and joined her in cutting away at the tentacles, her twin blades slicing through the terrible appendages like butter. Valeane noticed and smiled.

     “The riddle of the swords,” she said. “You solved it! I knew you would, Aethia. I knew you were worthy!”

     Bal’Gammaron roared in a language that defied causality. He moved closer to the shore and the portal, throwing up greater waves of the vile green sea.

     “I followed your example, always,” Aethia said with another slice. “I can’t leave you here, Valeane. I won’t.”

     Bal’Gammaron took another great stride towards the shore, unfurling its leathery wings.

     “I know,” Valeane agreed. “So I can’t give you that choice. Goodbye, Aethia. And thank you.”

     She charged a blast of magic that caught Aethia off guard and sent her flying back through the portal. With a sad smile in the direction she had sent her successor, she turned and readied her blade once more, before launching herself off the beach and flying upwards into the oncoming maw of the beast.

     Aethia was thrown back through the twin green seas at an overwhelming speed. The waters were positively violent by that point, and Aethia knew it would not be long until Semperia completed her work.

     The Battle Faerie was spat back out of the abyss where the fountain in Illmoor had been and landed roughly on the cobbles. The battle was still raging around her. Fyora shot her a gladdened look before she realised that Valeane had not followed her. She understood what that meant.

     “Semperia!” she called upwards. “Close it! Close it now!”

     “I am trying!” the Dimensional Faerie shot back.

     The Faerie was reaching the apex of her magic, and the ground below the square began to tremble. It was followed by a terrible, sickening roar from the depths that Aethia recognised as that of Bal’Gammaron. But then there was a sudden flash of the same green as the terrible twin oceans, and the earth around the abyss began to cave in on itself, filling the hole entirely.

     The Illmoor locals ceased all attempts at fighting at once. Most writhed in both physical and mental pain, cut off from the influence of their profane master for the first time in their lives. The Blobikins and several of the more horribly mutated and deformed creatures melted where they were. Others fled down into the tunnels below the town to try and survive in whatever darkness they could find.

     The Faerieland army was left alone on the surface. The remains of the oppressive fog seemed to be evaporating, letting the sun shine on the town for the first time in what may have been generations. Aethia could feel it, or rather couldn’t. The menacing presence that had permeated the air of Illmoor was gone. Bal’Gammaron’s influence had been completely severed. The portal was closed.

     And Valeane was gone.

     Up in the air, Semperia nodded confidently and gave a small nod to Fyora, before folding herself up again and disappearing back into whatever gulf between realities she had arrived from.

     “Is it over?” Isobel asked, coming over to Fyora and Aethia.

     The Faerie Queen nodded.

     “Valeane was there,” Aethia said, still not getting to her feet. “She threw me back. She stayed to face the beast and buy us all time.”

     Fyora gave a sad smile.

     “Exactly the sort of thing she does,” she said. “Ever the brave. Ever putting herself between a threat and the vulnerable.”

     “If she faced Bal’Gammaron then she is gone,” Isobel said gravely.

     “The death of a Faerie is a terrible thing,” Fyora intoned.

     Aethia nodded her agreement.

     “But if there is anyone who could survive such a thing, it is her,” she said. “Perhaps, somewhere out there, she fights for us still.”

     Isobel knew it was a vain hope, but she did not have the heart to correct the Battle Faerie. Some people found comfort in pleasant lies.

     “Bal’Gammaron is still out there, most likely, too,” she said.

     “Without a doubt,” Aethia said. “But the wizards at the Museum said that when the stars are right, he can stride across worlds, but when the stars are wrong, it cannot even exist.”

     “Then Valeane’s actions have saved us,” Fyora said. “Bal’Gammaron has missed his opportunity, and it may be aeons before he gets another. The time may come again when he will be a threat to Neopia, but we shall be ready to fight again should that happen.”

     It was perhaps Isobel’s nature that stopped her in sharing Fyora’s sentiments. A threat that existed, never mind how remote, was not one to be dismissed. She would have to make sure no more cults grew up in devotion to Bal’Gammaron. Agents would have to be stationed in Illmoor to keep the locals surviving in the tunnels from reorganising. For her, it was far from over. Valeane’s fate, to fight eternally, was in a way the fate of them all. Peace was a constant struggle to keep.

     Still, victories were there to be celebrated. She allowed herself to join in the cheers. For what use is peace if it cannot be enjoyed by those who fight for it?

     The End.