Blessing: Part Four

     "Mi Toria," Fyora said, sadness immediately evident in her tone. Her regal countenance was suddenly stricken with grief. She knew that the Miamouse would not have returned without Yailwin unless the Air Faerie had met a bitter end. "And who is this that you have brought into my house?"

     Allara stared blankly at the most powerful ruler in Neopia. Her mouth hung agape as she shrank away, awestruck by the magnificence of the being that stood before her.

     "This is Allara," Mi Toria responded, indicating that Allara should step forward. When no movement was forthcoming however, she added, "she battled Bayoragan before my very eyes and lives to tell the tale."

     Fyora's expression softened somewhat at that. "Is this true, Allara?"

     The Acara knew she was being spoken to, yet it still took all of her willpower to shake away the amazement that had temporarily rendered her immobile and inaudible.

     "Ye-yes," she croaked at long last. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Fyora!"

     "The pleasure is mine," Fyora purred soothingly, trying to calm the overly excited youth. "So, Bayoragan attacked you and she has already bested Yailwin. She must be gaining power. It will not be long before that tainted demon makes her move against Faerieland. We must quickly plan for such an attack."

     *****

     If only Fyora had known just how close Bayoragan was to her precious kingdom of Faerieland. The Fallen Faerie alighted weightlessly at the borders of the cloud that buoyed Faerieland above the rest of the Neopia and quickly made her way towards Faerie City.

     Her powers had grown tenfold since her encounter with the pathetic Acara whelp. She would make sure that the pathetic Neopian suffered a terrible fate before she, the great Bayoragan, ended Fyora's rule.

     A wicked smile crossed her face at that thought, causing the fires in her eyes to burst to life. The Queen of Faeries would soon bow before the power of Bayoragan. She would be crowned ruler of the most powerful force in Neopia. She would be a god!

     *****

     Fyora sat gracefully upon her throne, her legs crossed delicately before her, her eyes fixated upon the entrance to her Hidden Tower.

     Scouts had brought her news of Bayoragan's breaching of the city walls. More than a dozen of her finest Battle Faeries had fallen to blades of fire the Fallen Faerie could summon at will. The former Champion of Faerieland had grown far too powerful over the long years since she had been banished. The time had come to put her tainted spirit to rest.

     All along the sides of the grand chambers, Faeries representing each of the elements stood, awaiting Bayoragan's arrival, looks of fear twisting their normally beautiful visages.

     Mi Toria and Allara stood, hidden away behind Fyora's throne. Hidden from direct conflict, should it arise.

     "Be at the ready," Fyora warned. There was not a note of fear in her voice as she calmly gave the order. Her supreme confidence helped to buoy the sinking spirits of her fellows and soon all the Faeries in the grand chambers had looks of grim determination etched upon their faces.

     Sensing a presence so foul that the very air in the room grew thick with malignancy, Fyora rose to her feet. "She comes!" the Faerie Queen cried as the two-foot thick iron-barred tower doors exploded inward, blasting debris around the grand chamber.

     At the same moment, the Faerie army gathered in the chamber burst into a flurry of motion. Fire Faeries let blasts of flame erupt from their fingertips, while Air Faeries circled on high sending miniature twisters into the gaping doorway. Earth Faeries pummelled the ground, sending tremors rippling across the chambers floor while Light and Dark Faeries blasted Bayoragan with a myriad of blazing attacks.

     From amidst the chaos, Allara heard a sound she knew all too well: the laughter of the Fallen Faerie. It echoed through the hall like a rolling thunder, bringing fear to the hearts of even the bravest of the Battle Faeries.

     "I do not come here to face your army of worthless pawns, Fyora!" the Tainted One screamed. The sound was so hollow and lifeless that Allara thought she might die right then and there, while Mi Toria buried her tiny head against the Acara's thickly furred shoulder.

     Allara peered out from behind the chair and there, at the centre of a cloud of debris, steam, and swirling smoke, two massive burning blades burst to life from thin air.

     With flicking wrists Bayoragan batted members of the Faerie army from side to side. They hopelessly ducked and dodged the whirling blades but their end was certain. Bayoragan was invincible.

     "Enough," cried Fyora, her voice ringing clear and true above the dull roar of battle. A single note so pure and perfect that even Bayoragan stopped momentarily, stunned by the power and tone of the Queen's voice.

     She strode forward towards the hulking abomination. The taint had twisted Bayoragan's form so horribly that she could no longer be recognized for her former glory. She was nothing more than a humanoid monstrosity, forged of fetid flesh and with twisting wings that seemed more like black clouds than anything of substance.

     Yet her aura paled in comparison to that of the greatest Queen Neopia had ever known. Fyora was the most powerful being on the planet, or so it was said.

     Holding her hands out at her sides, Fyora began to chant. Her singsong voice echoing around the great chambers, shattering the windows with her pure, powerful tune.

     "Al-holi aya,

     Oh hali timpa,

     Lo-hali aera!"

     She sang the verse again and again, the volume of her voice increasing each time she started it. Bayoragan looked horrified as she faced her former Queen. But she was far too powerful now to be overcome by a simple spell alone. Fyora would die before she could banish Bayoragan again from the world! Drawing forth her blades she lunged straight towards the Faerie Queen's delicate body.

     There was no way Fyora could dodge the deadly attack in time. She would sacrifice herself in order to restore peace to Neopia.

     Suddenly a blast of light from the far end of the chamber halted the path of his blades, driving between them and cutting a path straight through the center of Bayoragan's twisted form, protecting Fyora from the wrath of the Fallen Faerie.

     The Tainted One howled. A mix of rage and agony as the light began to tear away at her very being. She forced her eyes to look through the blinding ray of pure energy and there, at its source, stood the Acara whelp!

     And all the while, Fyora continued her mystical chanting.

     Allara's mind was focussed on only one thing once more. Courage. Her body shook as tremors of magical energy exploded from her, intensifying the powerful ray of light that erupted from the very essence of her pure and delicate form.

     Suddenly, Fyora's chant ceased. Bayoragan's howls abruptly halted as well. And Allara slipped into unconsciousness, exhausted from the drain of maintaining her spell.

     *****

     When she at last regained consciousness, Allara found herself alone, resting upon silken sheets in a bed composed entirely of tiny clouds.

     She looked around the strange room with a mix of awe and confusion. She had no idea what had happened since the battle against Bayoragan, or for that matter how long she had been unconscious.

     Abruptly the door to her room burst open and Allara's mother strode into the room, Mi Toria and then Fyora, Queen of Faeries following close behind.

     "How?" Allara mouthed, still not strong enough to speak after her incredible exertion. Though she had been unaware of her astounding feat at the time, the tiny white Acara had maintained her spell for five long minutes, only stopping when the sounds of Bayoragan's wailing had, at last, ceased.

     "Rest, dear. Everything will be explained to you in due time," her mother whispered, softly brushing a hand across Allara's forehead.

     "Your mother was summoned to Faerieland as soon as we could make the arrangements," Fyora added. Her presence was still overwhelming to the young Acara, but Allara knew she could easily grow accustomed to seeing the magnificent Faerie Queen.

     Then Fyora added something that, had Allara been standing, would have knocked her off her feet. "We couldn't have her sitting alone on her farm while her daughter, the one who defeated Bayoragan, lay sick in bed!"

     "De-defeated... how?" Allara inquired, a look of incredulity plastered across her pale visage.

     "My spell alone was not enough to bring Bayoragan to her final resting place," Fyora stated slowly, allowing the Acara to take in each word as it was spoken. "Your powerful magic was what bested the Tainted One." She paused, gazing fondly upon the young girl that the Faerie Queen knew had saved her life, before adding, "Your gift is a blessing, young one."

     With that, Fyora, Queen of Faeries, took her leave of Allara.

     Mi Toria leapt up on to the bed beside the exhausted and awestricken Acara, nuzzling up against her as she had done many times before. She handed the Air Faerie locket to Allara, who until that moment, had not even noticed she was no longer wearing it.

     Smiling softly the Miamouse pressed her face up against Allara's ear. "Fyora says you can keep me," she whispered gleefully. "We can be friends and travel together as soon as you're better."

     Allara felt the familiar warmth of tears in her eyes, but she was not afraid to let them slip over the soft fur of her cheeks and she cried openly then, wrapping her arms in a tight embrace around the warm body of the Miamouse, who squeaked happily at the show of affection.

     When the long embrace ended, Mi Toria took her leave as well. Now Allara and her mother sat alone, smiling at one another.

     "You know they asked us to stay here as honorary guests of Faerieland," her mother exclaimed, the weariness she had seen only a few short days ago had been wiped away, replaced with the same look of joy she remembered seeing when her father would come in from a long day in the fields. "Would you like that, Allara?"

     The Acara didn't even need to voice her answer for it was obvious, from the gleam in her eyes, that there was nothing that she wanted more.

The End