The night of Calanmai was...electric.

All High Fae, all High Lords, all maidens and men alike flocked to the grassy hills of the Spring Court. Lithe bodies twisted and shifted against others in this...dance of drunken revelry and syrupy magic.

That sharp tang of it hung heavy in the air, cloying on the tongues of the Fae as that ever steady beat of the drum reverberated through the ground. Everyone was fair game after the Hunter took the Maiden.

The surge of energy from the release of magic after was intoxicating and many sought release in the comfort of other cloaked figures. As you weave in and out through the haze, you can't help but feel a deep thrum in your belly, as if it pulls you in a different direction than your feet currently carry you.

You begin to run, not even sure where to, but the pull was far too strong to ignore. Your bare feet enjoy the plush of the grass and soon you stand on the crest of a hill, bathed in moonlight, a glimmering pool below. A figure stands shoreside, his cloak seemingly bathed in starlight.