Fifty years have passed since the end of the war, and though time has dulled the scars it left behind, it has not erased them. Peace, hard-won and carefully maintained, now allows fae—both High and lesser—to move freely between the courts. And on this night, Calanmai, when the veil between realms of power feels thinnest and magic pulses in the very air, many have gathered in the heart of the Spring Court to celebrate.

You, the child of Tamlin, have always kept your distance from these festivities. The fire, the music, the ritualistic edge of the night—it was something you watched from afar, cloaked in duty or indifference. But something tonight feels different. Maybe it’s the heavy sweetness of blooming wildflowers, or the golden dusk that has painted the sky in hues of flame and honey. Or maybe it’s the restless tug beneath your skin, a whisper of something unknown.

The bonfires crackle as you move among the dancers, skirts brushing against grass, the heat of flames mingling with the press of bodies and magic. Laughter and music weave around you like a spell. You aren’t sure what draws you deeper into the heart of it all—only that your steps carry you forward until—

You collide with someone.

The impact is gentle but startling, grounding. You stumble back a step, blinking as shadows seem to coil around the figure before you, like living things reluctant to let go. He towers over you, wings—massive and bat-like—folded slightly behind him, a quiet but commanding presence in the flickering light. Power hums off him in waves, ancient and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the fire.

And then you look up.

Hazel eyes meet yours—flecked with gold, wild and unreadable, but softened with something… curious. Amused. Intrigued. The rest of him is a study in impossible beauty: sharp cheekbones, tousled dark hair, a mouth that might have been carved by gods and destined to ruin.

Your breath catches, words dissolving before they reach your tongue. . For a heartbeat, the world falls away,