“1903 days left” by Duvencrune, Edgar O. Diary of the Long Night, 111th Edition

  Humbert's nerves were on edge, his hands trembling. His fat fingers twitched with a strain that he couldn't control—hours had been lost behind the cluttered confines of his store, probing the contents of a recent delivery. But he couldn't focus. Like a junkie, he was only thinking about her.

  She was late, and so were his mushrooms that he so desperately wanted, desired and needed.

  Humbert had exhausted his stash the previous week. He lowered his heavy body onto a crate, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Even with the piercing chill of Mir-Sun's winter air outside, a boiling fever consumed him from within.

  "Where in the fucking world is that faerie?"

  Before he could fully process his own frustration, the sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. But it was not just a pair of feet that echoed through his store. Humbert almost jumped out of the warehouse room to the counter's store, but he saw her. There she was—Claramae.

  Yet, she was not alone.

  Six faeries stood before him, attired as though prepared for a great hunt. They wore armour crafted from hides and were equipped with daggers and bows. Even Claramae, whom he was used to seeing in a floral dress and apron, appeared as though she was gearing up for battle.

  For a moment, Humbert felt a genuine fear for his safety, his hand hovering over the rifle concealed beneath his counter. His unease was momentarily quenched by the sight of an unusual faerie among the group.

  She appeared much older than her sisters and was dressed in the fashion he would anticipate: in a childlike manner with a charming dress adorned with a white apron, her hair neatly braided. There was a youthful uncertainty on her aged face and her demeanour as she approached his counter while the rest of the group remained by the door.

  "Hello, I'm Maddie. I need… we need, I mean… I'm a faerie..." she began, her voice faltering slightly over the words.

  Humbert's grip on his hidden gun eased scarcely, though he remained alert. "Hello, Maddie. What can I do for you today?" The storekeeper asked, visibly uncomfortable.

  Maddie glanced back at Claramae, who gave her an encouraging nod. "I'm here for gasoline, some new needles, and... socks, twenty pairs of them. Also, we need coal... and, if possible, wool. I'm planning to make new blankets... and, um..." Her voice trailed off as she looked over her shoulder again for support.

  "If you're having trouble remembering, just read from the list," Humbert suggested gently, knowing Claramae always had a list.

  Maddie, with a nervous shuffle, reached into her coat pocket. As she attempted to retrieve the paper list, a parcel wrapped in parchment inadvertently dropped to the floor. Quickly but with a tremble, she stooped to pick it up as fast as she could.

  Observing Maddie's evident nervousness, Humbert's apprehension diminished. He withdrew his hand from his rifle, took her hands in his, and guided them to rest on the counter, intentionally avoiding any scrutiny of the parcel's content. But he knew what it was, what it contained.

  "What you're holding is as precious as gold to me. You should only reveal it when all negotiations are completed and agreed upon. Only show your full hand if you know you’ll leave with what you asked for. Do you understand that?" he explained, "I'm a drug addict. This is not a joke. I don’t know what I am able to do just for a slice. I will do anything to get my hands on that little parchment you hold."

  She nodded. Maddie was visibly scared, and it was noticeable when her gaze shifted around as she realised how she may have jeopardised the entire transaction. The human then released her hand, the one clutching the list.

  "A generator," she read softly from the wrinkled paper.

  "To run the generator, you'll need gasoline. Is the other one broken?" Humbert asked calmly, attempting to mask his excitement at feeling the small package of mushrooms under his palm.

  "No... we need an additional one," she confessed with an evident embarrassment.

  "So, the Long Night finally got Faewood. I understand... the winter's been hard on you too, huh?"

  Stolen story; please report.

  He turned around and made his way to the warehouse, soon coming back bearing the weight of her requests. "Anything else you need?" he asked.

  "Not for today," she replied, extending her hand with the mushrooms towards him.

  "Hold on, faerie, we're not done here," he remarked.

  She glanced back at Claramae, seeking guidance, to which the other faerie responded, "You're in charge now, Maddie."

  "I've brought the coins and your requested... treats. I believe that settles our business," Maddie stated confidently.

  The storekeeper quickly took the parcel from her hand, meticulously counting the slices within. "Why are there more slices? This doesn't add up," he questioned, happy but perplexed.

  "I sliced them thinner. This way, you maintain your usual quantity without consuming them too quickly and running out before I come back," she explained.

  Humbert glanced at her, then, addressing Claramae over Maddie's shoulder, he asked, "Is she always this thoughtful?"

  "Maddie may only be seventeen, but she's acutely aware of what our colony needs, especially when it comes to star mushrooms. Plus, she has a heart of gold," Claramae explained with a proud smile. “I have no idea from whom she got it. Surely not from me.”

  "And where might you all be headed now?"

  "The time has come for us to reclaim our sisters," she declared, pointing to all forty-four posters forgotten on the wall.

  "That sounds incredibly dangerous," Humbert said.

  "Indeed, we are," she affirmed, a daring smirk playing on her lips.

  "Well, in that case, it's been a pleasure doing business with you, faerie."

  "The feeling's mutual, human," Claramae responded, then, with a final glance at Maddie, she asked, "Everything okay?"

  The young faerie nodded affirmatively as the group exited the store, their steps almost marching toward the docks.

  They had a boat to hijack.

  Under the veil of the Long Night, Mir-Sun's docks whispered with the hushed sounds of cargo boats gently bobbing in the water, with their hull worn out by their journeys between Ostesh and Spiyles. Most of these vessels were steered by human hands, with the Mere occasionally stepping in as hired muscle to fend off the looming threat of pirates.

  Claramae, with the other faeries, had set their sights on one ship in particular. A schooner with an unmistakable sigil: an octopus enveloping a boat in its tentacles. Their hope hung on the slim chance that the crew was solely human, for the presence of a mage among them could spell disaster.

  The cover of night cloaked their approach as they glided silently over the deck, which, at first glance, appeared deserted.

  Their mission was to reclaim their sisters and bring them back from the clutches of those who dared traverse the sea between realms to mess up with faeries. Yet, the stillness of the night was shattered when a lone crew member caught sight of their silhouettes against the artificial light of lampposts. The alarm bell's clang pierced the silence, a dire warning that they had been spotted.

  In a desperate bid to quell the sound, Claramae acted with dreadful swiftness. Her mouth transformed, her visage torn asunder by a wide gape, teeth unfurling from her gums like the petals of a deadly flower. No creature could brag to have seen the true form of a faerie and live.

  With just one bite, Claramae consumed the human whole. But it was too late; their element of surprise was irrevocably lost; the ship's crew, now fully aroused with firearms.

  The confrontation escalated quickly. One faerie was struck in the shoulder; the bullet burning under the leather just poked the faerie's wrath. She retaliated, her own form a weapon, as she decapitated her assailant with a singular, gruesome bite. And others followed the same fate as her rage gave room to her ferocious appetite.

  Another faerie, hanging on the mast, let loose a volley of arrows, each one aimed with deadly precision at the humans who dared to challenge them. The deck became a battleground stained in red, where the line between predator and prey blurred with each passing moment.

  This would be only the beginning as the battle resumed into a continuous sound of cracking bones and torn flesh echoing through the deck.

  The faeries, despite being outnumbered, were battling for more than just the return of their kin; they were fighting for their very right to live freely without fear, to walk the land in accordance with their own will, liberated from the need to hide their wings beneath corsets, from the shackles imposed by humans, pirates, or the relentless grip of Winter!

  Faeries were the pioneers in charting the Map, and they were determined not to succumb to the same destiny that befell the centaurs. It was clear that they would not allow humanity to be the architects of their downfall.

  Just a couple more bones to break, and the ship would belong to them!

  

  More than any other substance I've come across in my Summers, Sternmelos, or as they're commonly known, star mushrooms, have been notorious for their profound impact on creatures. From what I can remember, despite there being no concrete evidence to suggest that they physically harm any creature's body, these fungi wield a peculiar power. They seem to extract something intangible from a person, something that's never quite returned. The process begins subtly, with a vacant gaze, as if the individual is slowly detaching from the present moment. Gradually, they become immobilized, trapped in a sort of blissful stupor that disconnects them from reality. They're lost to their own personal utopia, unable to interact with the world as they once did. Interestingly, despite the significant alterations these mushrooms cause to one's state of being, medical research has yet to pinpoint exactly how they inflict their damage. This ambiguity has made Sternmelos easily accessible to all who seek them. A simple encounter with a farmer—faeries, in most cases—is all it takes to acquire some of these mushrooms. Currently, as I write, they are considered illicit socially, yet their consumption or possession isn't officially recognized as a criminal offence. But I understand the enticing of being disconnected from the real world, if not just for a minute. ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer