A Glamour of Smoke & Shadow

The eyes of the Fates are fixed on me.
I don’t look over at them to acknowledge their presence though every ounce of protocol requires me to do so. To ignore the Fates is to insult the goddesses of creation. But today’s an exception to formality. Besides, I’ve trained my whole life for this chance. I refuse to let manners ruin it for me. So, I concentrate instead on winning this fight.
Late afternoon sun trickles in between the leafy branches overhead. The warm, humid air of summer has already made my skin sticky, though some of that is probably nerves. Beneath my feet, the ground has been cleared down to nothing but dirt. The space here is dubbed the warrior’s circle. Surrounding it, fae and forest alike press in at the edges.
Everyone has come to watch us, but I shut them out easily enough. The Fates’ presence is the only distraction for me.
Crouched in the center of the circle, my opponent, Heliconia, shows none of the conflict I feel at ignoring the three deities watching from the sidelines. Instead, she glares at me with the fires of Hel burning in her dark gaze. If I hadn’t lived and sparred with Heliconia for the last six months, I’d worry she had Furiosity blood running through those fae veins.
Her temper never wanes. Her strength is unmatched. She’s a fae warrior from the strongest bloodlines, a formidable foe, but I’m determined to beat her today.
My future is riding on my victory. All I’ve ever wanted is to become one of the Aine. Now, the only thing standing in my way is Heliconia Kucera.
“A moment please.” The three Fates—willowy figures that depict the maiden, mother, and crone—speak as one. Their combined voice is an ethereal blend of the three goddesses.
I’ve only seen them once in my life before this moment.
The day they selected me to compete is still imprinted in my mind like a fever dream. My family comes from warriors, sure, but this is an honor few have received. My parents cried for days afterward, and my village threw me a parade before I left for training just outside our realm’s capital city. At the time, all the attention embarrassed me, but the memory of my people’s pride has carried me through the most brutal training I’ve ever endured.
Six months later, the Fates have come to Sevanwinds, the summer kingdom, to preside over our final competition. Those who make it will be divided into four groups. Three of us will remain in Sevanwinds to serve the crown here. The other three groups will be sent to the remaining kingdoms—fall, winter, spring—and pledge themselves to a king or queen there. The Aine have kept peace among the kingdoms for centuries this way. My generation will be no different.
My two best friends, Lesha and Amanti, have already won their rounds and secured their place as an Aine. There’s only one spot left, and it’s down to me and Heliconia. Twelve Aine—timeless, immortal warriors. Female fae of the highest honor. When our transformation is finished, we’ll be full-blooded Fairies. Chosen by the Fates themselves to protect this world.
I want that twelfth spot more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Right now, the Fates’ sudden interruption grates against my already taut nerves, but I respectfully turn to them as they continue their announcement. “Before we begin the last round, the Furiosities wish to join us and observe this sacred rite of selection.”
Their voices are pleasant, but shock and dread shoot through me.
Heliconia and I exchange a look.
“Are they serious?” she whispers, eyes wide.
“I don’t think they’d lie,” I say, just as surprised.
Murmurs erupt from the crowd that’s gathered to witness this last battle. The Fates don’t bother to shush them. A moment later, behind the circle of onlookers, smoke rises, thick and dark, from the earth.
Heliconia and I step back, shoulder to shoulder, allies now should we need to be. She’s a warrior fae like me. A sister. Or she might’ve been if we hadn’t been brought to this moment—forced to become opponents.
Inside the black smoke, a trio of figures appear. They stand close until their forms solidify. Then, out of the smoke, three males emerge. I have no idea what the protocol is for looking directly at a Furiosity. They are demon-gods. The kings of Hel. No living fae has seen them, though tales of their wrath and cruelty are legendary. In villages, stories of the Furiosities keep children from misbehaving. I’d always thought them closer to fantasy than reality. Yet, here they are.