☀ S E A S O N 3: Chapter 3

Any fleeting glimpse to the battlefield below does not bring you comfort.

Your friends are fighting for you. Yes. And yet they appear so miniscule compared to the demons facing them down. Demons with scales, with leathery skin, demons on all fours, demons that slithered, demons that stampeded, demons with eighteen arms -- and the golden Sleepers, the elite fae army held in KING KANOS's thrall by his corruption of KING OBERON's Crown.

The army that you had before been so grateful to see -- an army of dragons, centaurs, trolls, monsters and minotaurs -- looks like children's toys. Dungeons & Dragons miniatures, facing down true horrors.

Your friends look breakable.

KING OBERON's voice splits the air.

"NOW! This is our chance! Please!"

Smoke still curdles from MAGRENNDEL's flesh, charred by ROWEN's flamethrower.

Thick, sludge-like blood gushes in waterfalls from BUNNY's surgical slices across KANOS's leathery skin.

MARLEY lifts his Scepter of Souls as his friends advance on MAGDRENNEL.

KANOS's Crown topples.

MARLEY, MINAKO, BUNNY, SAGE, KAMAL, and all else standing on KANOS's shoulder pitch violently as the demon falls to one knee.

Someone shrieks -- in the chaos, you can't tell who. Everything shifts like a tectonic earthquake. Sliding toward the earth, it's only by bracing against KANOS's neck that you are saved.

MAGDRENNEL opens a portal behind her.

"Easy there, Maggie, ol' girl!" MARLEY calls. "You still owe me that dance!"

The demoness shoots MARLEY a seething look, hatred exuding from her slitted eyes.

"You are mere mortals," she says, shadowy energy flaring to life in her withered, ancient palms, crackling with dark light. "You have nothing compared to the powers you face. This is how you choose to die?"

MARLEY looks around.

"We have a Butterfly Net."

When the Crown of FAE KING OBERON, shoved with every muscle in the frail human bodies of the Pinefellows perched on his head, finally left contact with KANOS's skin -- it left shockwaves that could be felt all the way in Iceland.

(Some, to this day, still sell fake vials of holy water said to consist of the sweat that fell from ALDEN's forehead as he braced himself and shoved.)

"It's falling!" OBERON howled, pitching into a steep dive, his silver-white hair streaming out behind him, fingertips outstretched.

Every demon on the battlefield seemed to disengage from their foe, heads craning back, disformed arms stretching upward toward the plummeting prize.

And perhaps, if you were looking down at exactly the right time, you would see the moment their many beady eyes widened in surprise, as it was not OBERON -- not TOBY -- not KANOS...

But MIO "BUTTERCUP" CALLOWAY who pulled ahead of the crowd.

ROLL: Nat50 + 3 = 53

The moment BC's fingertips brushed the gilded silver surface of the Fae King's Crown, the entire object shimmered and changed shape.

At unspeakable speed, it shrunk. (One reptilian demon in the crowd, taller than all the rest, threw back her head and hissed in agony as the Crown retreated into the air, centimeters from her outstretched fingertips.)

The Crown reduced and reduced in size, until suddenly -- BC gripped it strongly in her fist.

Light poured from her, so bright that it lit up the night desert as light as day -- no doubt the brightest outdoor space many of the vampires had seen for centuries, if not millennia.

The faewalker girl's shoulders heaved as she gasped for breath from the effort, and yet all through her rippled a sense of peace... and power.

The power that had enhanced KANOS's magic to apocalyptic proportions.

The power that had enslaved the Sleepers to wage war against their own people.

The power that thousands of Templars over thousands of years had fought and died for, on the belief it could fix this world by force.

Power in the palm of her hand.

OBERON pulled out of his dive, about ten feet in midair from BC -- as behind him, DIEGO, on the back of APOLLODRUS, scooped his falling friends out of the air like a child catching fireflies.

"You did it," OBERON breathed. "You -- you've liberated it from the demons!" He stretched out his hand. "Thank you."

Power that so many people could only imagine.

"You have done a great service to me on this day. Quickly, so I can seal the demons below once more!"

Power that could intoxicate, and tempt.

"BC... hand it to me..."

The power of the gods.

"...BC?"

It's funny how nostalgic you can be for a place you only visited once. But the mansion in Whitehall, New York, is much as you remember it, from the atmospheric flickering lanterns to the hedge mazes.

The main thing that's different is the lack of robes and masks. It seems that post-apocalypse, the Sanctuary Society sees little need for secrecy.

There's a new chill in the air that wasn't there before. The leaves have darkened to glorious golds and reds, a signifier of change on the winds. The food served at the meeting is warm and filling -- butternut squash soups, pumpkin curry, fragrant mushroom rice.

But despite that, and the underlying tinge of hope, you would not necessarily call the mood of the meeting cheerful -- after all, many of you have barely-closed wounds from the battle on the sands of Morocco two days ago.

Besides... you know what this meeting is for.

Voting has been taking place from dawn 'til dusk, with members wandering in and out from the large hall to fetch food or even take well-needed naps. LESHY was voted the new head of the Sanctuary Society.

Now attention turns to the matter that everyone has been waiting for, all day.

TOBIAS EMMANUEL is led into the banquet hall in chains.

LESHY, leader of the Sanctuary Society, stands up at the long, wooden table.

"I am sure I don't need to list this man's crimes," he says solemnly. "Nevertheless, I will do so anyway. Least among them is conspiring against the Sanctuary Society..." He presses his lips together. "Of which he is indeed the founder. Identity theft is another; normal theft yet another. And magical theft, of the sanctuaries' most priceless artifacts, cannot be overlooked. Consorting with and unleashing demons. Nearly causing the apocalypse. Commanding others to murder -- and murder himself of the first degree, over the course of four millennia, including one of our own Keepers."

CARRIE's expression is one of naked bloodlust.

"As we know," LESHY says slowly, "TOBY is in a unique position, given his tie to the Elixir of the Hidden Land. Should he not have his weekly dose by tomorrow, his body shall--"

"I'll die," says TOBY, flat yet not aggressive. His brown eyes scan the room.

LESHY wrinkles his nose. It makes his mossy mustache quiver.

"Indeed," he says with disdain. Then sighs heavily and looks around the room.

"We have options to put to vote," he continues. "He could be imprisoned for a term of our discretion... but the sentence would need to be lived out in the dungeon of the Hidden Land, for proximity to the Elixir."

CARRIE stands.

"Or," she says loudly, "we let him die."

The room goes grimmer. Several people nod in agreement. LESHY does not flinch.

"Yes," LESHY says. "Capital punishment would be appropriate. We withhold his dose of Elixir, and at dawn, he turns to dust."

There's only a split second of silence before a dwarf stands up.

"I need no more consideration," he rumbles. "I vote for death."

Many others stand up, too, all speaking over each other. TOBY steps forward.

"Can I not speak?" he asks.

"And what defense would you offer?" LESHY asks drily.

TOBY shakes his head. "Defense? None. Perhaps in a different world I would be lauded as a hero right now -- but this isn't that world. History is written by the winners. I lost, and my punishment is imminent." He looks around. "But I have a suggestion as to what that punishment might be."

The dwarf's lip curls. "If you pick it, is it a punishment at all? You're attempting to save your skin."

"Anyone who knows me knows that being caged is not something I would consider a win." TOBY looks around.

"I propose that I be made the new guardian of the Elixir," he says, "just as FRYGGA guarded the Horn, and APOLLODRUS guarded the Key. I will be unable ever to claim it as my own -- meaning that I can never again attempt to free KANOS or MAGDRENNEL from the Demon's Throat." His expression is grim. "And I hope we can all at least agree that my resourcefulness, strategy, and clandestine nature will be an asset in protecting it."

There's a moment of silence before the hall erupts into the shouting voices of almost one hundred magical creatures, beings, and beasts.

"It's all distraction!" CARRIE yells. "We should let him turn to dust and move on to the important things -- like what to do with the treaty!"

"The treaty you practically ruined?" a centaur shoots back. "According to our Pinefallow kin, you practically ran that prison you call a park into the ground!"

CARRIE flushed red. "We -- we need to tighten security up and return to the way my father ran it. Then everything will be alright again!"

"Perhaps we should disband the park entirety, and free the imprisoned magickal beings you call citizens," the centaur shoots back.

"Now you're talking like TOBY! Are we really going to replace one terrorist with ano--"

"SILENCE!"

LESHY's voice rings out through Whitehall. He has grown by at least ten feet, seeming to inflate with anger.

"No more," says the Russian giant, in a much lower voice, a voice that reminds you of ancient forests and glacial fjords. "We are a democracy. All voices must be heard. And there are voices who have earned great consideration, whose opinions we have not yet heard..."

His eyes settle on you.

"What say the Pinefellows?"