Desert

Titania walks slowly over the dry-baked earth of the Desert, leaving a trail of dust in her wake. The sun bears down upon her, not a cloud in the pale blue sky to obscure it, and her jet-black coat shimmers beneath a thick varnish of sweat. The heat surrounds her, all-encompassing, sucking every last bit of moisture from her body and giving nothing back, but her steps are light, her ears tipped cheerfully forward. This place, for some, might be a wasteland - and compared to jewel-green Atlantis, with its miles of endless greenery and crystal-clear freshwater rivers, it most certainly is.

For Titania, though, Salem means freedom. And for that reason alone, this arid island is more of a paradise to her than anything, including the so-named jungle home of the wolf-king Rougaru.

Maybe that's why she'd found it so appealing. The Desert, she learned, was the complete opposite of its tropical neighbor: where the vines and trees and flowers of Paradise would cloister around her, constantly touching her, choking her in their grip, here she found endless expanses of wide-open space. There was no canopy for her assailants to hide beneath, obsessively surveilling her for the slightest hint of resistance, and there was no constant barrage of birdsong and monkey screeching to muffle their hoofbeats as they tracked her every move. She stops at the crest of a low dirt hill, enjoying the sound of only the wind in her ears and the emptiness of the horizon - until something, someone, breaks the silence with a call, instantly souring her mood. She had hoped to enjoy a few more days of peace, especially after she'd managed to shake off the pursuit of Vanya's pesky little brat-son Drogon. But Titania knows all too well how one's path in life can change, and how easily a dream can become a nightmare, a once-perfect fantasy turned into a horror far beyond her wildest imaginings.

Everything about her life on the Islands had come with shades of grey, shining and shadowed memories alike, and nothing gold could stay. Eventually, the darkness would come for her again - and as the battle-scarred mare comes down off her precipice and canters towards the horse-shaped point in the distance, approaching the source of the unfamiliar, beckoning voice, she chooses to face it head-on, knowing that light will be waiting for her on the other side.

Titania stops some yards from the old stallion, eyes boldly raking across his painted body. She'd known the instant he called out that he would be a stranger to her, and not Rougaru or one of his minions sent to bring her back to heel, but as she flares her nostrils, gathering his scent, a little more tension leaves on the breath of her next low exhale. This is the man whose tracks she'd seen in the mud around the oasis, whose smell she'd caught fresh above the fading marks of the mare who'd come before her. He has been here longer than she has, and so he cannot be a spy from Paradise - but that doesn't mean he's harmless. Decrepit or not, he has survived in this harsh climate, all without claiming it for himself.

Why? From the marks on his skin, he could be an accomplished fighter. And something lurks beneath his golden-eyed stare, a wild, beastly sort of shine she recognizes.

She, too, has this roiling creature trapped inside her, offering glimpses of its gnashing, pointed teeth. It bristles under her speckled coat, briefly freed in the lash of her long tail against her hindquarters, and when she finally breaks the silence with her voice, its fetid breath stings like acid on her tongue, sharpening her words into steely, needled blades.

"Yes?" the fae Queen asks, demanding to know why he summoned her. "What is it that you want?"

And he'd better be quick about it. She'd been enjoying her time by herself, but now that she was free, she had children to save - and retribution to bring to the ones who'd caused her family so much pain and suffering.