CHAPTER 33: CH 33: PLANT THIEVES - PART 6

The fairies moved quickly, drawn to the warmth of the valley.

Together, they hollowed out a new cave from the stone, their wings shimmering faintly in the cold light as they worked tirelessly.

It would be the resting place of their queen, a safe haven where she could continue her recovery.

When it was done, Lucian gathered them. His cane pressed against the frozen ground as he stood firm, his sharp eyes cutting across the crowd of glowing wings.

"You will not touch the predator plants. And you will not touch the crops I am growing. Also, don’t make me angry."

He declared. His tone was clipped, commanding.

A ripple of unease passed through the fairies. They whispered among themselves, their faces tightening in frustration.

Their queen was weak, her glow flickering like a dying star, and the plants already grown were nourishment they desperately wanted for her.

Lucian raised his hand, silencing their murmurs.

"In return. I will cultivate a separate batch. A plant only for her. She will be fed well."

He said.

The fairies hesitated. Their glares softened, suspicion shifting into hope. The promise of life—the possibility that their queen might recover—stilled their anger.

One fairy finally drifted forward, voice high and trembling.

"You will grow... for her?"

Lucian’s gaze was unyielding.

"I will. But on my terms."

The fairies looked at one another, then nodded in unison. Their wings shimmered faintly, a glow of reluctant agreement.

"Then we will agree."

They said.

Lucian leaned on his cane and turned away.

"Good. Then keep your end of the bargain. Watch the skies. Watch the snow. If humans come, if anyone comes, you will see them before they see us."

The fairies straightened, determination replacing their earlier doubt.

"We will. And with our magic, this valley will vanish from the eyes of predators. No one will find it."

They promised.

The deal was struck.

The year that followed was unlike any Lucian had known.

He worked the fields with Berry and Mira, their rhythm steady and relentless.

The soil stretched wider with each passing month, creeping beyond the snow-laden borders as if the land itself bent to their will.

The furnace grew as well, pieced together from scavenged parts, its warmth pushing deeper into the frozen air.

Side by side, they carved out survival. Side by side, they carved out power.

The fairies, true to their word, kept the valley hidden. Their enchantments wove illusions through the snow, bending sight and sound away from the truth.

No wanderer stumbled upon them. No predator’s gaze lingered long enough to suspect life thrived here.

And in the hollowed cave, the fairy queen stirred.

Her glow had returned, faint at first, but steady now. She shifted in her sleep, her body’s light pulsing as if echoing a heartbeat. It was clear she would awaken soon.

Berry often looked at her in awe. Mira, in pity. But Lucian... Lucian only watched in silence, unreadable as ever.

Everything seemed perfect.

Too perfect.

Lucian’s unease was not immediately apparent, but it gradually became more pronounced until it was visible on his face.

Berry noticed first. He set down his tools one evening, watching Lucian from across the field.

"You’ve been restless lately. Is something going to happen soon?"

He said slowly.

Lucian didn’t answer. His eyes lingered on the horizon, on the distant snow that stretched endlessly white.

Mira followed his gaze. She tightened her grip on her dagger and whispered.

"You sense something, don’t you? Are you not going to tell us about it?"

Lucian’s silence was confirmation enough.

The air grew heavy with it—the unspoken tension, the waiting.

At the valley’s edge, the wolves had grown. No longer the fragile pups Lucian had once sheltered, they were strong now, their bodies lean and fast, their senses sharpened by the hunt.

They roamed the borders faithfully, guardians of the hidden land.

Snow crunched beneath their paws as they moved, their breath forming white clouds in the air. Their ears twitched, noses flaring with every gust of wind.

Then, suddenly, they stopped.

Something was wrong.

Their hackles rose. A low growl rumbled through the silence. The scent was faint, but undeniable—foreign. Something that did not belong to the valley.

The pack leader bared its teeth, lips curling back into a snarl. The others mirrored him, their bodies tense, ready to fight.

But instinct spoke louder than pride. They could not face this alone.

With tails low and muscles coiled, they turned and bolted through the snow, racing back toward the heart of the valley.

Lucian had to be warned.

An intruder had crossed into their world.

And the year of peace was about to end.

Lucian’s hand stilled on the handle of his axe. His eyes narrowed toward the snow-veiled horizon, the faintest flicker of unease darkening his expression.

Berry noticed immediately.

"What is it?"

He asked, wiping his hands on his cloak as he walked closer.

Lucian didn’t answer right away. The wind howled low through the valley, carrying with it a scent that only the wolves had first caught.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, calm but edged with warning.

"Guests. They’re on their way."

He said.

Berry blinked.

"Guests? What kind?"

He frowned, his tone uncertain.

Lucian’s gaze sharpened, though he did not look at him.

"That... I don’t know. They may come as friends. Or they may come as foes. Either way, they’re coming."

His fingers tapped lightly against his cane, deliberate, as though each tap was a thought weighed.

Berry’s unease grew.

"So what do we do?"

Lucian finally turned to him, his stare cold and unwavering.

"We need to prepare. If they come peacefully, they’ll be allowed in. If not..."

He let the words hang in the air like frost.

"We deal with them before they deal with us."

Berry swallowed hard, but nodded.

"Understood."

The snow swirled around them, heavy and unrelenting. Somewhere beyond the storm, shadows were moving closer.

The valley had been quiet for far too long. And Lucian knew—peace never lasted.