"You must really not like me," Tyrian says creeping out of the shadows. "And for a princess, you're very quick to judge. Did no one ever teach you manners?"

"I see no one must have taught you yours, and seeing how the Fae have gotten word so quickly that the dead princess lives, I would say your kind has a loose tongue as well." She holds her head high, the sparkle in her brilliant eyes dull. "It's not judgment. It's observation," she says under her breath as he finally steps into the light. "Your creeping around doesn't help your case, and neither does insulting royalty so I suggest you start explaining before I show you how judgmental I can be."

"Lucky for you, I have no interest in this back and forth."

For a moment I think I must be hallucinating. Tyrian's hair shimmers iridescent, like a sparkling river as the moonlight hits him like a spotlight. His skin glows like the soft ring around the moon.

"He's Fae. This is normal," I have to tell myself, but I'd be kidding myself if I didn't see strands of Lucy's curls glitter like specks of tinsel on a Christmas tree.

He comes to stand beside me, his eyes still fixed on the woman who has not stopped staring him down with a fieriness I have only seen once from the queen.

"It seems we've started on the wrong foot. My name is Tyrian. I am a servant to the prince of the Fae Realm. I come to bear a message to you not even the High Rulers of the Fae know about."

"And that is..." Lucy questions, arms crossed.

"I had visions of a girl. At first, I didn't know who it was until I was sent on behalf of the king to attend the Winter Ball."

"You lie," she bites. "We would know if there were Fae that were invited to the ball."

He looks at her unimpressed before snapping his fingers. The air around him warps and I can feel a sudden pressure between us. Everything becomes blurry until it becomes clear again. All a sudden, I don't feel as small in comparison. I look up at him to see the points of his ears rounded and the shimmer of his hair and skin weaken.

"It's not that hard for us to fit in," he says winking at Lucy.

"Then I saw the girl for real this time. It was you, Lucy. And for everything that I had seen in tiny glimpses... gardening, folding garments, crushing leaves for tea, I had never imagined to see a tiara on your head."

"Why didn't you say anything at the ball?" I ask. "If you were having visions, why not tell anyone while you were there?"

"I was going to," he says and Lucy scoffs.

"Give him a chance," I growl at Lucy under my breath.

"I was going to approach you then, but I had another flash. It only lasted a second but it was enough to see." He pauses and I can see in his eyes that he's reliving what he saw. "It was enough to see a girl curled around a grave in the middle of the night bawling her eyes out, whispering the same name over and over again."

Lucy unfolds her arms, holding tight fists at her side. "I've heard enough."

"Lucy..." I hold my hand out and plead with my eyes all the words I cannot speak aloud. Please hear him out. He could be our only hope. I know you hate him, and I don't know why, but for your own sake, put it aside. For Crista, put it aside. "Please," is all that I say, and I can hear my voice draining, longing for a moment of rest.

"I've overstepped," Tyrian says folding his arms behind his back. "That's why I didn't say anything at first. I didn't know why I was seeing visions of your future, but I knew that night was not the time to bring it up. I tried to let it go, but every so often I would get more and more glimpses. You humming songs down a hallway, delicious smells of desserts, the sound of laughter. I found that maybe you had started to heal."

She turns her body towards him but takes a step back. Her eyebrows furrow, but no longer can she hide the curiosity in her eyes.

"A few weeks ago, I saw the same woman sipping milkshakes with a friend. I recognized the brand on the cup right away and knew you would be coming to the Spring Equinox Festival. It's the only place they come."

"So, you came here to spy on us," I say, more as an accusation than a question.

"Sweet Lucy is not the only reason I decided to come. After visions of the future, I could still smell power lingering around me, unlike anything I had ever smelled before. That was my green light. The festival gathers thousands of people. The odds of finding Lucy in the crowd is like finding a needle in a haystack." He turns and looks at me, his eyes still glittering even in his 'human form.'

"That is until I smelled your magic so strongly, and I knew I'd be able to find you without a shadow of a doubt. And I was right. Except, when I found you, you were alone. The woman that had been popping in and out of my life was nowhere to be found." He looks back to Lucy. Her fists are unclenched and it seems she has slowly taken a step towards us. "And then I saw you. And almost as strong as your power, I could smell your worry and anger." Her gaze pierces into his as if taunting him to say one more negative thing about her.

"So again, I retreated. Call it selfish, but I had come all this way just to figure out why we've been connected for so long and I wasn't about to let the opportunity slip between my fingers. And that's when I found you again at Crow's Point."

"Soo... What's your message?"

His face falls. "Are you kidding me?" Both Lucy and I stay silent. "I just told you, my message. I want to know why you keep popping in and out of my life. Now, it's your turn to tell me why you are in almost all of my visions. What about you is so special?"

"You will not talk to the Princess of Lumbridge like that," I snap. "You're lucky she is even giving you the time of day, not to mention in the middle of the night."

"Yes, and I've received such a warm welcome." He says sarcastically.

"Okay," I interject before anyone else can start to argue. "We can't keep going like this, and both of you know it. I look back and forth between them only to see them both roll their eyes. "Now that you have offered your side. Would you please be so kind as to listen to ours?"

Tyrian strolls back, throwing himself on a tree stump. "Please. Be my guest."

I catch Lucy's eye and she reluctantly nods her approval. So as Lucy keeps a sharp eye on Tyrian, I tell our side of the story. Starting after the night that's been haunting me, all the way to present day.

"These tattoos," I say gesturing to Lucy's arm. "Do you know anything that could help us remove it before it's too late?"

She rolls up her sleeve with hesitation as Tyrian gets up to examine her arm. He lifts her wrist out and up so he can see it in the little moonlight through the trees. His eyebrows furrow as he focuses on every inky swirl.

"Slave marks have been a punishment for centuries, especially within the Fae."

"Punishment?" I whisper. "But for what?"

"Well, that's simple," he chuckles dryly. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything to that woman," she bites, ripping her arm out of his hold. "It's been years since I've seen her."

He steps towards me and I can feel my blood run cold. "And you?"

There is a beat of silence that's filled with a thousand unspoken words.

"You leave her out of this. I'm the one with the mark. Not her."

"Yes... it seems only her closest friends have been marked, but the guilty get away."

"You said I was a hero." The words leave my mouth before I can think. "Yes, I imprisoned her son. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Imprisoned?" he repeats eyes wide open. "No..."

Lucy and I look at each other and then back at Tyrian. "No?" she questions. "No... No – what?"

"Why didn't you mention that in the first place," he whips around, his tone changing drastically.

"I... I thought you would have known. Everyone knows." I say frantically defending myself.

He puts his hands to his head, walking away. "You mean that whole story... after all you did, you didn't slay him? You're keeping him imprisoned?"

I don't answer, and neither does Lucy. "Isn't it clear? That's why she's doing this."

"In case you haven't noticed, no it's not clear," Lucy says.

"To have a son die, that is an honor. Have him become a slave, that is disgrace, that's humiliation." He shakes his head. I can see the disappointment radiating off of him. "Why?" he asks meeting my eyes. "Why didn't you just kill him?"

"He was my best friend!" I scream. My voice echoes into the night, bouncing off of every rock and tree. "What would you do if the one person who was your everything betrayed you!?"

I inhale and my lungs feel like they are on fire; like there is smoke in my throat. "I can make a list of all my 'should haves'... but murdering my best friend will never be one of them."

I look away, unable to meet anyone's eyes. This is how it goes, right? Think you're doing the right thing, and it turns out horrible. Hasn't that always been the case?

Coming here in the first place: I got a bullet to the chest. Being magical: only because I have other people's power inside me. Turning myself in: I was so close to the enemy, but I still let him get away and let his people tear me up. Resurrecting my mother: only to watch her die right before my eyes. And, becoming loyal to Lumbridge: it cost me my best friend...

"What do I do?" I plead.

"We," he says. "What do we do."

"Umm, I don't think so." Lucy barges her way in front of him. "All you have done since we met is insult us. There is no we."

"There is a we since you know your magic is draining." Lucy doesn't say a word, but her face hardens back into that glare. "You know it. Your visions have been getting fewer and farther between. And even the ones you do have are weaker... shorter... blurry... You have no idea of the future that lies ahead of you, and you're terrified."

I expected Lucy to jump back, but she stills and plants herself into the ground.

"You guys used to have the advantage of being one step ahead, but not anymore." He looks to the both of us. "I can be your advantage."

"Why can't I just learn how to see the future?" I ask, frustrated.

"It doesn't work like that," he says. "Visions are not basic magic. The reading of the future requires knowledge and connection with time and space itself. It's a link between intuition and listening to anything or anyone who decides to speak to you, and it won't just pick anyone. You may be Chosen, but you can't choose this."

"And you're some expert?" Lucy says.

"I was appointed to the High Fae because of the excellence of my visions. I can tell people what their dreams mean. I can speak to the deceased. I am the messenger of danger and the proclaimer of victory. Do not question my authority, Your Highness."

The trees seem to quiver as he speaks. A chill runs down my spine and I can tell Lucy felt it too.

"So," he says straightening the lapels of his satin jacket. "Once you decide to put your pride aside and accept my invitation, I'm right here. But I warn you, I will not wait forever. The spirits are restless and there is much to solve."