Cloud gaped at the sight before her. 

Her paper thin wings were useless in the strangely, weightless space bending and shifting endlessly into blinding hues of blues, greens and whirring multicoloured Trollians buzzing about. It was a rollercoaster of slip lines leading and weaving to places unknown, the different Trollians jostling and bumping into one another but never paying any mind. They giggled endlessly as they were playfully tossed and tumbled about together but somehow each one found where they wanted to go.

Cloud tried to understand what brief snippets of conversation they had with one another but the cacophony of movement was too distracting for her to concentrate. It was an obstacle course of unpredictable moving parts, random objects flying about as the once confident sylph struggled to find her footing in this unfamiliar world. Struggling to dodge a giant book and broken toolbox, Cloud clambered up oversized wooden tools with strangely shaped edges and ducked under half dogged books and pages falling out with scrawls of writing veering past her vision.

Attempting to go with the flow she followed a group of familiar Smoke Trollians, coughing at the trail of smoke as a brief glimpse of a brutal fight made her startle backwards and get caught in the fray of another group of spirits chasing each other in and out of the wormholes. Trying to catch her breath, Cloud managed to find a pocket of empty space to calm down. A wry smile crossed her face, a flash of memory settled her nerves a little as she took the time to process.

Her mother’s memory drifted into her mind, the reminder of how truly stubborn she could be when it came to protecting and representing the Trollians. Unable to communicate their wishes, these playful spirits had once been hunted just as the Collective had been. Despite that, her mother advocated and bonded with the Trollians and after generations of nymph, pyrith and dryad Elfidari’s struggling to integrate into the rest of the realm this came to a head in a strategy meeting.

One of the main topics of discussion was the undocumented realm of these spirits that had no name and once the Caithsee scholars arrived they confronted the current nymph Elfidari and demanded all the information about these ‘Pocket Terrains’ they had claimed to discover. It was Aura alone who, despite being a potential Elfari much like herself, used her Folka to demonstrate the connection each member of the Collective already knew and the Caithsee Bookeneeers had yet to learn. 

That they didn’t discover shit.

Despite Aura’s insistence in the Nook Knolls heritage, playful background and preferred pronunciation the Caithsee refused to accept the chosen name the young Elfari heir had provided, attempting to alter and outright steal the notes from the Elfidari’s very chambers. Aura’s father was outraged but even as they shifted the blame to Aura being the thief she did not back down. 

Her Folka rang true even in the face of so many of the Collective doubting and casting her out as a traitor. But the nymphs were not fooled so easily by the Caithsee’s sweet words. Eventually, the relationship between the Collective and various factions of the Caithsee never recovered even as the Bookeneeers illegally colonised their history for Opalis and beyond. 

It was this very act of stubbornly defending the Trollians even when her own current monarch disagreed that had her inherit the Elfidari title as no sylph had before or since. Even as Bitrfall came to an end her mother defended the Collective and the Nook Knolls side by side until her last breath. She was the Endless Elfidari, Aura the Unshakable who would never be forgotten.

“This isn’t my home and I need to play by its rules. Folka be damned. Wings be damned.”

Taking a deep breath, Cloud closed her eyes and felt for her Folka deep within her chest and muttered the same mournful notes of the song she had summoned the night of the Undergrowth massacre. It was fitting for the anniversary. Not so much for a presentation of the clans.

Diving headfirst into the whirlwind of unpredictability, Volta Trollians lit the way forward in a bright yellow surge of energy as the familiar jostling of bodies pushed into her even as the sight of the crowd came into view and the race still went on without her. 

The wormhole snapped shut, just as her hand brushed the watercolour scene she desperately reached for and in its place was a thing straight out of her nightmares. The Trollians fled, a wordless scream at her throat as her Folka burst forth in a torrent of wind but still the rising frost clung to the steadily crumbling expanse of the Nook Knoll. 

A large, meaty claw ripped its way through the phantasmal realm breaking it apart at the seams as Cloud was ripped from the Nook Knoll and sent veering into the brush. The sylph tucked her wings in, using her earlier flight training from Avaitus’ refresher course to protect her wings and try to get out of the crash as safely as possible.

“Well, I was only supposed to go after a few stray Trollians but I guess a little nymph will just have to make do.”

Cloud flinched at the grating voice of her attacker, her breath uneasy as her Breathless began to take hold and force her Folka inwards. Desperate to run, the Elfari tried to get to her feet but the sheer sight of the monster before her sent her kneeling weakly on the sodden grass.

“I won’t let you…harm them.”

The sinister dragon stood menacingly to half the height of the endlessly large Ironthorn trees that had stood for generations and had been home to many a Collective member. His silver scales glinted in the moonlight, Cloud struggling to recall her multiple dragonic lessons her tutors had drilled into her but the young sylph had only cared about learning about the Traited. But this dragon wasn’t facing her.

The once perfect looking nymph was leaning haggardly against the tree furthest from the clearing before them, the rain petering out just enough to see the two Trollians huddled behind Astra: two Steam Trollians. The last person Cloud would have ever expected to face off against a dragon was the only defence for this pair. What little bias Cloud had for the stories of the nymph Elfidari and her fellow Advocate in front of her vanished in the face of real danger.

“Oh, ho ho. I don’t think you’ll have much choice, little snack. This rain might be yours to command but I doubt you’ll last much longer with that stamina of yours.”

Hidden by thorns and brambles, Cloud dared to creep nearer toward the dragon just as The tree the nymph had been leaning on for support was felled with a single swipe from the dragon's claws. Like slicing through air the hardest tree in all the realm crumpled like paper beneath his strength as he stretched lazily as if playing a game of tag rather than attempting to massacre an entire forest. 

The sound of the falling tree was deafening even as the wounded nymph scooped up the struggling Trollians and scrambled desperately to the side with the Trollians still clutched in her arms. Her legs were barely able to keep moving, even as she stumbled the deep gash in one of her hind legs staining the grass below despite the relatively lightweight creatures she was carrying. Astra didn't see the next attack coming. But she did.

“Leave her alone!”

Cloud zoomed in front of the desperate nymph, the dragon startled enough to buy them a few seconds as she stood him down, legs shaking at the behemoth mere inches away. Eyes glued to his gaping maw and sharp spines covering him, the terrified Elfari tried to focus on the task at hand and buy Astra as much time as she could.

“Move aside, little twig. I’m tired of your lot getting in my way and demanding everything. Those trolls are the property of the Flickerwick family and it is my job to return them to their Masters.”

Cloud narrowed her eyes, irritated by this dragon’s use of the phrase ‘Masters’ but fully well aware of her impending doom she dared to glance a look behind her to see how far away Astra had gotten. Muttering under her breath, the Major Folka of healing gently carried it on the wind and the steadily oozing wound closed over her leg long enough to help her get away. 

“By felling a tree and attacking an innocent nymph in the process? These Trollians are under the protection of the Collective and despite their Master's claim to them we are currently in an important service to aid in their migration to the Lasting Place.” She ranted nervously, knowing full well that what she was doing was incredibly stupid but hoped he’d get confused by her useless word vomit.

Cloud desperately grasping at straws, her mind completely blank with ideas on how to fight, escape or remember something or anything about the creature in front of her. She knew how vain they could be, how fast or strong they could be and how obsessed they could be about knowledge, learning or their interests. But none of that mattered when facing off with a fearsome opponent who could squish you in a second.

“I’ve tried to be nice, sylph. Move aside before I use force.”

Cloud’s wings shook, counting the seconds in her head. 

“No.”

The dragon’s claw reared forwards, Cloud flinching as she shut her eyes and thought of the last time she saw her parents. Her father’s smile. Her mother’s quiet confidence. Her aunt's kind but strict advice. 

“Hurry up, Cloudless! Run!”

Cloud’s eyes snapped open, Breathless but alive as the nymphs arm wrenched her away from the fiend suddenly trapped in brambles entrenched around the dragon. Dazed and frantically searching for someone to aid, even Tirithia to burn away the rain that even the giant dragon struggled with the combination of slick ground and cloying thorns that tugged at his claws, scales and tails.

“I didn’t know you knew a dryad's Minor Folka.”

“I didn’t know you could be so irreparably reckless, Lady Elfari.”

Cloud laughed but couldn’t help but note Astra’s wings, a thick layer of frost freezing them in place as they struggled pitifully to open and close freely. She shivered, noting the usually lush covered grass now brittle with harsh frost despite Bitrfall’s winds yet to travel this far out to Nocturus.

“We need to get out of here before he-“

Cloud stopped in her tracks.

The Galeforce Folka died in her throat at the sight of a large, bumbling creature bursting through the undergrowth with Astra oblivious to its advances. She was too preoccupied with keeping the Trollians following behind to realise any kind of inconsistencies. 

“Bobble? Whisper? Where are you?”

She couldn’t breathe. Her mind couldn’t fathom why now of all times one of those beasts had the audacity to look just as lost and hurt as she was. No matter the sight of the silver drake before her, there was nothing on this plane or any other that could send her Folka spiralling quite like this creature. 

It was smaller, much smaller than she remembered, probably a youngling of those who dared kill her mother. But no matter the age, the size or what kind of state it was in, there was no mistaking it. A Traited was in the Undergrowth.