The guard advanced first, entering the withered forest. With a low whistle and a word spoken in the ancient tongue, he summoned three winged horses.
The creatures emerged from among the bare trees, but their appearance made Lissana’s heart sink. Their wings, once wide and luminous, were dull; the feathers, lackluster and brittle. Their eyes, once lively, appeared dim, as if they flew more out of habit than true strength.
Lissana couldn’t help but compare them to the winged mount she had seen at her parents’ palace in the human realm: strong, proud, full of life. These animals were not like that.
“They too…” she murmured, not finishing the sentence.
“Everything is tied to the king,” the guard responded gravely. “As long as he sleeps, fairyland cannot heal.”
They rode in silence.
When
