They came in droves, gathering outside the castle walls, armour gleaming bright in the brilliant sun. Horses stamped impatiently in the snow. The breeze was crisp, cutting, and Raven's armour did little to keep her warm. She palmed her spear, eyes tracing the grain of the wood from butt to head.

Amethyst was the picture of calm to her left, her gaze on the road to the castle. There wasn't a hint of nervousness about her. Her wings fluttered on the breeze. Her armour had been specially crafted with slots in the back plate for them to rest in. They glittered in the sunlight, multifaceted and fantastic.

The energy in the plain was growing, a steady swell like the rising tide at the thought of what was to come. Some palmed the pommels of their swords, others walked their horses in circles, while still others drummed their fingers on the lip of their saddles. Raven was right there with them, her anxiety bounding out of control. This was happening. There was no going back. Today, she would see Nevison Corp for the last time.

A hundred faeries and Raven waited with little patience. The throngs joining the crowd dwindled until finally, a lone rider made their way down the slope. Their snow-white horse kicked up a plume in its wake that caught the sunlight. As they drew nearer, the crowd began to cheer. It was Ilya, resplendent in his flawless armour. He marched his horse in a wide circle at the head of the army to calm it, then removed his helm. Snowy hair cascaded around his shoulders. Stern, eager eyes scanned the group.

Amethyst fixed her gaze upon him, dark eyes bright with something Raven couldn't quite place. Was it love? Adoration? Pride? She couldn't be sure, and that bothered her deeply. She wanted Amethyst to look at her like that. She wanted Amethyst to notice her, to shower her with attention, not Ilya. She felt like a petulant child and let the thoughts go.

Energy hummed amidst the gathered army, anticipation for the words that would start their charge. Raven's nerves honed into a fine pointed focus. She couldn't tear her gaze away from Ilya, no matter how much the hurt flared when she looked upon him. Their fearless leader scanned the crowd with critical, blazing eyes.

"Warriors!" Ilya bellowed, and the crowd erupted in response, weapons pointed high. Raven mimicked the action and the surge of embarrassment quickly faded into determination, pride. "For far too long humans have been stealing our kind away, locking them in cages out of our reach. They have taken our friends, our family, our cousins, our neighbours. For years we have searched for them, for naught.

"The fates have brought us news, direction in our fight, from the most unlikely of places. Our young human friend—yes, our friend." The crowd grumbled in places where those who had been ignorant of Raven were suddenly enlightened. "Our young human friend has told us clearly of the obstacles before us, of the traps containing our brethren. It is long since time for us to bring them home.

"Stay watchful, mind your fellow warrior, watch your back as much as theirs. They do not expect us, they are not prepared for our onslaught. We strike fast and true. Show them no mercy, as they have not shown us. When we are done there, there will be none left to tell tales of what they witnessed. We shall take our own back to our kingdom as silent shadows.

"Ride fast and true, for the time to strike is upon us!"

Ilya let out a fierce cry, thrusting his gleaming sword to the sky so the light caught the blade, momentarily blinding Raven. All around her voices erupted into a fearsome song as weapons joined his in the air. After a moment, Raven joined in. She screamed so loud her throat ached. She screamed her frustrations, her fears. She screamed her quiet hatred of Ilya, her resentment of Amethyst. She cried her longing to strike, to free those poor fey she had seen with her own two eyes. But above it all, Raven cried for her feelings for Amethyst, which she ached to confess, but kept silent because of the engagement that predated her. She cried for the unfairness of it all.

Ilya swung his glossy horse around and led the charge toward the woods. Raven kicked her horse into action and followed the flow. Amethyst charged to her left, braid flying on the wind, a fierce determination painting her features. She sheathed her sword and held on with both hands as they picked up speed.

Raven was far from comfortable on a horse. She held on for dear life, armour clattering, as the beast carried her onward into the embrace of the verdant forest. The woods swallowed them up and the crowd filed into a thick line to fit on the trail. Raven was still near the front, close enough to watch glitter cascade from her magnificent wings.

Amethyst. Oh how Raven longed to tell her how she felt. She ached to gaze into those brilliant eyes of hers as they lay in her bed, to touch the sharp curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips. Ilya didn't deserve her. She was perfect. Strong, noble, fiercely independent. Everything Raven could ever desire in one perfect person. Of course, the person she found these traits in at last was not a person at all, but a creature wholly different from her. How old was Amethyst? Everything Raven had seen in the kingdom so far felt so timeless, ageless, and it applied to her, too. How many centuries had she lived? How many more would she see?

Her timeless age meant little to Raven, though. It changed nothing about how she felt for the woman. In the short time they had known each other, Raven had grown an attachment she had never felt before. She needed Amethyst to know the truth. She needed her to reciprocate. They had kissed, after all, was it really such a stretch to think that Amethyst might have feelings for her, too?

Just thinking about Amethyst made Raven burn inside. Her soft, creamy skin; her silky black hair, it all drove her to the point of madness. She longed for a chance to lace her fingers through those locks and draw her into a kiss more passionate than anything Raven had experienced before. There was a magic to their kisses, a charge between them that Raven couldn't ignore. She needed to feel it again, Ilya be damned.

If they survived this—when they survived this, Raven would tell her the truth. She would confess her feelings for all the good it would do. Perhaps there was a slim chance that Amethyst would feel the same. Would it matter, though? Even if she felt the same, would it mean more to her than her bond with Ilya? Raven would never know unless she tried. She had to take the chance or she just might die from the unbearable weight of not knowing.

The ride alone was exhausting. Raven lost track of time bouncing on horseback, armour clattering a storm around her. Her horse worked hard to maintain her position in the group, right near the front, behind Amethyst and Ilya. Was she thinking of him as Raven thought of her? Could she feel the force of Raven's thoughts?

The snowy woods gave way to lush, green trees and thick shrubbery. It did little to slow their procession. The trail thinned out and the army narrowed with it until they were only four wide.

"Glamour!" Ilya cried from the front.

The sentiment was echoed back through the crowd. The air around them seemed to tremble, shimmer as a blanket settled over them. Raven pushed her horse faster and took up position next to Amethyst.

"What was that?" she shouted, sure Amethyst wouldn't hear her over the din.

"Glamour to hide us from the public. With everyone pitching in, the strength is nearly impenetrable. Even with all the iron of the city we should be totally invisible to the masses."

They would need it. They were far from inconspicuous shrouded in gleaming armour on horseback. Raven prayed to herself that the glamour maintained. They needed the element of surprise. Who knew what the compound would do if they saw the attack coming.

The forest became a dirt road, which turned onto a paved highway Raven recognised at once. They were near the graveyard. They rode with purpose, charging harder yet toward the city. As the city swallowed them up, they filed into a single line and dodged between cars as they made their approach toward the facility's entrance.

Before the heavy iron gates, the army clattered to a halt, gathering as close as possible to the iron. Those up front swooned in places, others chewed their lips against the oppressive sting of the poison.

"Beyond those gates," Ilya bellowed into the sudden silence, "lies our target. Let no one live. We don't leave until every cell has been emptied. Recovery teams, as soon as you have a survivor, you are to head back to the castle to seek medical treatment. Medics, set up in the parking lot, treat whomever is too injured to make the trip back. If the glamour doesn't hold, fall back, but maintain your task. The rest of you, take no prisoners."

Again the army cheered, and Raven prayed silently that the glamour held enough to contain it. Ilya made the first move. He dismounted his horse and slipped into the guard's shelter, a dagger in hand. Raven watched in horror as Ilya dragged it across the dozing man's throat. Her stomach lurched as thick blood gushed forth. Ilya took the key card she had described to him without hesitation and ran it through the reader.

The gates rumbled open, wider and wider, and the tension in the group peaked. When at last they were fully open the group made their move. The facility sprawled before them, unwitting employees ignorant to the slaughter that was to come.