I searched myself but found few desires. Before now, there had been but two—serve Manoj, attack the queen's new lover. It was a simplistic form of thinking but effective as both went hand in hand.

A fairy queen would arise, find loathing and contempt for me, choose a strong king as a lover—be it human or magical—then mobilize their army to bring me down.

Each and every time, I'd slaughtered said armies, gathered the souls fresh from battle, and bestowed them to Manoj.

And this happened again and again. At first, as the world was young and resources limited, it was merely me fighting each battle. Alone on the field, zipping past everyone, literally ripping through opponents with my speed. But then humans discovered projectiles beyond arrows and had even more men at the ready.

Therefore, I reveled in gathering a few magical races to me. The elves were very efficient. Goblins were expert diggers, and their plentiful children could suck the blood and magic from anyone.

In this incantation, I'd slain several griffins, but they'd originally started on my side until I betrayed them for convenience's sake.

My armies were probably the biggest victims in all battle because they did not know that the fallen on my end, just as the fallen on the other, would also end up feeding Manoj in my cull. I made no distinction. And every double cross meant nothing, because I'd done it all...for Manoj.

Despite standing before this broken wall, memories flooded me. There'd be gaps, I knew, but they came hard and fast and that was because of the symbol before me—it was me—the fairy king, returned here over a year ago. The time marker was undisturbed, as was the symbol for my being.

One year ago, almost to the day, I, the fairy king, came to this wall and purposely stood here for one entire day. And now I knew why. I had done the very thing I do now, used this wall to remember the past. Perhaps I was searching for something—something I needed.

Simply gazing at the stone unlocked the magic to me alone. Even the fates who weave the text could not unweave or access it. This was magic meant for me—solely for me. And ogres had destroyed it—solely to slight me.

One thing was confusing. Ogres were rather unsophisticated in their movements and actions. Few things were meticulous or detailed about them, and yet, as I moved from the earlier historical parts of the wall to the ruin of the current, flashes of images came with it and they...were in sequence.

They shouldn't have been. This thin pillar spoke of six months ago. Then one month prior, then a week. And yet...the sequence fit.

I did not believe that.

"Reckon ogre magic can restore it," the goblin attested. The big purple eyes looked up at me. "As ogre treasure can grant any wish."

Not every wish. It could not destroy the tree of life. It could not revive or kill fairy kings and queens and that was because of this blasted wall. An anchor in time that refused all manipulations.

My feet took me to the final pillar and the image of the massive ogre that flashed before me, smirking.

This was still magic—my magic. Rage seeped into my gut and threatened to break me in two.

I reached out a hand to touch the stone but the goblin wisely stopped me. "Oh-ha! Sir, you'd force magic against its will?"

My fingertips stopped mere inches from the stone wall. The yellow and orange of it stood out against the snow.

Force was a thing of humans. Creatures of the forest found already formed structures and took shelter there, be it a cave or a tree. Humans chopped down living trees, upended dormant boulders, ripped out the soil and mixed it with all manner of things, all to build a house where all they did was sleep.

So much destruction for something so basic.

No. Humans did no celebrations nor dances to coax rainfall humbly. Instead, they dammed off rivers, rerouted water, dug wells to reveal things intended to remain hidden.

Nothing was quite as perverse as man.

I reminded myself that I was no longer human. That was why, instead of forcing the land to release my power, I'd sought to answer it, negotiate. Tearing my magic out of the ground would give me my abilities, but it would damage the land hellbent on retaining it.

All this I knew...yet my hand didn't lower from that broken wall.

Finally, temptation won out and I made the excuse, "Just for a moment," then pressed my palm there.

The vision to fill me had laughter.

I was back in that cage, staring at the ecstasy in the princess's face. Then there was a peck on my lips and the promise of, "Later."

"Knowing my luck," I'd said, "I'll walk away much like the goblins, well and adequately tricked."

She pinched me in the neck for my trouble.

Slowly, I rotated my head to face her. "Ow."

The squinting eyes widened. "Sorry. Did that really hurt?" My grin had her fuming. "Oh. You...."

"Cut them down."

Ah, the elf of the hour.

More than once, I'd gazed at an elf and wondered if it was one of Manoj's earlier failed attempts of making a fairy. Elves had no wings and matched us in lengthy bodies, but everything was long. Long ears, long nose, long fingers, long necks. Honestly, it was like a beautiful fairy had been plucked then flattened under a rock before life was breathed into it again and it was set free. Even their eyebrows were over exaggeratedly high.

Their skin was also flesh like humans, not tiny little freckles of fairy dust like us.

Each jerking and near fall of my cage, a direct contrast to the princess's smooth descent, had me thinking of the goblin's words about clothing.

If unsightliness meant hiding parts of us, then these elves should have worn something from head to toe. Even their nails hooked.

While I took a fall in my final journey to the ground, the princess had ample time to put her clothes back on.

The cage doors opened and the elf king, the smallest of them all, looked between us.

I understood his confusion.

"The fairy king...and queen?" His head turned again and again, his cat-shaped eyes sliding from her to me. "How? This is a trick. Why are you together?"

My thoughts were to argue but he found interest elsewhere and I looked down to find the princess holding part of my kilt for comfort. Upon seeing our scrutiny, she immediately let go.

"This is a trick," the elf king said. "It's a trick."

I had to think fast—perhaps it was too fast and brash when I leaned back against my cage, crossed my feet at the ankles, and drawled, "Come now, Bobo. There's nothing wrong with us paying you a visit. Now is there?"

Understandably, the elf bristled. "Stop saying my name!"

Bobore was his name and I'd given over half of his name to put him on alert while confirming my identity. I had been the one to trick him into this reign after all.

"I still don't believe this trick," Bobore attested. "The fairy king and queen being together...is impossible."

A tall elf leaned close while still eyeing us. "Ogres, sir?"

That one word had Bobore thoughtful.

Internally, I sighed. They were still at it. Ogres, able to disguise themselves as any creature, disturbed the elves greatly. The reason for this was very simple—elves were morons.

And the bigger they were, the dumber, too.

It wasn't their fault, and it wasn't even a careless characterization. It was literally fact.

Elves were skillful. That, combined with intellect was a dangerous combination—they'd resemble humans in their mischief. Therefore, they traded broad thinking for physical adaptability. Tree elves, water elves, hell garden elves, even shoe elves. It didn't matter. Set with a task, they'd perfect it within hours if not minutes.

But they couldn't think beyond that goal.

Good for tyrants like myself who could set them in motion and not fret. Bad for poor bastards like the elves who could still be well into a task without realizing that their fairy king had won the fight faster than he'd anticipated and couldn't be bothered to go through the trouble of bringing them off a mission—something that could take days.

So there'd been a time in the past where I'd set my enchantments on those workers dedicated to their task and not my words.

As such, they were very vulnerable in their set assignment and...a time or two, a group of ogres had come by, those poor busy elves, still set in their tasks, were so obsessed with completing it that they could only watch as their hard-working companion was snatched up from left to right and swallowed. Beyond feeling terror, more than one elf would turn back to the comfort of whatever they were doing and await their end as well.

It was rather tragic really. But until today, I'd never consider it anything but stupid and...funny.

Therefore, the elves were understandably paranoid. And they feared the ogres especially, even though ogres had no reason to go underground to reach elves.

But creatures living each and every day in fear started to turn into strange beings. My tricking Bobore into being their king had both saved them and condemned them to second-guessing.

He knew very well who I was. And he knew who the princess was, all of Fae blood would recognize us in this form.

The problem was...he couldn't convince his people of that. For a moment, I'd wager that he could not convince himself.

"We will go to the mirror," Bobore affirmed.

All elves wooed and awed in agreement.

I, slowly losing patience, took the opportunity to add two more stones to the pot before being ushered out.

A hand slipped into mine and I remembered the princess, finally. "Where are they taking us?"

"To the one thing ogres hate," I explained. "Mirrors."

She blinked at me. Must I really explain it all?

"Ogres can restore life but hate all reflections of it. A doll, even a drawing—"

"Or a mirror?"

"The best they can do is a reflection in the water as that is rarely steady. They cannot gaze directly at all other mimicry of life, though. And definitely not a mirror."

As we followed the narrow hall, the princess drew closer to me. Part of me wanted to push her away, just a bit, just enough to convince these damn elves of who we were.

The surprise in her expression made me change my mind. Instead, I pulled her close, resting my left arm around her waist as we walked.

"It must be quite a mirror," she muttered.

We left the dirt packed hall and emptied into a massive room. 'Quite a mirror' was an understatement. In the center, stood one long mirror which stretched to the ceiling but that wasn't all. Broken mirrors hung all around, all floating on their own with no tethers.

Bobore said, "Go on into the middle."

Unlikely. I even caught the princess's hand before she could foolishly comply.

"We don't deal in mirrors or magics or anything of that nature." I ignored the collective gasp from the elves. They could keep gasping; we weren't going to stare into any damn mirrors. So, I reached up, plucked one sharp mirror shard from the air, and held it up to both myself and then the princess. "There. We aren't ogres. Now show us the proper respects as king and queen."

That vision faded and life came back to me. I marched to the shield and reached under the sleeping princess to pluck out the thing that had impaled me. It was the same shard.

"What in the...?"

The ground shook and the goblin hurried to my side. "Sir, you shouldn't force the magic."

My eyes stayed fixed on what had almost killed me. Slowly, it slid to the princess who slept sound. When I finally turned to look at the broken wall again, I sucked in a deep breath and made up my mind.

Manoj or my memories?

I marched back to that wall and slammed my hand against it.