Present day

Fluttering, flying as fast as their pixie wings would allow. It took Skif most of the morning to travel Oberon's Wall looking for Bedwyr. Per the norm, the warrior crawled out of a pile of temporary lovers. 

Bedwyr tied back his well-maintained white hair and stood at the door, leaning against its arch. He was topless, waving and grinning as they all left his home.

Skif had learned that the warrior before them was a harlot among the Twilight Fae. 

"Good morning, Bedwyr; there has been another accident." Skif fluttered softly before him, pushing away the thoughts of Bedwyr and themselves entwined.

As the last of the day's bed partners wandered out of sight over the small bridge not far from his home, Bedwyr let the charming smile go and focused on Skif. 

"True beauty, do I see before me, Lady Skif?" the warrior bowed before taking Skif's tiny hand and softly kissing its back. 

With a short breath and hiding the blush, Skif pulled back her hand and landed on the drystone wall of Bedwyr's garden, letting the thoughts of bedtime activities with the handsome Fae subside.

"My apologies; your timing is unfortunate. We had just finished…" he began, but Skif raised her hand and looked at him, "Do not finish that sentence."

Skif took several deep breaths and righted herself.

"Apology accepted. Did you hear what I said? There has been another accident." 

Bedwyr looked serious momentarily and took his jacket from the hook at the side of his door. Next were the long, soft leather boots. Striking to any who looked upon him, intensely blue eyes and nightshade skin. 

Skif had always had a crush on Bedwyr but never acted on it, putting it down to his aura. The Twilight Fae always had an aura, a purpose or urge, some called it. It just so happens that Bedwyr's is lust. 

"Is it serious?" he asked, strapping his sword belt and checking the silver longsword before sheathing it. 

Skif flinched at the sight of the blade. The Fae are not fond of silver and less so of blades made of the stuff.

"Serious enough that they called the Sunlit." Skif folded her arms, and her wings fluttered, ready to lead on.

Bedwyr looked at the ground and then checked the stars; Skif saw that he was checking something but said nothing. 

"Onwards, Lady Skif." he hit the charming smile again.

For a second, Skif wavered.

"Not until you rein it in; we can't have every soldier along Oberon's Wall rutting whilst on duty." Her arms were crossed, and she looked like a mother scorning a child. 

"A fair point." Bedwyr took a long breath and hummed a song from his childhood. 

Immediately, Skif relaxed and felt far more comfortable. Wings fluttering, she headed back along the path of the wall. 

As the pair travelled, the soldiers keeping watch would wave down at Bedwyr. Some would salute, others nod and smile. He has always been popular among them. At first, Skif thought it was for his aura, but he learned Bedwyr was a bit of a folk hero during excursions beyond the wall. 

The soldiers always spoke of his martial prowess, telling tales of how he faced down dozens of the Gloamings single-handedly or when he dragged them to safety while under arcane attack.

For the ego that was Bedwyr, he never accepted credit for such tales, always playing them down. Skif had questioned many times but could not garner any truths.

Despite the circumstances, Skif enjoyed the trip back and forth along the wall. To one side was the massive defensive stone creation, a last defence, if you will, against the Gloaming. To the other was a stretching forest filled with homes for the Fae. Twilight and Sunlight live among one another. 

Great glass houses were twisted and built among the branches and trunks—bridges across rivers stretched for miles, lakes among the valleys cutting through the forests. The realm of the Fae, Talondia, was beautiful. 

The glass structures lit up and sparkled with a thousand rays of Sunlight that gave way to the silvery purple hues of starlight. Skif had never known why the Gloaming was so hard to destroy.

"Skif!" Siren shouted from above. 

Freezing mid-flight, the Pixie blushed again twice in one evening. 

"Oh, hello, Siren." Skif tried to hide the awkwardness she was now feeling.

Siren descended the stone stairs and half-jogged over.

"Hi, you left pretty quickly. I forgot your bracelet." Siren pulled a bracelet of leather and wooden runes from a pocket beneath her dark leather armour. 

As she handed it to Skif, it shrunk to accommodate the Pixie's size.

"Thank you. I thought I'd lost it. I can't stop; we have things to do," she said, starting to move away.

"Yeah, sure, no worries. I'm free in the morning if you wanna pick up where we left off?" Siren looked for any sign of a positive answer.

"I am sure Lady Skif will be available for the morning's activities. But for now, I require her assistance with a matter of import." Bedwyr politely excused Skif for keeping flying.

"Of course, my apologies, Bedwyr. I did not know it was you she was with." Siren bowed low and, with a last look towards the distant Skif, scaled the stairs to continue their guard.

Once Bedwyr had caught up to Skif, he couldn't hide his smile. Skif grabbed a pebble and threw it at him. It only increased the smile that spread from ear to ear. 

"They were cute, you should revisit."

"How do you know they were wearing a helmet?"

"It's what I do, Skif, it's what I do."

"You are unbearable." Skif threw another pebble at him.

Now, crossing a bridge that took them away from the wall and into a nearby village, Bedwyr could see this was the place Skif was leading him to.

There was a crowd around the village's central tree. Most folk had left their homes to see what was going on. 

"Excuse me, please, move out of the way!" Skif escalated her requests quickly.

Bedwyr nodded to the four Twilight who were facing away from the commotion. It was as if they refused to look inward. 

As he made it to the middle, he saw why. As Skif had mentioned previously, they had called Sunlight to assist.

She was massive and heavily muscled, with pale green skin and small tusks protruding from her lower jaw. Her short, pointed ears were covered in fur and leather, except for her massive arms. The tattoos told Bedwyr what she was. 

Thick black braided hair sat like a mane. She knelt beside a Dryad. They looked childlike compared to the Sunlight Fae, but they were apparently dying. 

Bedwyr also knelt beside the Dryad. Trickles of blood flowed from their mouth down their cheeks. But a moment later, they had faded. Their skin turns to dry bark and crumbles in the hands of their supposed healer. 

Bedwyr put a hand on her massive shoulder.

"Sometimes stories end," he spoke softly. Ignoring the discomfort of her presence. 

"This one's story ended early." Her voice was deep and powerful. 

Both Fae stood, and she was taller despite Bedwyr being taller than most. He felt her aura like that of a hammer hitting an anvil. Strength radiated from her. 

Skif fluttered among the crowd, shooing them away and speaking with the village elder, a Boggart of some years, requesting they arrange a worthy send-off for the deceased Dryad.

"How do you mean it ended early?" Bedwyr asked, confused. Only with the death of the Dryad's Spirit Tree could they genuinely die. 

She picked up the great sword, leaning against the tree, and it was quickly the size of a soldier on the wall. It appeared to weigh nothing in her hands as she placed it on her back by some magic or trick. 

"Their tree was taken from this life, the spirit of it broken."

"That seems highly unlikely. The Spirit Trees are deeper into the realm."

"So sure in your eyes on the wall that you don't believe an assassin could have passed by unnoticed," she scoffed.

"Typical of a Sunlight, why the immediate conflict? Surely we are past this. It has been many years since blades were drawn against one another." Bedwyr shifted his stance just in case. Albeit he didn't want to engage this titan in combat.

With a long, deep breath and a short growl, she relaxed, letting her shoulders drop a little. 

"Gwenhwyfar, but you can call me Gwyn, and I am sorry, forress I thought I could heal them."

"Shortness is not a word I will ever associate with you, my lady. I am Bedwyr. Some call me Bedi, but normally only when they see me as a friend, not a foe." He bowed and flashed his best charming smile. 

Gwyn couldn't help but smile, then looked angry with herself. 

"Don't even think about it, " she said as his aura reached her. In turn, she let her aura pour into him as a warning. 

"My apologies; sometimes it is a reflex to being in the presence of beauty."

"You can't help yourself, can you!" called Skif as she returned on the scene, giving Bedwyr a gentle clip around the ear as she fluttered past.

"I've spoken with the elders, and they will give them a proper send-off. Both in the morning and the evening, so all can pay respects. "

"Thank you," said Gwyn

"Yes, Skif, thank you." Bedwyr does not want to be outdone by the Sunlight. 

"You are a Soldier of Dusk?"

"And you are a Ray of Dawn, yes?"

Both gave looks that answered the other's question.

"We should seek out the Spirit Trees. I am told this is the second Dryad to perish in the last moon." Gwyn was looking away from the wall to the stretching forests. 

"It is, yes. You don't think the Gloamings are this side of the wall, do you?" Skif asked with a hint of fear in her tone.

"I think something is wrong with the Spirit Trees, Gloamings or not, it needs looking into," said Gwyn.

"Agreed, let us be on our way." Bedwyr flicked his jacket and was forest-bound.

"What am I reporting?" asked Skif, nervous at the thought of reporting that she had managed to instigate a Soldier of Dusk and a Ray of Dawn to leave the wall.

"Inform them that we must confirm that the Spirit Trees are healthy. We don't want our folk panicking now, do we?" Bedwyr responded smoothly.

"Wow." Gwyn rolled her eyes.

"What?"

Skif looked at him before turning and flying back towards Oberon's Wall.

Gwyn and Bedwyr walked for two days into the forest, passing the glass villages and giving nods and waves to the Fae that lived among them—knots of wood, windows, and glass decorations throughout the branches and leaves.

The pair talked little. The village Fae looked on in confusion as they watched one of Twilight and one of Sunlight. All Fae knew Soldiers of Dusk and Rays of Dawn marched Oberon's Wall every hour of every day. 

Watching out over lands beyond. Fending off the Gloamings and their creatures of grey violence. 

But the Fae also knew that the two factions did not get on—nobles of their domains, night and day, sun and moon. The Fae were the people of the two Courts, and they knew the rules. 

Gwyn always strode ahead, her chest out and shoulders back. She strode with a confidence that only being a Ray of Dawn gave. The thick-bladed great sword on her back moved with her, magically holding close to her as if sheathed.

It didn't bother Bedwyr; if anything, it made him smile, being further back and watching the deliberate gait of the warrior ahead and trying to make a point. Day and night, the pair moved in silence. The only words spoken to the Fae of the Glass are curious enough to come and say words of greeting or goodbye.

Beyond the villages of glass was a stretch of forest that none claimed as their own. A Freeland is a place where the laws of the Fae and Courts do not matter.

The pair stood at the edge of the treeline, staring intensely into the thick shadows and mists of the Forgotten Forest. 

"Are you trustworthy, Bedwyr of the Twilight?" Gwyn looked over her shoulder as the Bard approached.

"To some, most certainly, and to others, not even close. But what choice do you have, daughter of the Sunlight?" 

Gwyn felt a shiver up her spine. 

"Do you always speak like that?"

"Like what, dear lady?"

Gwyn turned on Bedwyr and grabbed him by the fitted tunic, lifting him six inches off the ground.

Their noses were touching. Bedwyr was calm and collected, his eyes searching those of Gwyn. Who was talking through gritted teeth?

"Like that," she growled, her eyes bright with white fire. 

The silence of the last couple of days had been frustrating, and now she was letting it out. 

Bedwyr let his usual smile fade. The toothy grin disappeared, and the tattoos all across his skin shimmered plum purple. His eyes were serious.

"I will allow this act of insult to pass as a mistake made. However, if you lay your hands upon my person again, you will lose them. Now put me down, and we can discuss our forward steps together." Bedwyr perfectly articulated his response to the aggression from the massive Gwyn.

No more than a heartbeat passed, and with a touch of humility, Gwyn let Bedwyr go. Her shoulders dropped a touch. 

"Sorry, I am worried for the Dryads and their Spirit Trees." She looked away awkwardly.

"Oh yes, A fine defensive display of worry. I take it that anger and frustration come easy to you?" he asked inquisitively. 

She looked surprised for a moment.

"As it happens, yes. But healing the Fae keeps the anger subdued, normally at least." Gwyn hadn't said it out loud until now. 

Bedwyr placed a slender hand on her shoulder. They sighed a little, then whispered.

"We all carry darkness, and we all carry light." he gave an elderly smile.

Gwyn looked at him, then burst into laughter, slapping her thigh hard enough to crack a tree. Bedwyr soon joined in, and a nearly bloody confrontation quickly sparked a new friendship.

The Twilight Fae watched Gwyn take the first steps into the Forgotten Forest, pushing aside thick overgrowth to make a path. Deep in his being, he felt she had an awe-inspiring tale to live. He then followed, whistling the tune to the song Brightest Blade.