"I accept," Sargon said at last, his calm voice slicing through the silence that followed.
"…"
For a moment, no one moved or breathed. Then—
"Yes!"
A chorus of cheers erupted from the gathered fairies. Their voices shimmered like tiny bells in the air, full of relief and excitement.
Sargon blinked, momentarily speechless as he watched the six fairies who had first met him bounce and whirl in delight. Even Vidia, usually cool and aloof, exhaled a long, quiet breath, her taut wings relaxing at last.
And Clarion? Even the fairy queen's serene gaze softened for a brief heartbeat before her calm mask returned.
"Well, that is most excellent," she said, smiling gently as her golden light flickered warmly around her.
Sargon gave a slight shake of his head and returned the smile. "No, thank you for inviting me. I'm a stranger here, yet you're offering me a place to belong. That means more than you know."
Clarion's smile deepened. "You're very welcome, Sargon. Now, shall we return to Pixie Hollow? You can fly, can't you?" she asked, gesturing gracefully to his vast, dark wings.
He gave a half-shrug — and the wings mirrored him perfectly. "Honestly? Not a clue. I just got these, and while I've had wings before, they weren't like these."
He stretched them experimentally. The black feathers unfurled like the night itself — immense, magnificent — and when he gave a single testing flap…
WHOOOSH!
A powerful gust blasted through the clearing, sending fairies and sparrowmen tumbling through the air in a flurry of startled yelps and sparkling dust.
Sargon froze mid-motion, eyes wide. "Oops! Sorry, everyone!"
Tinker Bell, hair tousled and eyes wide, brushed her fringe aside with a breathless laugh. "We're okay!"
The others quickly echoed her, though a few were still blinking in astonishment. A single flap — and he had nearly blown them all away.
Clarion coughed delicately into her hand, trying to hide her awe. "Ahem… yes, I'd say you'll need some practice with those. They're quite… powerful."
'Powerful' was an understatement. Even Vidia, who prided herself on speed and control, stared with open fascination.
The speed he must reach with wings like that… she thought, barely containing her excitement.
"Yeah," Sargon said with a slight chuckle, folding the wings behind his back again. "Right now I feel like a baby bird learning how to fly."
He wasn't exaggerating. In his mind, he knew it had been less than a day since he'd remade an entire world, transcended into godhood, and then somehow ended up here. His body — and his very soul — were still adjusting.
Before he could dwell further, two voices suddenly rang out together.
"I'll teach him!"
Heads whipped around as Fawn and Vidia shouted at the same time, glaring at one another in challenge.
"Err…" was all Sargon managed before the tension flared.
Fawn zipped forward, landing squarely in front of Vidia with her arms crossed and amber eyes blazing. "What do you mean you'll do it? I'm the animal-talent fairy! His wings are like those of a creature — that makes me the best teacher!"
Vidia scoffed, folding her arms with a smirk. "Hah! He's not an animal, he's a flier. The fastest fairy alive should be teaching him, not someone who'll have him crawling like a tortoise."
"Grrr!" Fawn growled, leaning in until their foreheads nearly touched. Sparks seemed to snap in the air between them.
Before it escalated further, two large hands settled gently on their shoulders, pulling them apart as if they weighed nothing.
They turned—and froze.
"Wha—oh. Sargon." Fawn's indignation melted into flustered panic the moment she met his eyes.
Her heart began racing; her wild thoughts tripped over themselves. Calm down, Fawn! This is about teaching him to fly, not about… mating ritu— bonding time! Bonding time!
Meanwhile, Vidia's sharp mind, normally as quick as lightning, slowed to a crawl. The warmth of his hand on her shoulder sent her focus scattering to the wind.
"As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm," Sargon said mildly, his voice steady but firm, "did either of you think to ask me before deciding who gets to teach me?"
His red eyes flickered faintly, a subtle glow that made both fairies instinctively lower their heads. The brief flash of power carried a weight they couldn't explain — something vast and ancient.
"S-sorry…" Fawn mumbled, twisting her fingers together.
"Y-yeah… sorry," Vidia echoed softly.
"Good." His tone lightened again, and that disarming smile returned. "Next time, just ask, alright? And how about this — both of you teach me tomorrow?"
He patted their heads affectionately as he spoke.
The effect was immediate. Fawn's wings quivered; Vidia's breath hitched. They both stared up at him with dazed eyes, cheeks tinted pink.
"Good." Sargon nodded, turning back toward Queen Clarion, completely unaware of the quiet chaos he left in his wake.
Silvermist, watching from the side, unconsciously reached up and touched her own hair — the exact spot he'd patted the others — her eyes shimmering with an emotion she didn't fully understand.
The rest of the fairies exchanged looks of intrigue. Few beings could calm a quarrel between fairies mid-argument. Fewer still could make Vidia blush.
Clarion, meanwhile, regarded Sargon with a small, thoughtful smile.
"Queen Clarion," Sargon said suddenly, his tone shifting to curiosity. "I've noticed that you all release golden dust when you fly — and it coats your wings and clothes. Do you think that dust could help me, at least for now?"
"It's Pixie Dust," she explained kindly. "It's what lets us fly — and do much more. There's no harm in trying."
She gestured to a nearby scout fairy, who quickly handed over a small pouch. Taking a pinch, Clarion floated up to Sargon and sprinkled it lightly over his head.
"A little pinch is all you need."
The shimmering gold drifted down his body like sunlight — and then… nothing.
The glow faded instantly.
Sargon blinked. "…Maybe a little more than a pinch?"
Clarion frowned thoughtfully, then nodded. "Perhaps."
She emptied the entire pouch over him. Nothing.
The fairies began murmuring in confusion — until Clarion's instincts flared. Wordlessly, she signaled for more. One pouch, then another, then all of them. Even she added some of her own, dimming her radiant light in the process.
The final cloud of gold dust drifted down, and at last—
A faint purple glow rippled across his form… then vanished.
Sargon sighed softly, his smile tinged with weary amusement.
Rosetta fluttered closer, worry in her green eyes. "What's the matter, sugar? D'ya know what's wrong?"
He met her gaze with that gentle smile, and the redhead promptly turned a shade to match her hair.
"Yes," he said quietly. "It seems my wounds followed me here. The Pixie Dust isn't giving me flight — it's healing me."
A ripple of understanding spread through the crowd. The fairies exchanged wide-eyed looks.
Healing… from what?
Sargon couldn't help but marvel at himself. He'd assumed his adaptation boon had restored him completely, but clearly, even his soul bore the scars of his last battle. The dust was mending something profound — something far beyond flesh.
Still, the realization raised another question — and an unsettling one.
The amount of dust they'd used… was enough to power three airships for a day and a half. And it had barely made him glow.
The implications hit everyone at once.
How much Pixie Dust would it take to make him fly? How strong was he, truly?
Before anyone could voice it, the air shimmered.
Dozens of tiny blue lights streaked through the sky, whistling like shooting stars, before stopping abruptly in front of Sargon.
The fairies gasped. The lights twirled and danced around him in joyful spirals, their glow painting his dark form in celestial hues.
Even Clarion was struck speechless.
"Pretty lights," Silvermist breathed, eyes wide with wonder.
The others nodded in silent awe. Sargon looked ethereal — like something that had stepped straight out of the heavens.
"Oh? What are these little fellas?" he asked, curiosity glinting in his ruby eyes. They looked familiar somehow, but his mind, still fogged from exhaustion, couldn't place them.
Without hesitation, he reached a finger toward one.
"No! Sargon, don't!" three voices cried at once.
But it was too late.
His fingertip brushed the glowing orb—
—and it burst apart into a cloud of blue dust, latching onto his skin.
A chain reaction followed. Every orb around him exploded in kind, and within a heartbeat, he was engulfed in a cocoon of radiant azure light.
Then—
FWOOOSH!
He was gone. Shot across the sky like a comet, a trail of blue fire marking his path.
His direction?
Pixie Hollow.