Silver Dawning

The parallel world of the Fey. It’s colorful.

The parallel world of the Fey. It’s colorful.

It’s a world filled with vibrant colors and impossible magics. Jewels line the riverbeds, but don’t think of this place as some kind of deranged Middle Ages rip-off.

The Fey are actually heavily into technology, and their world reflects that.

Here’s a description of one of their main cities, Silvermoon, from Half-Shell Prophecies:

Tall, curved towers sported intricate glass and ebony ornamentation, somehow organic and Gothic and sleek all at once. Statues, flowers, and entire histories played out in hints of shadow and silhouette. There were no fuel-run vehicles here; lots of animals—plenty of them flying, big enough to carry a couple people at a time—and all over, everywhere, a mishmash of Fey and plenty of other Peoples of the Earth on foot.

The Fey need other people to take magic from, so commerce was always welcome. The sled we rode flew low enough to give me a glimpse of Naga and Naiads, of large, red-skinned Shadow’s Breath (the same species as Bran, though he didn’t deign to look their direction), kelpies and wulvers and a couple of dragons. Trolls, gorgons, things I couldn’t even identify—fish-headed things and large, shy octopus-creatures who moved slowly and nervously through crowds of much smaller shoppers.

And of course, the Fey. In this wildly varied population, they still shone.

None of them bothered looking human here. Skin and hair gleamed in all colors, makeup drawing attention to eyes, lips, and those pointed ears—ears as long as their forearms and so thin that the double suns shone through them, making them glow. Steam-punk kimonos seemed to be the “in” style right now, along with what I might call Han Solo boots. And of course, there was the walk.

You’ve never seen allure until you’ve seen Fey in their element.

Magic sparked off their fingers and long hair, glimmered on skin and lips. They were mesmerizing, like firecrackers in a field of nightwheat. And the music they made….

Not all of them made it, of course. It was mostly small groups here and there, every other city block corner, but every song they played complemented the rest. No matter where you turned, it all seemed like one great symphony, unending, connected, an ouroboros of sound.

There were guards, too, lots of them. These Fey didn’t smile; their long hair was braided back, and they wore slim metal guards to protect their paper-thin ears.

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