I once tried to get a normal job.


    “And what are your skills?” asked the dryad in front of me, her lovingly long green wings fluttering behind her.


    Nothing like mine, torn and grey.


    “Um,” I said, “wielding the dagger?”


    Turns out that wasn’t the correct answer for the job of a forest keeper. So that’s how I wound up here.


    I look around myself.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Under me, bodies of other fae are piled up. I stand above them all, victorious, my dark cape flutters behind me, hiding my frail moth-like wings, ripped and fragile. My gray skin shines in the sunlight, barely withstanding it. Short red hair is nested atop my head, covering my little horns.


    I am so much smaller than all of them, yet they are on the floor, and I stand victorious.


    A pixie. They were beaten by a pixie.


    Ten of competitors, one winner. Who will be the next personal guard of the Spring Lord?


    It’s me.


    “Show yourself,” the Lord commands me.


    I smile and pull my hood down, then look at him.


    There is a gasp between the gathered fey lord and ladies.


    “A changeling!” someone screams.


    “A member of the Unseelie Court!” Another shocked yell.


    I laugh.


    My name is Nyx.


    Do not forget me.


    Please.