Blackfeather Woods she is the fairies' midwife, and she comes

He could be bluffing. But he's not.

As soon as the answer comes, Megara fixes her stare on his face, drifting slowly to his exposed fangs before meeting the icy gaze again. What do you know of my sister? she asks, her voice like a drill cloaked in velvet. Soft, but insistent. Melonii? Mephala? Are these names familiar to you?

There is an underlying excitement to her tone that she cannot quite suppress. After all this time, it still excites her to find others familiar with her way of life, even by assimilation or conquest. The world is a lot smaller than she thought it to be, as a child. It is a fact that never ceases to delight her.