"Auck-!"

Judal retched audibly, drawing the attention of a few passing strangers.

Whatever he had just bought from the corner store, it was absolutely not apple juice. He forced down the mouthful of foul liquid, his face contorted with disgust. The taste was vile, and the drink settled uncomfortably in his stomach, sloshing around enough to make him queasy.

He examined the bottle as he walked, looking first for some evidence of mold or mildew, and then glancing over the list of contents warily. Apple concentrate, water, and a handful of other common ingredients. There was nothing there to explain why one swig of the stuff made him want to empty his stomach.

"Weird." Judal muttered, and tossed the bottle into a trashcan on the corner as he passed.

Maybe he was just spoiled or something. Everything he'd eaten and drunk lately had come almost entirely from the courtyard garden and only traveled as far as Hakuryuu's hands in their tiny kitchen before being consumed. The last apple juice he'd had had been hand pressed by the fae himself.

Chefs were always talking about refined taste buds and whatnot, weren't they? And vegans and vegetarians couldn't go back to eating meat without warning either, or they'd make themselves sick. Maybe processed food just no longer agreed with him.

Judal's stomach settled from a roiling mess to a displeased gurgle as he walked, and he dismissed thoughts of his newfound tastes as it did. It didn't matter, really, he'd only bought the juice because he was out and didn't have anything on hand. This was just another strange occurrence to be brushed aside.

There were a lot of those, these days. Flowers blossoming under his fingertips, silver jewelry that seemed to follow him around the store while window shopping, only to end up in his pocket, freak storms that downed the city's power for almost six full hours. The world was full of inexplicable things, little mysteries that may or may not have anything to do with faeriekind. Too many, in fact, to consider all at once.

Becoming enamored with the realization that magic was real was all too easy, and the urge to look for it in everyday life was constant. At first, even Judal had kept his eyes wide, heart racing, hoping for a glimpse of that mysterious power in the mundane world around him. The truth was, though, it didn't really matter if magic was to be found or not.

Magic was subtle and tricky, it slipped in and out of the periphery of your vision, never quite luminous enough to be caught. Actually getting a good, solid look at it, like Judal had, was rare for human beings. So maybe the flower, the silver bracelet around his wrist, the storm, maybe they had all been magic. Or, maybe they were just coincidences. One could drive themselves mad trying to discern the difference between magic and happenstance.

Though returning to the topic of the storm, it had certainly caused a lot of trouble.

As the new year turned, the winter had bled from the city sluggishly, replaced with rising temperatures that oozed through the streets. The day of the storm, the weather forecast had been good. Nothing but blue skies and sunshine for the entire week, temperatures hiking up to the mid-sixties by Friday. Spring was tumbling in.

And then, from nowhere, the sky had roared like some angered beast. A clap of thunder so loud it seemed to almost physically shake the city rent the air, and then came the clouds. Rather than roll in, they seemed to simply blink into existence, dark as the night sky and heavy with rain. There had been one last warning snarl from the sky, then the clouds had simply opened.

Rain had come down in blinding sheets, smothering the noise of the city in the torrent. The radio announcer stopped tracking car accidents once it reached the double digits, and instead issued copious warnings about low visibility due to the storm. Thunder grumbled and wind howled, but Judal never did catch any streaks of lightning in the churning sky.

Hakuryuu had insisted they stay inside, and Judal wasn't about to argue with him, not with the weather like that. It fell to him to find ways to occupy himself and his uncharacteristically fractious lover. Apparently, Hakuryuu was not fond of storms, though he denied it when it was brought up.

There had been cooking, which involved a lot of bumping into each other in the small kitchen and Judal making a nuisance of himself. The meals themselves were overly complex, drawn out in both the making and the partaking to waste a bit more time. Hakuryuu read aloud to Judal from whatever book happened to suit him at the moment, and then to himself when his lover dozed off, head in his lap.

They chatted, as they always did, about everything and nothing. Hours passed.

When the power went out, the apartment was dark enough that reading seemed ill-advised and trying to amuse themselves with conversation was growing dull. There were better things to do in the dark, Hakuryuu had murmured against Judal's ear. So they had retreated to the sanctuary of their bedroom, where the door barely managed to muffle the sound of the rain.

Sleep came in intervals, some intentional and some not. The rain didn't stop until late, late into the night, and they missed whenever the power came back on. In the morning, Hakuryuu had immediately gone to the courtyard to assess the damage, and Judal took the opportunity to listen to the radio and check the fridge.

"…and local meteorologists are still flummoxed by yesterday's storm; some are calling it an early season monsoon, but others say that it's an unprecedented meteorological event."

Judal had only been paying half attention to the droning voice of the radio announcer, more preoccupied with the contents of the fridge. But he caught bits and pieces.

"Flood warnings had to be issued to the entire county, but it appears that only the city was seriously affected by the storm. In fact, reports outside the city limits claim to have had perfect weather."

Some of the perishables had, unfortunately, spoiled.

It was easy to separate the items in the fridge into what came from the garden and what came from the farmer's market, but itemizing any further than that was more Hakuryuu's department than Judal's. He had considered waiting for the prince to return upstairs to ask him what he wanted replaced, but then;

"…Extensive damage to personal and public property. Maintenance teams have been working since late last night in public parks and gardens, and police are monitoring traffic around affected roadways."

If concrete had been damaged by the downpour, the courtyard was probably not faring terribly well. Rather than disturb the likely distraught fae, Judal wrote him a note, left it where it would be found, and went out shopping on his own. ( He signed the note with a heart, because he was fucking adorable thank you very much, and it made him feel better about not kissing Hakuryuu before he left. )

The farmer's market wasn't open that day, unfortunately, so Judal had whipped out his phone and searched for the most pretentiously organic markets he could find. There weren't many that sounded like they would fit Hakuryuu's standards, so he had assumed it would be an easy trip. Naturally, following that thought, he wound up wandering around the city for hours.

For some reason, the map on his phone had been wrong multiple times that day. He had noticed his phone glitch here and there over the past few weeks, but hadn't thought much of it until that day. Maybe it was time for a new phone? But the map came from the internet, so he figured that couldn't be it.

Judal put it down to messed up power lines and moved on.

Eventually his phone got so frustrating that Judal pocketed it and just asked directions from random shopkeepers instead. This led to the rather unpleasant experience with the apple juice, and a lot more wrong turns through the city. His legs were tired, and he missed Hakuryuu.

By some turn of luck, not only did he actually manage to find one of the markets he had been looking for, but it also turned out to be just what he'd been hoping. It was set up in a huge warehouse, which had apparently been unaffected by the storm, and was a monthly market that stayed open for two weeks at a time. Prices were higher, no doubt because securing a booth was more expensive, but it didn't matter. Judal was just happy to finally get the errand over with.

Most things on his list were replaced after one tour through the market, and a second round had his stomach growling. He hadn't had breakfast, or lunch by this point, and he finally broke down and bought himself food.

"Oh thank god." he mumbled to himself, mouth half-full of quiche. Apparently, his senses weren't so far gone that flaky crust and eggy filling were off the table.

Judal scarfed down the quiche and drank a bottle of fresh milk to wash it down. The milk was sweet, fresh, and heavy, even better than the stuff they usually bought. Hakuryuu loved fresh milk, and Judal had been craving it recently too, so he doubled back to buy a jug of it, never mind how heavy it was going to be.

Laden with groceries and feeling accomplished, Judal set out in the direction of home. As he meandered through the streets, he considered whether to direct himself towards a bus stop or the train station. The train was underground, which made an odd sense of claustrophobia hover in the back of his mind, but the bus… For some reason, getting into either vehicle didn't seem appealing.

I'm gonna regret walking. he thought, already past both modes of public transit.

The bags were heavy, and after walking all day, his legs were starting to ache. But it wasn't unpleasant. Judal had never cared much for straining his body past its first whine of discomfort, yet lately he'd had the strangest desire to go wandering around. Walking, running, he'd even raced Hakuryuu back to the apartment after one of their outings.

( He had lost, but considering Hakuryuu was some kind of faerie warrior prince, that didn't really shock him. )

The walk home wasn't the worst thing in the world, and the day was crisp and clear. Around him, the city made its music out of car horns and sirens, the hustle and bustle a chaotic melody. His heart beat in time with the footsteps of the working class and business owners, and Judal smiled to himself as he strolled.

He breathed in deeply, tasting the acrid, familiar city on his tongue, and exhaled slowly.

It all happened very, very quickly.

Before he saw them, he felt their presence. A crushing weight on his lungs that clenched like fists around his insides.

Then, someone turned off the light.

A moment passed as Judal's eyes drifted upwards to the clouds overhead; ugly, low-hanging, angry. The sun had disappeared behind them, blotted out completely. But where had the neon shop lights gone, the faint glow of cell phone screens? His gaze descended, swept over the crowd in front of him; he saw the crosswalk signs, the storefronts, sparks flying from busted circuitry.

The world was not moving as it should have been. Judal was aware of life around him as if it were passing through a filter. If he focused, he could see people moving, register the passage of time, but as he stood there it seemed to cease to exist. Instead there was a muffled hum in the air, and the pounding of his heartbeat.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and instinctively, on some primal level, he was aware that he was being watched.

Finally, in a motion that felt like it took years rather than seconds, Judal turned his head.

In the time it took the image in front of his eyes to reach his brain, his mind rejected the whole experience. Like the first time he laid eyes on the courtyard, the image in his mind seemed to glitch. No, it said forcefully. All you see is an empty street. Except he knew that wasn't right, because it had been a busy, crowded street not a minute before.

No, his mind pleaded. It's empty. Empty empty empty!

It's not. Judal thought softly. It's not empty.

He blinked, and then it wasn't empty anymore.

People flickered back into existence; dog walkers and confused shopkeeps, students on their way home, mothers pushing strollers, men in suits looking at their watches. All existed through the filter from before, like time itself had ceased to function inside the specific bubble where Judal existed. Only, something else existed there as well. In this little crevice between reality and illusion, he was not alone.

They were incorrect, that was his first impression of them. They looked like men, if you wanted to call them anything, and yet they also looked so radically different that the definition of "man" needed to be stretched to its utmost limit to apply to them. Proportions were wrong; torsos too wide, waists too slim, arms far too long. One had an extra set altogether, and far too many eyes. Even at a distance, Judal could see the eyes; it was covered in them.

Where there were not eyes, there was skin of pure alabaster, white as marble; its hair swayed in a thick silver wave around it, as if suspended in water. The other had skin of mottled green and flaxen hair that tumbled about its face and shoulders in coils and waves laced with leaves, and flowers, and things that moved.

They stood on two legs, but they towered above the crowd, ten feet tall or more. For every inch of them that was wrong, there was another that was beautiful. Not the kind of beauty that made one swoon, but the kind that drove mortal men to frothing madness. They were not meant to be seen, not here, not on this side of the veil. They did not belong, and reality rebelled around them for it.

Judal was aware of his breathing, his heartbeat, the sweat beading from his palms. Instinct pounded on the inside of his skull, but its voice was muted. He had already made the mistake of meeting their gazes, holding them long enough for their endless, intricate, enigmatic eyes to draw him in. The world spun before him in lights and colors and threads, the pulse of life and the stillness of death.

And it was then, in a moment where everything was still, that a single raindrop plummeted from the sky above. It fell, twisting and churning through the atmosphere, shifting and shrinking and morphing until it landed. The droplet was cold when it hit Judal's cheek, jarring. It made him blink.

For just one split second, their gazes were broken. His mind returned to him and instinct howled with desperation unlike any other.

He ran.

Rain cascaded from the heavens once more, only this time, Judal could hear the roars in the thunder. There were voices, shrieks on the wind and murmurs in the rain, they pounded at his eardrums all vying for his attention. He ignored them all, he ran, and he did not look back.

The city became a blur of colors around him; streaks of orange and yellow from taillights, blue from streetlamps, red from stop signs. Behind him, glass burst and people gasped as bulb after bulb blew out, snuffing out the light. The further he went, the darker the city became, until everything was blacks and grays and steely blues awash in the rain.

Somehow, Judal knew that if he stopped he would be lost. He didn't know where he was anymore, he was ducking down side streets he had never seen and racing through alleys he didn't know existed. Concrete streets became a labyrinth, and he was without a ball of yarn to lead him back the way he came. Yet, he was aware of a pull, something hooked behind his ribs that dragged him in certain directions so long as his destination was clear in his mind.

Judal did not think of his pursuers, or the world around him, or anything at all. All thoughts were cast from his mind, discarded in great heaps and piles until there was only the image of his home. The clearer the image became, the harsher the tugging in his ribs, urging him on and on and on.

Something lashed around his calf.

Judal cried out as his legs went out from under him, and the next thing he knew he was on the cold concrete. He was disoriented, the world was still trying to move in blurs of light and falling rain, but he was still. Faintly, he was aware of something slithering around his ankle like a hungry python. Fingers dug into the concrete and he pulled himself, dragging until his body snapped from its shock and allowed him to scramble away.

The world seemed hazy, like something was being pulled over his eyes. Magic, his mind told him, because it recognized the shiver in the air and the buzzing in his ears. But magic didn't work quite the same in the mortal realm as it did in Sidhe, so whatever was trying to be done, it didn't quite work.

Unfortunately, it did enough.

Judal screamed as something sharp dug into his forearm. Blearily, he realized that it had been aiming for his neck, that he had raised his arm on instinct alone to defend himself. It was… a snake? No, a vine, no—a branch? The rain made it so difficult to see. Whatever it was it had sunk fangs into him that burned and ached, blotted his returning coherency with pain- Judal lashed out with a snarl he didn't know he was capable of and wrenched it off.

Blood spilled from his punctured flesh, only to be washed away by the rain. Something was crawling on the ground towards him, morphing, misshapen, taking on a more solid form as it heaved itself across the pavement. Judal didn't give it time to reach him. He leapt to his feet, and as he did he felt his skin split open in several places, as if cut by invisible blades.

The pain was excruciating, like a papercut but a thousand times worse. Judal's mind was a jumbled mess, the city was unfamiliar around him. Panic clutched at his throat, sucking the breath from his lungs until his head felt fuzzy.

Something burst in his chest. Something crimson and vicious that he hadn't felt since he was very small, cowering in corners and shadows from men and women six times his size with fists that left bruises people pretended not to see. It boiled and stirred and spread through him, tearing the clutter from his mind and clenching around his heart until it stopped racing.

Another invisible blade licked his cheek, and blood mixed with rainwater as it slid across his skin. For a second time, Judal fled.

He did not need to see the creatures to know that they were following him. Pain ricocheted around his body, but he never slowed. The blur around him did not return, but it didn't have to, because the clarity was even more visceral than before. Slowly, the streets became familiar, the path more clear.

Clawed hands reached for him and caught the end of his shirt, the tail of his braid, the curve of his heel. His blood ran into the sewers with the water. The city's heartbeat filled his head.

A sob wrenched itself from his throat at the sight in front of him. His street, the one he had lived on since he turned seventeen, with its cracked sidewalk and faded paint on old building fronts. The threshold was within reach. All he had to do was run. All he had to do was move.

They were just behind him. He could smell wildflowers and blood, a pungent mix of life and death that permeated the air and made it hard to breathe. Every step felt like a mile, but he was almost there. He was almost safe.

The courtyard gate was closed. Waterlogged flowers drooped on chartreuse vines, spun around the iron bars in a pretty lacework.

"Sorry—" he gasped, and wrenched the gate open.

The vines tore. Flowers fell, crushed and scattered beneath his feet. Something… burned.

And then Judal was stumbling through the gateway, into the courtyard. Relief flooded his chest at the same moment energy seemed to drain from his body. His steps faltered and he collapsed, catching himself on aching hands on the hard ground.

There was a sound. It cut through the rain. Like water hissing as it hit a hot pan. The hair on the back of Judal's neck rose and he turned his head.

The two fae ducked and stepped through the gate.

A bottomless pit opened in his stomach. His heart refused to beat. The threshold, the invisible barrier which had started all of this, pulled at the fae until it had what it wanted, and then it let them go. Leaving them inside.

The green one was smiling, delighted, and the other's countless eyes were staring unblinkingly down at him. Judal felt cold with fear, he knew he needed to move, to get inside, to do something—

He couldn't move.

There was a name lodged in the back of his throat. Judal willed himself to say, or not to say, he wasn't sure which would be worse and as the indecisiveness clouded his mind—

A wave of cold blanketed the courtyard. The rain fell on a thin sheet of ice, Judal's breath fogged in front of his eyes. A familiar shiver passed down his spine.

"What," the prince of UnSeelie court snarled through bared teeth. "Do you think you are doing?!"