Snow felt Darion's breath on her ear as he leaned over and whispered "No matter what, stay in the tree." She turned to look at him, but couldn't see him beside her. She squinted at where she thought he ought to be in mild confusion – surely no-one, fae or otherwise, could blend into the night so perfectly.

She turned in surprise when she heard his voice from the road.

"What brings you so deep into the wood, so late at night, weary traveler?" It was clearly Darion speaking, but his voice sounded different. It was deeper than she thought his voice normally was, and far richer. It seemed like a symphony of voices, all on the same pitch, but vibrating with different timbre and tone. It moved purposefully, from pitch to pitch and note to note with the deliberate separation of a harpsichord and smoothness of a violin, it cut through the night sounds like a trumpet, yet somehow seemed softer than the quietest of bells. Snow had never heard anything like it.

Apparently, neither had the travelers. They all appeared arrested, caught in the echo of his words as they looked off under the trees further down the road than the tree Snow was perched in, presumably where Darion stood. Even the horse pulling the cart had stopped, unbidden.

After a moment of silence, Darion continued, "After all, such an activity can be dangerous to the unprepared." Once again, his voice was hypnotically beautiful, and it took Snow several beats after he had finished speaking to realize the threat he had implied.

The bad feeling she had gained earlier worsened, and she shifted positions and strained toward where the people were staring trying to get a glimpse of Darion. She felt that she would better understand his purpose if she could only see him. As she did so, she vaguely noticed that the people on the road were responding, but then she finally caught sight of him, and all her thoughts of the people fled.

Darion was burning. There was no other way to describe it, though it was unlike any other fire she had seen. Darkness had wrapped itself around him like a cloak, deep purples and blues and greys seemed to climb and swirl about him, glancing off his hair, vest and eyes, which seemed to have deepened into endless pools of darkness.

He wore his dark power like a crown and seemed to rest almost casually against the trunk of the tree. Almost casually. The wide smile that looked welcoming at first glance was purely predatory and visibly straining against the mockery it held back.

At the sight, Snow nearly fell out of the tree in shock. She had never imagined such a cruel smile on Darion's face, and it looked and felt wrong. Fake. A lie. Except that fae could not tell lies.

The sound of steel being drawn drew Snow's attention back toward the travelers just in time for her to catch the last few words they said. She had lost track of the conversation, though she was pretty sure they had exchanged a few sentences. Despite her lapse in concentration, what she heard was enough alone to make her wish she were back at the house.

"-ing Fae can't keep your shiny swords in your sheaths around our people and our roads, we'd be happy to make you." The guard who had spoken was advancing toward Darion, sword drawn, and his partner a few steps behind him. The man leading the cart was rummaging around in his sack.

Darion was laughing.