High atop the bough of the tallest viridian tree sat a wise gremlin priestess. She listened to the birds and the wildlife below without the desire to interfere with nature’s splendor. It had been a cold and bitter winter even though the weather should have been warmer, considering that it was springtime. Far to the south was the castle of Bordum, surrounded by a large village. It was modest for a human capital. Around the farthest outskirts the grain silos could be seen stretching their shadowy fingers over the gateway bridges. Her agile body allowed her to make a hovel amongst the tree tops.

The humans went unaware of the magical creatures all around them. For the most part they simply could not suspend their disbelief and went blind to their presence. If they ventured too far into forests, they would find themselves victims to hungry demon wolves and goblin tribes. Every so often she would cast a spell of omnisight and listened to their trivialities whispering in the wind. The voices were like a gentle breeze to her shriveled ears.

Human voices would come to her the loudest. Even during times of torrential winds, she could still hear them. They seemed to be afflicted by a curse that swept the land. The curse was foretold by their ancient ones, the ones that harbored magic and spells. Yet their powerful staffs and binding charms could not shield them from the malediction that killed their crops and turned their livestock mad with frenzy.

They wanted the justice for the blight. They wanted the change they felt they were owed. It was a weakness that made them feel stronger. As the seasons changed however it was clear that they may never understand how the scourge started and who they could vilify.

Without pacification for their ire the humans turned on themselves. Defenseless innocents were burned at the stake. Their ashes were spread in the air under triumphant banners and parades. Over time the kings and queens passed from one family line to the next in a constant state of coup-de-tat. She found this amusing. After all it was their primitive beliefs that ravaged the fairy kingdom of Amourian and the hidden changeling race. If they couldn’t understand something, they held it over a fire, believing the purging flames would absolve them of sin.

Smoke consumed the grain silos when the queen of Bordum declared the food source to be contaminated by an evil sorceress. The queen was insinuated in the conspiracy and she was also burned. The tides would never change.

They never once said: “We are who we choose to be.” Instead they chose the idiom: “Myself above all others.” The curse upon the land could have lasted only several years. If only a magical being like herself would remove it for them. But she thought otherwise. After considering how she could alleviate with pixie dust and magic words she crawled into her bird’s nest hovel and smiled contentedly. Even if she sacrificed her essence for the sake of humanity, she knew they would never change. The world would continue to turn and the humans would continue to cast blame when there was none.