He growls. Then, after a moment of reluctance, he bites through the chains, hissing in pain as several of his teeth break in doing so.

His hand came up, fingers resting on her cheek, trailing down her skin. "I dreamed...you would come," he murmured before his eyes cleared a bit and his face darkened. "You shouldn't...be here," he gasped, digging his fingers into her arm. "This...is a trap. And thank you," he said to the kitsune, grateful for it.


And then, there it was--horrible, dark laughter, rising up from the wall behind them,. The gears in the fountain shivered, then began to turn backward. With a loud clanking and grinding, the wall behind them sank into the ground, revealing another part of the garden. Metal trees lined the path to an enormous iron throne, spiking into the sky. A squadron of armored knights stood at the foot of the throne with weapons drawn, pointed at them. Another squad entered through the door and slammed it shut, trapping them between them.


Standing at the top of his throne, surveying us all with a look of grim satisfaction, was Machina, the Iron King.

She glares at the king, her hands on either side of Ash's face.

Kerri growls. Lin whimpers in fear.

The figure on the throne threw Lin a smile as sharp as razors. "Linna," he murmured, his scintillating voice echoing over the garden. "Welcome. I've been expecting you."

She glances back at Lin, reluctantly standing and moving in front of her. She looks down at Ash, her eyes glowing a bright green again.

The kitsune sets himself on fire, his growl turning into a snarl.

The figure on the throne stood tall and elegant, with flowing silver hair and the pointed ears of the fey nobility. He faintly resembled Oberon, refined and graceful, yet incredibly powerful. Unlike Oberon and the finery of the Summer Court, the Iron King wore a stark black coat that flapped in the wind. Energy crackled around him, like thunder with no sound, and there were flashes of lightning in his slanted black eyes. A metal stud glittered in one ear, a Bluetooth phone in the other. His face was beautiful and arrogant, all sharp planes and angles. And yet, when he smiled, it lit up the whole room. A strange, silvery cloak lay across his shoulders, wriggling slightly as if it were alive.

Her hands twitch, just as they did when she called upon the trees.

This was probably the only chance that they would get to use the Witchwood arrow...