The fae are otherworldly beings who once slipped between their realm and the mortal world, inspiring countless human legends of tricksters, guides, and mysterious woodland spirits. In the lore of The Faelight Ball, they are graceful, magical, and deeply connected to nature – yet vulnerable in ways humans rarely imagined.

Tir na Skiva (pronounced TEER-nah-SKY-vah) is the ancient homeland of the fae: a realm shaped by living magic, shifting landscapes, and traditions far older than mortal memory. When the fae first entered mortal society, the name gradually blended into local speech and became Tirnaskiva, a single-word form easier for humans to write and pronounce. Even so, mortals often misinterpret or soften the pronunciation, turning its lilting cadence into something flatter or more familiar. To the fae, the original name carries deep cultural resonance, and hearing it spoken correctly is considered a quiet gesture of respect.

A term used by the fae to describe humans and all other beings who live within the ordinary flow of time and nature. Mortals are defined not by weakness, but by their finite lifespans and their deep connection to the physical world. Their ingenuity, resilience, and ability to adapt quickly have long fascinated the fae, who experience life at a slower, more fluid pace. In stories and in truth, “mortals” is not a dismissive word; but merely a recognition that humans live brightly, briefly, and with a determination that the fae both envy and admire.

The everyday human world, shaped by familiar landscapes, towns, and traditions. For most of history, mortals knew the fae only through stories and folklore, unaware of how closely the two realms brushed against each other.

A mystical and delicate boundary separating the mortal world from the fae realm. In earlier ages, the Veil was thin enough for the fae to slip through unnoticed, giving rise to mortal tales of wandering lights and mysterious visitors. The Veil kept the two worlds distinct, balanced, and – for a time – safe. After the Shattering, the Veil became unstable, leaving passages between worlds far more common, and far less predictable. To both realms, the Veil represents mystery, danger, and possibility.

The slow, sorrowful fading of the fae’s eldest and wisest, that swept through the fae realm long before the Shattering; a gradual weakening of magic, spirit, and vitality that no healer or sage could halt. It began with the Elders: beings of ancient power whose light grew thin, their voices faint, until they faded from sight entirely. At the time, no fae understood its cause, and even now it remains one of the great wounds shaping fae society.

As the Elders vanished, the very realm seemed to pale. Forests quieted, rivers lost their shimmer, and the younger fae felt their own magic flicker unevenly. Many describe the Diminishing not as a single event, but as a slow unraveling - like a tapestry loosening thread by thread.

Whispers endure of an Elder who did not fade: Finskel, Hidden in the Dark; proof only that the story of the Diminishing is not finished, and that its truth may be heavier than the fae once hoped.

Item descriptionA catastrophic event when storm and magic tore apart the once-stable Veil. In the fae realm it appeared as a great tempest; in the mortal realm, it arrived as a storm of unprecedented destruction. When the chaos cleared, fae were found wandering the human world: disoriented, frightened, and appearing as lost children rather than legends made real.

A soft, glowing form of magic commonly associated with the fae. It may appear as floating motes, gentle sparks of light, or shimmering radiance surrounding enchanted objects or beings. Its exact nature is mysterious, but it symbolizes vitality, wonder, and the connection between worlds.

A dance card was a small booklet or card used at formal balls in the 19th century, most commonly by women, to keep track of each dance partner throughout the evening. Before the ballroom floor filled, gentlemen would politely request a place on a lady’s card; she would write their names beside specific dances, creating a personal schedule of partners. Dance cards helped guests avoid confusion, manage invitations gracefully, and – when the night was magical – served as a cherished keepsake of the event. At The Faelight Ball, every guest receives a decorative dance card upon arrival to record partners, memories, or notes from the evening’s revelry.

A small card once carried by visitors to announce themselves at social gatherings or households. Presented upon arrival, it conveyed one’s name and status. At registration, guests at the Faelight Ball will have the opportunity to create their own calling card – to be announced as they enter the ball proper.

A magical marketplace that appears only after dusk, usually in a tucked-away street or quiet laneway once the mortal shops have closed. Born from the fae realm, the Night Market was originally created to give fae refugees a sense of home: a place filled with familiar color, music, and enchantment. Stalls spill over with curious artifacts, handmade charms, glowing trinkets, and goods that seem just a touch otherworldly. Though originally meant for the fae alone, mortals quickly grew fond of these lively gatherings, visiting to find rare keepsakes, curious wonders, or simply to enjoy the bustle of a world not quite their own.

A must-have at any respectable Victorian gathering, this corner of the Ball is where guests may seek insight from fae or mortal seers. Tarot, palmistry, runes, and other forms of fortune-telling are offered in short sessions, each meant to reveal a glimpse of possibility rather than certainty. The Parlour blends mysticism with intimate storytelling, giving guests a moment of stillness and wonder amid the revelry.

Item descriptionSpecial tokens used as currency within the fae-inspired spaces of the Ball. These coins are crafted from gold, tin, and copper, as silver is traditionally avoided: its touch can cause discomfort or even harm to some fae, and is seen as an unsuitable metal for trade or ceremony. Guests receive or may purchase these coins at registration and use them for drinks, readings, or treasures in the Night Market. Beyond their practical use, the coins help maintain the illusion of entering another realm, and many guests keep them as meaningful souvenirs.

Tiny flickers of fae magic that create brief impressions: a spark of courage, a moment of calm, a glimmer of light, or a fleeting illusion at the edge of sight. Whisper-charms are not powerful spells but gentle echoes of deeper magic that once thrived in the fae realm. Tricksters and performers often use them at the Ball to add a touch of enchantment to their encounters.

Softly glowing lanterns crafted using fragments of shimmercraft: the gentle, living magic that still flickers within the fae realm. These lanterns illuminate paths, mark safe crossings, or signal gatherings of the Court. Their light resembles captured starlight or drifting fireflies, and at the Ball they symbolize hope and unity between worlds.

Fae performers who wander through the crowd offering riddles, challenges, “blessings,” or playful mischief. Tricksters are central to fae folklore: unpredictable, clever, and charming. At the Ball, their antics may earn guests small privileges, unexpected partners, or whimsical tokens: all meant to delight rather than deceive.

Not all merchants stay behind their stalls. Some drift through the Ball carrying trays of wares – tiny masks, charms, scents, cards, or curios meant to mimic the spontaneity of fae street markets. A roaming vendor may offer a blessing in the form of a perfume mist, a single tarot card fortune, or a miniature trinket whispered to hold “luck.”

An ancient fae tradition for resolving disagreements or sealing new alliances through shared ritual; often involving music, dance, or symbolic gestures made before witnesses. These rites emphasize harmony over victory and encourage participants to seek mutual understanding. The Rites of Accord inspired the spirit and structure of the Concordance at the Ball; a formal gathering marked by ritual, witness, and a turning of the night.

An ancient form of gathering, called when divisions can no longer be set aside. Mortals and fae alike are summoned not to debate or bargain, but to stand together in acknowledgment of what has been, what is, and what may yet be. The Concordance marks a turning point in the evening - after which the night is never quite the same.

A period of rapid innovation when steam power transformed travel, industry, and daily life. Trains, steamships, and early mechanical inventions reshaped cities and connected distant places more quickly than ever before. In the world of The Faelight Ball, this era also intersects with fae magic – with some engines and devices said to run more smoothly when touched by otherworldly energy.

Iron is a powerful and disruptive substance to the fae. Its presence dampens their natural magic, causes physical discomfort, and in stronger concentrations can inflict real harm; especially for the Téarach metalsingers, whose forging-songs are most grievously disrupted by iron’s resonance.

Though the mortal world is built upon iron - tools, railings, engines, and city infrastructure - the fae avoid direct contact whenever possible. Where iron cannot be removed, Root-Singers protect the fae by coaxing ivy or other living vines to grow swiftly over exposed metal. These natural coverings soften iron’s effects, creating a barrier that allows the fae to move more comfortably through mortal spaces while blending protection with beauty.

Yet no protection is perfect. The most perilous variant, cold iron - iron that has never passed through fire - cannot be softened by magic or vine.

A modern artistic style inspired by the innovations of the 19th century – brass gears, clockwork devices, goggles, and mechanical flourishes – blended with imaginative fantasy. Although the Ball remains more Victorian than industrial, small touches of this aesthetic complement the theme of humans and fae reshaping the age of steam together.

Late Victorian fashion, spanning roughly the 1870s to the 1890s, is known for its dramatic silhouettes, rich fabrics, and elaborate detailing. Women’s attire often featured fitted bodices, high collars, and skirts shaped with bustles or layered drapery, creating a graceful yet structured look. Men’s fashion favored tailored suits, frock coats, waistcoats, cravats, and top hats, with an emphasis on sharp lines and polished presentation. Materials such as velvet, satin, lace, and brocade were popular, as were accessories like gloves, fans, parasols, pocket watches, and ornate jewelry. This period balanced formality with flourish: a perfect match for the elegance and enchantment of The Faelight Ball, where guests can blend historical authenticity with subtle hints of fantasy.

An old fae custom in which a guest offers a small gift or token when entering another’s domain; not as payment, but as a sign of respect and peaceful intention. These tokens might be a pressed flower, a charm, a poem, or even a moment of music. The tradition explains the exchange of favors, riddles, and small tokens throughout the Ball, echoing a culture built on reciprocity and courtesy.

Item descriptionTraditional expectations for polite behavior during formal dances. This includes offering one’s arm when inviting a partner, thanking them after the dance ends, and avoiding cutting in unless welcomed. While the Ball encourages playfulness and creativity, these courtesies help maintain the elegance of a Victorian-inspired evening.

Item descriptioA structured social dance popular in the 18th and 19th centuries, often involving patterns, formations, and partnered exchanges. Cotillions were used to open or close grand evenings, teaching coordination and social grace. At the Ball, traces of cotillion-style movement may inspire group dances or choreographed moments.

A sweeping, elegant partnered dance in triple time, famous for its turning steps and graceful gliding motions. By the late 19th century it had become the centerpiece of formal balls. The opening waltz at The Faelight Ball honors this tradition, symbolizing unity between the realms.

A formal gathering in which guests wear masks or costumes, adding mystery and theatricality to the evening. Masquerades were popular in Europe for centuries, offering attendees the freedom to play roles or explore hidden identities. At the Ball, masks also echo fae Veiled Semblance: the idea that appearances may not tell the full story.

A leisurely, looping walk taken arm-in-arm around the ballroom so guests could see and be seen. It served as a refined way to socialize before dancing began. Modern promenades at the Ball may occur as part of formal entrances or transitional moments in the story.

A lively four-couple square dance composed of precise figures and coordinated steps. Quadrilles were fashionable in the Victorian period and required cooperation among dancers – much like the alliance-building theme of the Ball itself.

A distant moment in early history when a fae traveler accidentally slipped through the Veil into mortal lands and was mistaken for a wandering spirit. More travelers followed over the centuries, inspiring myths of strange lights, guiding figures, and hidden wonders. The First Crossing marks the beginning of all mortal folklore about the fae: long before either realm realized how fragile the Veil truly was.

A violent and unnatural storm that tore through both the fae and mortal realms. In the fae world it was felt first as a disturbance in the very fabric of magic; in the mortal world it arrived as a devastating windstorm that shattered ships, toppled trees, and shook entire villages. When the skies cleared, the Veil was forever changed – and lost fae stepped into mortal lands, frightened and unfamiliar with their surroundings.

The ancient fae who once guided their people with wisdom shaped by millennia of experience. They kept balance along the Veil; serving as guides, teachers, and quiet guardians, maintaining the harmony between land, magic, and the younger fae who came after them. When the Diminishing began, the Elders were the first to fade: their light thinning, their forms growing insubstantial, until most dissolved into the very fabric of the realm they had once tended.

For centuries, it was believed that all had vanished… until whispers resurfaced of an Elder hidden in the dark, one who endured by retreating into the deep, unlit places of the fae world. His survival suggested the Elders did not simply die but were pulled toward something unknown – a force or unraveling that only he witnessed and understood. Because of this, the Elders are remembered not only with reverence, but with a lingering sense of mystery. Their disappearance marks the beginning of the fae’s long decline, and their possible return – and the secrets they carried with them – remains one of the great questions haunting both realms.

A storied tradition in the fae realm, once led by the most skilled and perceptive among them. The Hunt was not solely about chasing prey; it was a rite of mastery, intuition, and guardianship over the wild places of their homeland. Lord Eldwin earned renown as Master of the Hunt, celebrated for his unmatched calm and steady judgment even in times of upheaval.

Fae who crossed into the mortal realm after the Shattering, many of them bewildered, frightened, or appearing as children to mortal eyes. Displaced from their home and stripped of the guidance of the Elders, these refugees sought shelter among humans – and were welcomed with compassion, fear or fascination. Their presence reshaped mortal stories of the fae forever.

A subtle fae ability to present themselves in a way that softens, brightens, or slightly alters what others perceive. It is not a disguise, nor a deception, but rather an instinctive magic that reflects how the fae wish to be seen: usually gentler or more radiant. During the Diminishing, even this small art weakened, leaving many fae looking drained or childlike to mortal eyes.

A catch-all term for the delicate, low-level magics that persist even in weakened times: sparks of light, floating motes, the soft glow of enchanted objects, or the ability to coax life into growing things. Fae artisans often use shimmercraft to infuse their creations with warmth or subtle animation, making even ordinary items feel touched by wonder.

Artifacts, trinkets, or natural objects that passed through the Veil during the Shattering and now bear unusual properties. A flower that refuses to wilt, a coin that hums faintly when held, or a shard of stone that glows in moonlight: all remnants of a world disrupted by magic. Mortals sometimes collect these items as curiosities, though their true purposes are rarely understood.

In both mortal folklore and fae belief, names carry deep significance. A true name is more than a simple identifier: it reflects one’s history, spirit, and inner nature. Among the fae, a name is considered a thread of personal power – offering it freely is an act of profound trust. This belief led mortals to be cautious about giving a fae their real name, fearing it might allow the fae to glimpse too deeply into their character or bind them into unmeant promises. While most fae would never misuse such a gift, the caution endures: names open doors, and once spoken, they cannot be easily taken back. For this reason, many fae – even nobility – use titles, poetic epithets, or chosen names when speaking with mortals, keeping their true names close and protected.

Mortal tales speak of children who wander too far into forests, misty fields, or moonlit paths and inadvertently follow a fae across the Veil. These crossings are rarely intentional or malicious – the fae themselves often do not realize a curious child has followed behind them until it is too late. Time flows differently in the fae realm, and those who return to the mortal world do so changed: older or younger than expected, marked by unusual clarity or quietness, or carrying memories that feel like dreams more than lived moments. Some speak of songs they cannot forget, lights that danced like living things, or a sense of longing for a place they can no longer reach. These stories, half warning and half wonder, remind mortals that the boundary between realms is delicate… and easily crossed by those who do not yet know to be wary.

Ancient routes within the fae realm that once shifted like flowing water, revealing themselves only to those meant to walk them. Since the Shattering, some paths have become unstable, occasionally brushing against forgotten corners of the mortal world. Travelers who stumble upon a Lost Path might find themselves wandering through unexpected memories, looping time, or emerging somewhere far from where they began.

A fae way of describing time that does not move in straight lines but in moods, seasons, or sensations. A moment of joy may pass like a single breath, while a melancholy hour may linger as though it were a day. This difference in perception explains many mortal tales of those who cross the Veil and return changed, unsure whether they’ve been gone minutes or years.

Root-Singers are fae artisans and mystics whose magic is intertwined with living things. They can coax vines to climb, flowers to unfurl, and ancient trees to bend gently toward their voices. Their craft is subtle but vital, especially in the mortal realm where they guide ivy to cover harmful iron, creating living shields that protect the fae. The first of the Root-Singers was Poppy, a gentle and perceptive fae whose gift for hearing the “quiet songs” of growing things revealed a new form of magic to her people in the mortal realm. Among the fae, Root-Singers are honored keepers of growth, healing, and quiet resilience, and this is Poppy’s legacy – continued in every leaf-wrapped railing and every blossom that opens at a Root-Singer’s touch.

Yet even the strongest ivy cannot mute cold iron. Its raw, untouched nature repels life; young vines recoil from it, and only ancient, deeply rooted growth can cling to its surface at all. For this reason, Root-Singers treat cold iron with great wariness, honoring the ancient teachings to approach such metal with patience, humility, and respect for what cannot be tamed.

The Téarach (pronounced TAY-rahkh - “kh,” like the soft end of loch), are an ancient order of fae metalsingers whose craft is said to predate written language. Rather than shaping metal through force, they coax it through song – melodies that awaken its hidden nature, soften its rigidity, and guide it into forms both impossibly delicate and impossibly strong. To the Téarach, metal is a living substance with its own temperament: courageous metals ring bright and eager beneath the hammer, while fearful metals resist until soothed by steadier tones.

Their forges are quiet sanctuaries where flame and voice work in harmony, and even among the fae, Téarach metalsong is considered rare and sacred. Members of the order are known for their discipline, patience, and uncanny ability to weave purpose into every creation. Blades forged by the Téarach are said to choose their bearers; clockworks shaped under their melodies move with eerie grace; protective chains carry echoes of the songs that birthed them.

But their art has a singular vulnerability: Cold iron – iron that has never passed through fire – does not respond to song. It is a silent, discordant metal; devoid of any resonance. To the Téarach, its presence is agonizing: metalsong collapses against it, leaving a hollow void where metal’s voice should be. Even ordinary iron is difficult for them to bear, but cold iron is catastrophic, capable of silencing a metalsinger’s craft for days.

Because of this, the Téarach hold deep respect – and deeper caution – toward any relic or weapon shaped from cold iron.

The circle of nobles, attendants, advisors, and sworn protectors who serve the Willow Queen. Once a sprawling court filled with ancient lineages, it has grown smaller but more tightly bound since the Diminishing. Each member serves not only in ceremony but as a guardian of their culture and a representative to the mortal realm. Guests at the Ball may encounter members of this court as they welcome, guide, and subtly test alliances formed throughout the evening.

The Willow Queen emerged as a leader after the bleak era of the Diminishing, when the Elders faded and uncertainty spread through the fae realm. Known for her quiet strength and deep compassion, she took on the mantle of guiding her people when no one else could. Her presence is serene yet sorrowful, shaped by centuries of watching her world weaken and her kin struggle to endure. She strives to preserve what remains of fae culture, nurture hope among the young, and mend the widening rift between realms. To mortals, she appears both ethereal and profoundly human; a monarch carrying the weight of a fading world with unwavering grace.

Lord Eldwin is remembered as an old soul even among the youthful fae; calm, perceptive, and wise beyond his years. Long before the Shattering, he earned renown as Master of the Hunt, celebrated for his unmatched skill, steady judgment, and quiet strength. He met and wed the woman who would become the Willow Queen in earlier, gentler days, and has remained her constant anchor as their world unraveled. Though not untouched by loss, Eldwin endures with stoic resolve, offering counsel and stability when grief threatens to overwhelm the court. His presence is a reminder of loyalty, discipline, and the quiet courage needed to guide a people through chaos.

Known in the mortal realm as Victoria, her true name Victrannen carries the cadence and radiance of Tir na Skiva itself. In the fae courts she is remembered as a bright, tempestuous child of the First Realm; fiery in spirit, deeply feeling, and gifted with a rare, emotional magic that is reflected in her hair in shifting hues. Younger sister of the fae who would later be known as The Willow Queen, she was protected fiercely during the Diminishing, and grew without knowing the full weight of their world’s sorrow. It was only when she was cast out into the mortal realm during the Shattering that she discovered the true meaning of pain, grief, and sorrow.

In adulthood she has become a beloved figure of both courts: warm, curious, instinctively kind, and endlessly captivated by mortal craftsmanship and ingenuity. Her frequent visits to the workshops and marketplaces of the mortal city led her to Wesley Hartwell, the metalsinger whose quiet devotion steadily reshaped her heart. Their bond – born of curiosity, tempered by trial, and strengthened by choice – stands as a living emblem of hope between their peoples.

Though she bears no formal crown, Victrannen’s presence in the Willow Court carries profound symbolic weight. To the fae, she represents resilience, renewal, and the promise of a gentler future; to mortals, she is the first fae noble they ever saw laugh freely among them. As the night of the Faelight Ball approaches, she stands not only as the Queen’s cherished sister, but as a bridge between worlds: proof that affection may bloom where realms once stood divided.

Poppy is revered as the first and greatest of the Root-Singers – the fae who can coax life from seed and stone, guide ivy over iron, and awaken the quiet songs of growing things. Long before the Shattering, she tended Tiraelun, a sanctuary-grove famed for its ever-blooming canopy and healing stillness. As Mistress of Tiraelun, Poppy nurtured both flora and fae, offering gentle wisdom to the young and solace to the weary. Her magic was never forceful; it blossomed in patience, kindness, and a rare ability to hear the heartbeat of the land itself. Though the realm has known sorrow since the Diminishing, the vines she once shaped continue to shield the fae from harm, and many say her legacy lives wherever green life curls protectively around the world.

Finskel is the last known Elder of the fae; a figure spoken of in hushed tones, half legend and half warning. While all other Elders faded during the Diminishing, Finskel endured by withdrawing into the deep, unseen places of the realm where light rarely reached and even the Veil grew thin. From this solitude he watched the world unravel, gathering ancient knowledge and secrets too heavy for the younger fae to bear. Unlike the other surviving figures of power, Finskel does not seek a throne or followers; his role is quieter, stranger, and rooted in necessity. When he emerges, it is rarely by chance – he appears only when the balance of the realms wavers, offering truths that are unsettling, vital, and never entirely complete. To meet Finskel is to confront the weight of old magic and the lingering shadow of everything the fae have lost.

Ravenna is a diviner of the Willow Court, known for her attunement to storms, thresholds, and the subtle tensions that precede change. Her Sight is read through movement and balance rather than visions, yet she cannot see her own future — a long-accepted counterweight to her gift. Shaped by loss and long absence, she returned to the Court tempered by hardship and reflection rather than certainty. Ravenna offers guidance with measured restraint, speaking not of inevitability but of consequence and choice. Her presence is a reminder that foresight without humility can wound as deeply as blindness, and that wisdom often lies in knowing when not to look.

Brynwald serves as the Herald of the Willow Queen and the keeper of ceremony within her court. Where others embody passion, grief, or hope, Brynwald embodies continuity. Their voice carries announcements, welcomes guests, and guides the rhythm of the evening with calm precision, even as tensions rise beneath the surface.

Though they do not command armies or councils, their authority is unmistakable. They speak when tradition must hold, when disorder threatens to overtake grace, and when the old forms are all that remain to steady the present. Their Attendants of Ceremony serve under them, assisting in the quiet work of maintaining order and observing the undercurrents of the night.

To those who listen closely, Brynwald’s composure carries a deeper weight. They are not merely reciting custom, but carrying it - shaped by long service, careful loyalty, and the understanding that some moments cannot be forced, only witnessed.

If the night turns, it will be Brynwald’s voice that marks the turning.

Zauber is a member of the Willow Queen’s Court and the appointed Bearer of the Elder’s Seal, a role that carries both authority and obligation. As Bearer, Zauber is entrusted with witnessing, recording, and safeguarding matters of formal consequence to the fae realms, particularly those involving oaths, accords, and decisions made in council.

The Elder’s Seal is both a symbol and a responsibility, granting Zauber the right to observe proceedings across factions and to attest to the legitimacy of certain acts. While not a ruler, Zauber’s presence often signals that an event or declaration carries lasting weight.

Zauber is known for a measured demeanor and deliberate speech, favoring precision over persuasion. Never seen far from Finskel’s side, the true nature of their relationship has not been revealed.

A gathering of human dignitaries, merchants, scholars, and officials invited to the Ball in hopes of strengthening ties between the realms. Some seek peace, some seek opportunity, and others simply wish to witness the fae with their own eyes. Though their goals vary, the delegation represents humanity’s most prominent voices in this delicate moment of diplomacy.

A blacksmith born to hardship, Wesley Hartwell rose from the soot and clangor of mortal forges to become one of the most remarkable artisans of his age. Gifted with an instinctive ability to “sing” to metal – a rare talent even among the fae – Wesley learned the secret forging-songs from a Téarach metalsinger. His creations soon became wonders sought by both realms: impossibly fine chains, clockwork marvels, and metalwork that moved with the grace of living things.

Despite fame, Wesley remained humble, happiest at his anvil and guided by quiet devotion. His life changed irrevocably when he encountered Victoria, sister to the Willow Queen. What began as awe became a slow, ember-lit love – forever uniting the destinies of both mortals and fae. Now known with reverence and curiosity in both courts, Wesley stands as living proof that mortal ingenuity and fae magic can harmonize – and that love, even across realms, can be tempered into something enduring.

Trusted members of the Willow Court who serve directly under Brynwald, Herald of the Queen. They move quietly at the edges of important moments; carrying messages, guiding guests, and ensuring that the old courtesies do not break under the strain of the night.

They rarely speak unless necessary, but their presence is unmistakable: a subtle signal that tradition is close at hand, and that the Court is listening.

Merchants of mortal craft and fae wonder alike drift through the Night Market; offering charms, curios, scents, and small enchantments. Some are playful, some are solemn, and many are simply trying to make a living in a world that feels less predictable with each passing year.

A figure found in the Divination Parlour - fae or mortal - who offers glimpses of possibility rather than promises of truth. Seers read the patterns that flicker at the edge of the present: tarot drawn like a whispered story, runes cast like scattered fate, a palm traced as though it were a map.

What they offer is not certainty, but a moment of stillness amid the revelry; and a question you may carry with you into the dances that follow.

A wandering fae performer who drifts between conversations with bright eyes and mischief held carefully in hand. Tricksters delight in riddles, playful challenges, and unexpected “blessings”: small moments meant to unsettle in the gentlest way, like laughter at the edge of a sigh.

They are not here to deceive, but to remind you that the world is wider than rules, and that sometimes the truest answers arrive sideways - wrapped in a joke, a dare, or a riddle you can’t quite forget.