Chapter Text
No hermits were in the shopping district that day. No one saw the sparks of magic gathering around the amethyst shop, the sphere of jutting crystals all refracting the energy inward, into a point that became a swelling swirl that became a portal.
One by one, four figures appeared inside.
The first feet on the shopping district path were the two cloven hooves of the scout. Short tan fur covered his ungulate legs, and turned to white as it reached up his chest. Antlers curved in almost a heart shape from his head, each antler featuring a smaller second prong on the front. He glanced around, ears perked and on alert. Half a dozen or more cats watched him from cafe windows; when he smiled at them, they all sat up in the exact same way - then all flicked their tails at once and jumped down to the floor, out of sight. He waved the others out.
The next out looked almost human, save for the drooping, antler-like oak branches curling from his head, adorned with ribbons and glittering beads. His cloak seemed to wrap him in dappled forest light even in the middle of the exposed plain, and within its rustling movement was the barely visible hint of diaphanous wings. He looked east, toward something across - or in - the river, and nodded in satisfaction.
The air seemed to thicken as the last two joined them. One, a sprite of the same sort as the oak-like being, but with antler-branches swept back and covered in straight thorns each the length of a finger, and glittering, swirled wings on full display. Their clothes wrapped tighter, smooth like rose stems along their arms and legs, and they walked on heels that tapered to deadly-sharp points. Behind them, another winged figure, her stance emanating power and her attire exposing broad green shoulders. Out of long, golden-brown hair, asymmetrical deer-like antler-branches spread wide, festooned with trinkets, jewelry, and even a small bird's nest. "This is the world you described?" she demanded.
"It is," the oaken one replied, in a voice like spider silk. "We shall not go that way, lady Amber," he continued, gesturing in the direction he had been looking. "Neither the satyr princess nor any mortals reside there; what does stand there is her mark of place, and we do not want to alert her to our presence yet."
"I see." Amber put her hands on her hips. Wood was already starting to creak and grow outward from underneath the giant hourglass shading the path, which she ignored. "I trust you know where she is?"
"I do."
"Then, spread yourselves, and take our land with us," Amber commanded. "Whatever mortals you find, are yours to keep or do with as you wish. This world will soon enough be rightfully ours."