The Faery Tale Series Collection: The First Nine Books: Faery Tales

By Ronel Janse van Vuuren

Shadows. Fae. Magic running wild. Adventure.

 

The Veil between the realms of the living and the dead is under attack.

 

Why?

 

Nightmares, creatures of Darkness, mythical monsters: They need to choose sides before its chosen for them.

 

By whom?

 

Valkyries and Furies fight over the souls of the dead, not caring over peculiar circumstances of mass deaths. Pixies pester humans more than usual – to their betterment or death.

 

Humans with magic use their gifts to fight against the fae… While those without magic, only have their knowledge of folklore to protect them.

 

Is it enough?

 

The walls between the Realms are thinning drastically and no-one is noticing. Or if they are, they don't care or pretend it isn't happening.

 

Raging fire. Searing cold. Disappearances.

 

Can Man and Fae survive this onslaught?

 

And who is behind it all?

 

Scroll up now to buy and embroil yourself in danger and magic while figuring out who is staging this coup.

 

*This is the first nine books in the Faery Tales series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronel Janse van Vuuren
• Release date: Mar 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201703875

Book preview

The Faery Tales Series #1: The Fae Realm

Blurb:

Shadows.

Magic.

Fae.

Learn their ways – and the original folklore behind the Fae Realm – in six magical stories.

*This is the first book in the Faery Tales series.

The Blue Festival

Sia jumped from the roof and ran down the alley. She didn’t need anyone to see – or know – where she was going.

For the most part, the varsity kids she hung out with as a contemporary had no idea what kind of bargains they were entering. And even if they did figure it out, no-one cared. Having reckless fun before graduating to the real world was what they all desperately sought. If she helped her Court in the process...

She jumped over the hedge and entered the forest. No-one ever went there, not even the most foolish of mortals. After the deaths during the last festival...

Sia swallowed and moved silently through the trees. Dryads glared at her from their gathering beneath the elms; Pixies hissed at her as she ducked beneath their thorn tree; even the will- o’-the-wisps scattered when she came close.

She ignored them all. She had an important task. Finally, she made it to the clearing in the middle of the forest. She picked up a fallen leaf, pricked her finger and ripped the blood on it.

‘Blood of mine, summon those for who I pine.’

It didn’t take long for the clearing to be filled. Faeries of all colours, races and sizes appeared from the borough beneath.

‘You’re late.’

She glared at the man who probably inspired the modern portrayal of vampires as handsome creatures to be tamed.

‘I’ve done my part,’ she said, ignoring his accusation. She never had much patience for him or his posturing. ‘The Festival can go forward as planned.’

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

‘You found...’

She held up a hand. ‘Just let them know, alright? I have to return before I’m missed.’

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Just after sunrise on a Saturday morning, Sia stood surrounded by intoxicated students. They were the ones who constantly stayed at parties long after it had ended. They were the mortals too reckless and foolish to know when to stop.

She watched as the sea of blue descended on them for the festival. Faeries from all over came: blue water Fae and blue veld Fae; even the blue muse Fae made an appearance.

Sia didn’t flinch when the mortals were led away to dance themselves to exhaustion during the revel before becoming the main course. She had done her part to keep her Court fed and safe for another year. She grabbed a passing Phouka and joined the revel.

Vila

The previous story – The Blue Festival – has a Vila as a main character (Sia).

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According to verified folklore sources.

In Thomas Keightley’s Fairy Mythology (1828), this is how the Vila is described:

VILAS

CHERRY! dearest Cherry!

Higher lift thy branches,

Under which the Vilas

Dance their magic roundels.

Them before Radisha

Dew from flowers, lashes,

Leadeth on two Vilas,

To the third he sayeth—

"Be thou mine, O Vila!

Thou shalt, with my mother,

In the cool shade seat thee;

Soft silk deftly spinning

From the golden distaff." [a]

And in The Forest in Folklore and Mythology by Alexander Porteous (1928):

"A female being peculiar to Serbian mythology is the Vila, who partakes of the characteristics of both the Fairy and the Elf. These Vilas, represented as Mountain Nymphs, live in the forests and hills, and love singing and dancing. They are young and beautiful, with long flowing hair, and are usually clad in white. They often mount up into the air, from whence they discharge fatal arrows at men, but injure none except those who intrude on their revels. There is a Serbian saying – ustrièlila ga vila – meaning, the Vila has shot him with her dart. They are often seen sitting on Ash trees singing, and they converse with the stags of the forest. A Serbian song narrates how:

‘A young deer tracked his way through the lone forest

One lonely day – another came in sadness –

And the third dawn’d, and brought him sighs and sorrow;

Then he address’d him to the forest Vila:

Young deer, she said, "thou wild one of the forest!

Now tell me what great sorrow has oppress’d thee;

Why wanderest thou thus in the forest lonely;

Lonely one day – another day in sadness –

And the third day with sighs and anguish groaning?"

And thus the young deer to the Vila answered:

"O thou sweet sister! Vila of the forest!

Me has indeed a heavy grief befallen:

For once had a fawn, mine own beloved,

And one sad day she sought the running water;

She entered it but came not back to bless me."’

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In my own writing.

The Origin of the Fae: Vila

Vilas are captivatingly beautiful Fae who live in both the Otherworld and the world of the living.

They have beautiful singing voices and are mesmerising to watch when they dance – which they love to do.

They are excellent archers and usually display this skill when mortals interrupt their revels. They have their revels beneath cherry trees.

Vilas have long flowing hair and typically wear white, though they are partial to shades of blue. They are the Keepers of the Blue Festival where all Fae who are blue can enjoy a revel designed to pay their Tithes and build their glamour.

They do not particularly like humans, though they know that it is necessary to enthral them to take part in their revels as sacrifice. They’ll do what they must to lure humans to their special revels. A thick ring of grass, a type of faery ring, remains after such a revel and those who are wise know not to pass, for their life-force will immediately be drained and they will become part of the forest.

They are the peacekeepers of the forest. Any animal or Fae with a problem can go their sacred Ash trees and have the Vila waiting there decide judgement. Though they love all animals, they are partial to dogs.

They delight in creating storms just for the fun of it. Though they’ll heal the injured and sometimes use their prophetic powers to avert tragedy.

Vilas are shape-shifters; a trait they share with most Fae.

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You can read more about Vilas on my blog: https://www.ronelthemythmaker.com/enticing-vilas-nymphs-of-the-otherworld-and-forest-atozchallenge-folklore/

The Death Dance

Beads fell everywhere. Once every colour imaginable, they were now tinted with blood.

People kept on singing and waving as the parade passed, not realising what was happening. The alcohol they were liberally downing weren’t from their world... and kept them from seeing how the life was sucked from everyone the beads touched.

Kay kept on dancing. She knew that once she stopped, she’d join the numerous dead.

Dancing had always been her passion, her escape and her world. Now it was her prison. Keeping her own fear at bay, her movements became wild as the music the Fae played energised her and made her forget about everything except dancing.

She’d always wanted to dance for royalty. She never thought that dancing for the Dark King would be the end of her.

Ankou and Death Associated with Fae

The previous story – The Death Dance – has death as its main theme.

In Faerie, Death has many meanings, but there is one who is always present: Ankou (or his servants), whether others know of it or not. The MC in the previous story had no idea that Ankou was present as well.

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According to verified folklore sources.

Legends and Romances of Brittany by Lewis Spence [1917]

CHAPTER IV: SPRITES AND DEMONS OF BRITTANY

The Ankou

Perhaps there is no spirit of evil which is so much dreaded by the Breton peasantry as the Ankou, who travels the duchy in a cart, picking up souls. In the dead of night a creaking axle-tree can be heard passing down the silent lanes. It halts at a door; the summons has been given, a soul quits the doomed house, and the wagon of the Ankou passes on. The Ankou herself—for the dread death-spirit of Brittany is probably female—is usually represented as a skeleton. M. Anatole le Braz has elaborated a study of the whole question in his book on the legend of death in Brittany, and it is probable that the Ankou is a survival of the death-goddess of the prehistoric dolmen-builders of Brittany. MacCulloch considers the Ankou to be a reminiscence of the Celtic god of death, who watches over all things beyond the grave and carries off the dead to his kingdom, but greatly influenced by medieval ideas of 'Death the skeleton.' In some Breton churches a little model or statuette of the Ankou is to be seen, and this is nothing more nor less than a cleverly fashioned skeleton. The peasant origin of the belief can be found in the substitution of a cart or wagon for the more ambitious coach and four of other lands.

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The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries, by W.Y. Evans-Wentz [1911]

THE BRETON LEGEND OF THE DEAD

The Dead and Fairies Compared.—Without setting down here in detail numerous other death-legends which we have collected, we may now note how much the same are the powers and nature of the dead and spirits in Brittany, and the power and nature of the fairy races in Celtic Britain and Ireland. Thus the Breton dead strike down the living just as fairies are said to do; the Ankou who is a king of the dead, and his subjects, like a fairy king and fairies, have their own particular paths or roads over which they travel in great sacred processions; and exactly as fairies, the hosts of the dead are in possession of the earth on November Eve, and the living are expected to prepare a feast and entertainment for them of curded-milk, hot pancakes, and cider, served on the family table covered with a fresh white table-cloth, and to supply music. The Breton dead come to enjoy this hospitality of their friends; and as they take their places at the table the stools are heard to move, and sometimes the plates; and the musicians who help to entertain them think that at times they feel the cold breath of the invisible visitors.

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The Religion of the Ancient Celts by J. A. MacCulloch [1911]

THE STATE OF THE DEAD

Traces of the idea of an underworld of the dead exist in Breton folk-belief. It is not impossible that the Breton conception of Ankou, death personified, is a reminiscence of the Celtic Dispater. He watches over all things beyond the grave, and carries off the dead to his kingdom. But if so he has been altered for the worse by mediæval ideas of Death the skeleton 3 He is a grisly god of death, whereas the Celtic Dis was a beneficent god of the dead who enjoyed a happy immortality. They were not cold phantasms, but alive and endowed with corporeal form and able to enjoy the things of a better existence, and clad in the beautiful raiment and gaudy ornaments which were loved so much on earth.

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In my own writing.

The Origin of the Fae: Ankou

Ankou can appear as a skeletal being with a scythe and wearing a cloak – just as folklore claims. But he usually dresses smartly, especially when visiting the Faery Queen. He stays bone white, though. He likes the fact that all fae fear him, or are at least uncomfortable with his presence – even those who work for him.

He sometimes collects the souls of the dead in his black cart/carriage. Depending on his mood and the circumstances, he can be quite gentle with the recently dead and take them to his realm himself instead of leaving them to the tender mercies of the dullahans and others in his service.

It is his duty to maintain order between the Otherworld and the land of the living (Faerie and Mortal Realm alike). He has various servants (dullahans, banshees, sirens, etc.) with specific duties to maintain this order. His most trusted lieutenants are the Keeper of the Veil and Dagda, ruler of the Underworld.

During Samhain, when the Veil between Worlds are at its thinnest, he leads a procession of dead fae and some of his servants through the world of the living. When they come across living beings, they are to be appeased with baked goods or dessert. Or they will play cruel tricks on the individual. That is why it is best to stay indoors, hidden in the dark, during Samhain lest you attract the attention of Ankou and his subjects.

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You can read more about Ankou on my blog: https://www.ronelthemythmaker.com/ankou-king-of-the-dead-atozchallenge-folklore/

The Good, the Bad and the Fugly

They were forever provocative and disturbing. Richelle looked away from the other Sirens dressing in glittering outfits, their hair already perfectly coiffed. She was shivering like she had the day of her own initiation.

Shrugging, she pulled up the zip of her shoulderless dress. It was time to show the initiates exactly what it meant to be a Siren.

Richelle walked through the veil separating her world from the mortal realm.

The beach was filled with half-naked humans. A young man wearing only a speedo strutted across the sand towards her. All eyes followed him. It was obvious that he knew what effect he had on others.

She shook her head at his smug attitude. He was perfect, in more ways than one.

‘I haven’t seen you around. Great dress, by the way.’

‘Want to get out of here?’

‘Lead the way.’

They walked out of sight of the humans before she entered the water. He resisted at the water’s edge. Richelle started singing softly, ensnaring his senses. He followed her into the water.

Once they were deep enough that his feet couldn’t touch the bottom, she grinned. Her appearance changed. She knew that her hair became purple, dark at the roots and light at the tips. Her light glittering dress was replaced by black silk and lace. Her make-up became as dark as her soul.

Yet the human showed no fear. She was still singing. He was still enthralled.

Quickly, she pulled him beneath the water and drowned him. His soul slipped out of his body, watching her in confusion.

Richelle dropped his body and sang to his soul. He followed her through the veil where she left him with a Grim in the Otherworld.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection on the walls of water and grimaced. Being a Siren was being a promise of perfection. Yet here she was, nothing more than feathers and skinless red oozing everywhere. She needed to feed.

She hated the curse upon her kind to be half-bird, half-woman unless they used enough magic to conceal their true nature.

She returned to the corpse at the bottom of the ocean and fed until only the bones were left. She took them to her realm, where she placed them at the roots of the tree that gave life to her kind.

Back with the young Sirens who had to go through their rite of passage, drowning their first human, she was once again the beautiful creature of earlier.

She watched the young Sirens perform the ritual, some wavering at the transformation into a dark creature before drowning their victim.

Other Sirens hissed at them.

It was a dangerous, even hostile, initiation. Being a Siren wasn’t all singing songs and combing hair.

She watched as Meg, the Siren who had disavowed her true nature for almost a century, enter the mortal realm in her true form. She saw the hesitation on the young Siren’s face and knew that Meg wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Not all Sirens were born to seduce and kill – no matter how powerful they might be.

Invisible even to her own kind, Richelle flitted to the mortal realm and to Meg’s side.

‘There’s a way for you to escape your fate,’ she whispered to the terrified girl.

‘How?’ Meg breathed.

‘Don’t enthral, enlighten.’

Richelle returned to her spot on the other side of the veil to watch. No-one had noticed her absence.

On the beach, Meg cornered a kind-looking young man. He had the same athletic build as all the other victims of Sirens, but there was something about him that told Richelle that he never felt smug about his appearance. Just like Meg wasn’t able to be ruthless.

Meg started singing, leading the smiling young man into the waves. The Sirens howled, knowing that she was screwing up her initiation.

‘You’re a beautiful nymph,’ the young man said.

Meg glared at him. ‘I’m not a nymph. Nymphs are foolish creatures obsessed with their looks and seducing mortals. No. I’m a Siren.’

‘You just described what Sirens are.’

‘Foolish mortal.’

‘Then enlighten me.’

Meg’s eyes lit up and she sang to him about the past and the future. She sang about everything she knew. She sang until she dissolved in the water, never to be seen again... though her song was forever carried on the waves.

Richelle nodded at what she saw before it happened and walked away. The initiation was over. A Siren was saved from her fate and could now swim and dance in cool water that the rest of them could only dream of.

Sirens

The previous story – The Good, the Bad and the Fugly – has a Siren as a main character (Richelle).

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According to verified folklore sources.

Fictitious and Symbolic Creatures in Art by John Vinycomb [1909]

The Sirens of Classical Mythology

The Sirens (Greek, entanglers) enticed seamen by the sweetness of their song to such a degree that the listeners forgot everything and died of hunger. Their names were, Parthenope, Ligea, and Leucosia.

Parthenope, the ancient name of Neapolis (Naples) was derived from one of the sirens, whose tomb was shown in Strabo's time. Poetic legend states that she threw herself into the sea out of love for Ulysses, and was cast up on the Bay of Naples.

The celebrated Parthenon at Athens, the beautiful temple of Pallas Athenæ, so richly adorned with sculptures, likewise derives its name from this source.

Dante interviews the siren in Purgatorio, xix. 7–33.

Flaxman, in his designs illustrating the Odyssey, represents the sirens as beautiful young women seated on the strand and singing.

The Sirens are best known from the story that Odysseus succeeded in passing them with his companions without being seduced by their song. He had the prudence to stop the ears of his companions with wax and to have himself bound to the mast. Only two are mentioned in Homer, but three or four are mentioned in later times and introduced into various legends. Demeter (Ceres) is said to have changed their bodies into those of birds, because they refused to go to the help of their companion, Persephone, when she was carried off by Pluto. They are represented in Greek art like the harpies, as young women with the wings and feet of birds. Sometimes they appear altogether like birds, only with human faces; at other times with the bodies of women, in which case they generally hold instruments of music in their hands. As their songs are death to those subdued by them they are often depicted on tombs as spirits of death.

By the fables of the Sirens is represented the ensnaring nature of vain and deceitful pleasures, which sing and soothe to sleep, and never fail to destroy those who succumb to their beguiling influence.

Spenser, in the Faerie Queen, describes a place where many mermaids haunt, making false melodies, by which the knight Guyon makes a somewhat perilous passage. There were five sisters that had been fair ladies, till too confident in their skill in music they had ventured to contend with the Muses, when they were transformed in their lower extremities to fish:

"But the upper half their hue retained still,

And their sweet skill in wonted melody;

Which ever after they abused to ill

To allure weak travellers, whom gotten they did kill."

Book ii. cant. cxii.

Shakespeare charmingly pictures Oberon in the moonlight, fascinated by the graceful form and the melodious strains of the mermaid half reclining on the back of the dolphin:

"  Oberon: . . . Thou rememberest

Since once I sat upon a promontory,

And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back

Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath

That the rude sea grew civil at her song

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres

To hear the sea-maid's music."

Commentators of Shakespeare find in this passage (and subsequent parts) certain references to Mary Queen of Scots, which they consider beyond dispute. She was frequently referred to in the poetry of the time under this title. She was married to the Dauphin (or Dolphin) of France. The rude sea means the Scotch rebels, and the shooting stars referred to were the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, who, with others of lesser note, forgot their allegiance to Elizabeth out of love to Mary.

Few eyes, says Sir Thomas Browne, have escaped the picture of a mermaid with a woman's head above and a fish's extremity below. In those old days when reading and writing were rare accomplishments, pictured signboards served to give a local habitation and a name to hostelries