Chapter Two
From the Serialised Fantasy Series titled
‘A Glimpse of Numa’.
First Published March 16th, 2026.
By Suzanne Strutt Artist. ©
Auditions to Earth
(15 Minute Read)
‘Knock, Knock. Who’s there?’
‘Hello, Miss Haggins, it’s Greta. Greta Fernsby. I’m here to see Glynda.’ Greta whispered through the wooden front door of her best friend’s house.
It was 5:30 am, September 15th, and outside it was still dark.
An eye peered suspiciously through the peephole, followed by the sound of a latch being slowly unlocked. A moment later, Glynda’s aunt peered out, holding up a lit lantern with a puzzled expression on her face.
Her gaze filled with relief as the candle illuminated the outline of a familiar figure on her front porch.
There stood Greta Fernsby, eyes wide and smiling broadly. In her hands was a basket of fresh apples, a token that Miss Haggins assumed was undoubtedly a peace offering of some sort.
‘What brings you here so early, Greta?’ she barked, alluding to her obvious displeasure at being disturbed from her much-needed beauty sleep.
‘You know better than to walk these woods after dark, don’t you?’ Her eyes darted nervously from side to side.
‘I’m ever so sorry to disturb you, Miss Haggins, but Glynda asked me to pop by this morning. We’re going into town, you know, for the Turning of the Harvest Festival. The launch is today, isn’t it?’
‘Is it?’ Miss Haggins droned, rubbing her twitchy eyes.
She glanced over to her diary, which was presently suspended at the top of a large pile of books that lay strewn on her kitchen table. With a reach for her broom, she nudged it sharply, and it hit the floor with a thud.
‘Let’s have a gander then,’ she sighed, retrieving it from the dust and popping on her spectacles, muttering to herself as she turned the pages of the most confusing calendar Greta had ever seen.
There were pages torn, pages upside down, pages falling out, pages levitating in the air, and pages speckled in ink; each page was decorated with dark, indecipherable scribbles which Greta could only assume was a very unusual writing of some sort.
‘Ah, here it is!’ she exclaimed triumphantly when she finally found the entry.
‘September 15th:’
‘7 am: feed the cat; 8 am: check for werewolves; 9 am: count the chickens; 10 am: hunt for toadstools; 11 am... Ah, here it is! 11 am: Join the procession for the Turning of the Harvest Festival. Well, I must say you are right, Greta, but I’m afraid that you are far too early!’
‘Well,’ Greta continued, staring down at her basket and trying very hard to conjure up her most enticing and diplomatic response.
‘You see, Miss Haggins, Glynda and I would very much like to put our names down for the “Spinning of the Leaves Ceremony” this year, and the first round of auditions is commencing today.’
‘You two? Miss Haggins spat out the cold coffee she had just poured into her mug.
‘Audition to go to Earth, of all places? What absolute bogglejingle. I must be hearing things!’
‘It’s true!’ Glynda replied, defiantly brushing past her aunt in the doorway. ‘Greta and I will be auditioning today as apprentices for the expedition to Earth on the 1st of October.’ Her chest swelled with pride as she smiled at Greta. ‘In fact, we intend to be the very first to apply. That’s why we’re up so early!’
‘Do you hear this, Humphrey?’ the frazzled fairy shouted to her partner, who was presently too busy snoring on the sofa, the sound of the projector still spinning in the background.
‘Eh!’ he slurred, hoping that would be enough of a response for Miss Haggins, who was now turning a dark shade of beetroot and looking angrier by the minute.
‘Get out here and listen to this!’ she scolded.
In a moment, a rather dishevelled-looking man joined the three of them in the doorway, followed by a waft of odour that Greta instantly recognised as the familiar scent of dragon seed liquor that seemed to follow him wherever he went.
‘These two.’ Miss Haggins pointed sharply in Greta and Glynda’s direction. ‘Apparently, they are going to Earth!’
A look of horror and disgust melted into her face, accentuating frown lines so deep one could only attain them after devoting oneself to an entire life of scowling. Then she composed herself and continued.
‘Girls, dear girls, you must understand how foolish you both look!’
‘After all, one does not simply waltz into Earth! You need credentials, qualifications, a perfect résumé, and a proven track record. You need a comprehensive awareness of the laws of magic and sorcery, extensive knowledge of the history of both Numa and Earth, not to mention outstanding fitness and no physical impairments!’ She threw a side glance in Greta’s direction.
Greta frowned.
‘Not to mention that humans are dangerous. Very, very dangerous. I can’t even tell you the sort of horrific things they do to their planet and each other! I do wish you had warned me that you planned to do this, Glynda! Just like your parents, you are full of magical dreams, yet no common sense!’
She cast a stern look at her niece, and for a moment, Greta thought she saw a tear beginning to form behind the steam that had camouflaged the worn fairy’s spectacles.
‘We’re old enough to make our own decisions, Helga!’ Glynda replied calmly, her sapphire blue eyes piercing the dim light. ‘Besides, you know the laws of Numa: “All fairies, unless deemed as unfit or incapable, must remain available for Earth duty. It is part of our destiny, is it not, to protect the future of planet Earth?”’
Greta stared at her best friend in awe.
Miss Haggins, still too flustered to answer, chose to abandon her tirade and retreated to elbowing Humphrey sharply in the ribs instead.
‘They’re right, ya know!’ Humphrey choked, ignoring the look of daggers that was already seeping into his peripheral vision.
‘The Laws of Numa do demand it! At least, in the Anwar territories, they do—you girls must enrol in accordance with state law. It has been our duty and tradition for over six thousand years to tend the upkeep of Earth. But I’ll be warning ya: the ale poured in a pint is often far greater than the cream that sits on top!’
‘What does that mean?’ Greta replied, feeling slightly exasperated.
‘It means you’ll apply, but likely you won’t be accepted. They only want the “cream of the crop” gallivanting off on these missions, ya know! They don’t like peddlers, cobblers, farmers—types of our sort. We’re no good for ’em. It’s common knowledge in these parts: only for the rich, they say!’
‘Only for the rich?’ Greta frowned, thinking to herself that this was a new level of complexity that she truly didn’t need!
‘You will get a trial day, though,’ he continued, stroking his beard. ‘Every fairy on Numa gets at least one day on Earth; it’s good for appearances, and it makes Pendle and the mayor look good. But the case for it is simple: you’ve got to have a silver spoon in your gob or be more gifted than the Oracle of Anwar herself, or they won’t even look at ya.’
‘It’s all poppycock!’ Helga interjected, clearly preparing to unleash yet another one of her bouts of unprovoked rambling.
‘Why should we help the humans? What have they ever done for us in return, hmm? Those humanoids never appreciate our endeavours, and they ruin most of what we do—tearing down forests and trees, polluting their air, and destroying their oceans!’
She paused for breath, her wings now twitching in sync with her eyes. ‘What’s the point? If they’re so intent on losing their world, then let them, I say! We’ve got enough problems of our own: the constant threat of civil war looming over our borders and the Scadu territories now proclaiming that traitor sorcerer as their King!’
‘And don’t you talk to me about duty, Glynda!’
She locked her niece in a cold, death stare.
‘It was duty that cost your father his life and broke your dear mother’s heart when she was barely older than you! It was duty that took my sister from me, draping her in shadow until she fell under the spell of a Scadufai and disappeared into the lands where we do not go.
‘It was duty that claimed you from my doorstep, and I’ve been stuck with you ever since!’
‘Well, it’s settled then,’ Glynda replied, clearly wanting this discussion to be over. ‘Either we are both doomed to fail, in which case you are right, or we shall be accepted, and you shall be happy to be rid of me, if only for a little while! Let us go, Greta. You can leave the apples by the door.’
And with that, the two fairies turned on their heels and disappeared over the hill before Glynda’s aunt could say another word.
It was around an hour's walk into town, but the two friends didn't mind. They were too busy laughing and joking, both giddy with excitement at the prospect of their very first trip to Earth.
One thing they both agreed was certain: nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to dampen their spirits today!
They passed dense thickets of Silverwood trees, following a trail that wound around the slopes of the Agor Hills, brushing past acorn, pine**,** and maple branches as they began the steep descent into the valley below.
The sky glimmered with streaks of pink, orange, and red as dawn approached on the horizon. Luminescent drops of dew dazzled in the dim light, complementing the shadowed foliage and contrasting with the hues of red, orange, purple, and green that adorned the forest floor like the strokes of nature’s paintbrush.
Small luminescent mushrooms lined the meadow floor, creating a carpet of colours that glowed as they walked past. Birds chirped in the trees above them, their song heralding the dawn of a new day.
Soon they reached a small clearing in the shrubs and a vantage point that Greta knew well.
There, they paused and stared out at the horizon that stretched for as far as their eyes could see.
Below them stood the town of Pendle, and for now it appeared that it had not stirred, the light from the street lanterns shining like specks of gold on the cobbled passages below.
All was silent.
In the distance lay the neighbouring villages of Beybor, Bigglehaven, Grebor, Began, Mecktor, Hazelhaven and Gyleberry, their street lamps glowing like golden fireflies in the twilight.
Around thirty miles to the east lay the town of Popple, its tall buildings barely visible through the morning mist. Parallel to the trail ran the Glowan River; its luminescent waters shimmered in the shadows like a silver path beckoning toward the Elvivé mountains. These crystal currents offered a sense of calm against the rugged terrain, where dense forests and dark vegetation claimed the land.
Far in the distance lay the Scadu territories, marked by a dark shroud of smog and shadow that had once lingered only in winter, yet now remained a permanent feature of the region. The land was looming and ominous; its forests dense, black, and twisted, and its riverbeds ran dry or flowed with putrid sludge. Here, the rain fell like acid, and green life could barely find a foothold in the desolate soil.
But the creatures who dwelt there were far worse.
They were known to be cunning and cruel, ghastly in appearance and filled with unreserved contempt for the fairies of Anwar and the humans of Earth. As conflict escalated, the Queen of Anwar had issued a royal decree: no fairy was permitted to cross into the shadowlands, and all trade was severed until a treaty between the two kingdoms could be reached. This, however, did not defuse the rising tension between the two regions. As the lands within the Scadu territories grew barren, the attacks on Anwar’s wildlife and fae folk became more and more frequent and desperate.
There were whispers of war and rising fear.
‘Forget all this fuss about Earth!’ Glynda teased. ‘Why don't we explore the black forest on the East Side? I've always wanted to go there.’ She pointed to a large patch of dense, dark woodland far in the distance.
‘You think we'd fare better in Scadu than on Earth?’ Greta chuckled.
‘Probably,’ Glynda shrugged, removing a stone from her shoe. ‘Especially if my Aunt has anything to do with it!’
‘She really is a grumpy old badger, isn't she?’ Greta replied.
‘She has her reasons,’ Glynda said, her voice trailing off.
They stood in silence, watching the first hues of red as the sun peeked over the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Dawn had broken.
Bong! The sound of a distant bell pierced the air.
‘What was that?’ Glynda asked, turning her ears to listen.
Greta did not answer.
Bong! It rang again, and several birds fluttered past them in a panic.
Bong! Another rang, this time echoing from the East, as a light flared from the town of Popple. Bong! Another beacon rose ahead, this time above Hazelhaven. A flash of light returned their call, and a loud horn blew in the distance. A chain reaction erupted; bells began to ring across the horizon like a symphony, while cascading golden lights glistened against the coming dawn.
‘They're waking up the bell towers of Anwar!’ Greta gasped with joy, and both girls broke into a sprint.
They ran as fast as their feet could carry them, tree branches brushing past as they raced down the trail. Soon, the crunching of cones and snapping of twigs were drowned out by a thundering symphony of bells, trumpets, flutes, and drums from every corner of the horizon. The entire landscape roared to life in a vast, joyous eruption of celebration...
— The Turning of the Harvest festival had officially begun!
***
The joyous roar of the festival felt a world away as the two fairies gingerly approached the audition tent.
‘Name and registration!’ a sharp voice barked, piercing the air.
‘Oh—hello,’ Greta panted, trying to catch her breath. ‘My name is Greta... Greta Fernsby. I’m here to enrol for the expedition to Earth!’
‘Have you got your registration number?’
‘Well, uh, no, I didn’t know anything about that,’ Greta fumbled. ‘My friend and I were told—’
‘This tent is only for approved and registered participants,’ the door attendant replied sharply. ‘We don’t do any auditions until you’re fully registered. Join the queue over there.’
She beckoned towards a tent several yards away, and Greta frowned as she saw the perfectly formed, single-file line of folk that circled it. Indeed, it appeared that almost every soul in Numa had turned up to apply. There were elves, fawns, centaurs, gnomes, leprechauns, bagglecrofts, bigglebabbles, brownies, pipplescoffles, and pregals. Even dwarves had made an appearance—something particularly unusual for such an early hour.
‘I bet you’re glad we came early!’ Glynda whispered as they finally approached the register.
‘Name and household!’ a voice bellowed. It came from a leprechaun to their left, perched on a wooden stool. Beside him, at a long table, sat a dwarf, a fawn, and an elf, all dressed in matching green. Beside them, stacks of parchment were neatly arranged in three separate piles.
‘Greta... Greta Fernsby!’ she replied, stepping forward. ‘From the Fernsby household. It’s up the hill, 12 Barrow Row.’
The fawn did not look up, but quietly scribbled something on his papers. The dwarf and the elf stared in silence.
The leprechaun continued. ‘Age?’
‘Sixteen. I just turned sixteen.’
More scribbling followed from all three of them.
‘Have you been to Earth before?’
‘No. This is my first time.’
‘What institution do you attend?’
‘Silverwood Halls. I—’
‘Any noteworthy skills or gifts?’ the leprechaun interrupted.
‘Well, I’m rather good at leaf colouring,’ Greta said, her voice small. ‘Or at least, I’ve been told I am.’
‘Very good. Any disabilities, ailments, or physical impairments?’
The fawn stopped his scribbling for the first time. All four of them stared straight at Greta.
‘Well, I—’ Greta stammered.
‘No, she doesn’t,’ Glynda interjected, swiftly moving in from behind her. ‘We are both capable and ready for Earth duty.’ She smiled with dimples so charming they could melt the heart of any creature on Numa that possessed one.
The fawn looked pleased as he ticked several boxes on his papers.
‘Thank you, Greta. We will submit your registration. You’ll be given a trial day pending any further checks. Your school will be notified of the date. That is all. NEXT!’
‘You lied!’ Greta scolded once they were safely out of earshot.
‘I did no such thing!’ Glynda winked, still beaming with that winning smile. ‘Your "disability" has never stopped you, Greta, so why should we assume that it will now? Come now, let’s get breakfast! I can smell hot pretzels with my name on them!’
Greta gulped but silently agreed. She loved her friend’s enthusiasm, but she also felt that this was a lie that would almost certainly come back to haunt her.
‘Thanks so much for reading! Since you’ve made it this far, please consider leaving a comment below. I love hearing feedback from my audience—it’s what keeps me motivated to post these chapters!
You can find art prints of ‘Greta’ and other characters from the book on my main shop page, available as both digital downloads and physical products. You can also be the first to hear about each new episode and when it’s released by joining my mailing list. All feedback is appreciated and warmly received. ❤️
Until next time...’
