is quite a fitting name for a villain, and yet Lythienne finds herself as the only Fae who can save . Born as an Empty Fae, she is sent into the Eternal Mountain, a prison designed for the most malicious, blood thirsty and cursed creatures alive. Her crime, along with so many other creatures, is being Lesser than the grand High Fae who rule the divided lands above. Aether rules Iverbourne, a whimsical land ravaged by long held prejudices, unkind to all those without magic. are a mysterious court to the south, kidnapping and murdering all those on their path through the continent. Only a Fae without Aether can wield the mysterious , a weapon of mass destruction needed to defeat the epic evil taking over the realm. The elegant call of immense power corrupts most, especially those who have been mistreated. lust, high stakes adventure and loyal companionship are thrust into Lyth's life, but can she be the Hero after playing the Villain for so long? After all, why would you want to save a world that wants to see you buried six feet under? Perhaps this isn't a hero saves the day story. Perhaps, this is the origin story of the Fae alive. Hundreds of blood thirsty Fae eyes burn on me, and every step is carefully placed. Lifting brass and leather goggles on a burgundy nest, I halt before The Machine. A massive undertaking of ancient technology, with spider-like copper arms weaving into the abyss below. Copper gears tower to the top of the stone chamber, making the labor camps behind me minuscule in comparison. Metal cranks together, belts purr, and purple smoke fills the air above, never ceasing. I trace along the cliff's edge, passing the ladders leading down into the trench reserved for Keepers, the only engineers allowed so close to the beast. While inspecting for malfunctions or leaks, the gauges on my leather and tech-covered wrist spin out of control. The lingering familiar stench changes, sweetness replacing death hanging in the air. Exhaust vents huff speckled night now, instead of the purple haze. In a place far from here, High Fae are Power. High Fae are Magic. We are not in a place far away though. We are right here. We work for The Eternal Machine, the beast conjuring magic and fueling the lands. Crimes of all kinds are welcome in this mountain, but you leave your magic behind. Rather, it is taken from you. Not that I know what that feels like. Minutes pass, the only sound is made by leather boots and a whining engine. I pause, halting before the foreman. A Grasshopper before a Bear. I snatch his dark matted beard and yank him down, tough knees meeting rock. Dull emeralds shine for a moment, his jaw tightening. My soft face brushes against his filthy cheek, my full lips meeting a pointed ear, a lover threatening sweet nothings. "Darling, what's this?"