“I found the city devastated. The shopping district was aflame, and all that remained of the residential quarters was a charred crater. Survivors claimed a Tear had done it.”

--From Tears and Flames, A History

The nearest magical community was that of the Leffsprouts, a community of kindly fey who got along with each other and others quite well. They would kill the Tear on sight.

Her only other option was Dark Market, which, while a distasteful prospect, would have to do.

Dark Market was at least a day's walk away, but in that time, perhaps even before, the Tear’s magic would finish coalescing and other modes of travel would be available.

While she walked, the Tear planned. While she had been born with knowledge, it was of a general kind. Mount Trellis, as far as she knew, was an unforgiving mountain that was full of so much wild magic that the climate on one side of the mountain was tropical and the other side a frosty wasteland. It wouldn’t be wise to traverse it alone, even for a full fledged Tear.

Halfway there, when the Tear’s magic stabilized, she paused near a tall, old, many branched tree.

She pressed a hand to the bumpy bark.

“May I?” she asked.

In response the tree creaked and bent its topmost branches towards her. The Tear floated up to the branch closest to her, and the branch separated from the tree.

“Thank you, Old One,” she said. The end of the branch grew a small bush of branches and leaves, with a single prominent flower, and the rough bark smoothed out. A Tear’s magic worked best through conduits like this one. When the branch’s transformation was complete, the Tear ran her hand along the smoothness.

“That’s much better,” the Tear sat side saddle on the broom. She floated a scant bit above the tree line and sped towards Dark Market at a much faster pace.

The entry to Dark Market was past a circle of everbloom periwinkles, through an archway between a weeping willows branches.

Before she entered, the Tear hopped off of her broom and held it in her hand. Then she stepped beyond the periwinkle ring and through the willow door. Dark Market was not shadowed or dim. In fact, lanterns were being lit in preparation for the day’s end.

Abuzz with bargain makers and hawkers and young ones running through the streets, the Market’s bustle set the Tear somewhat at ease.

That was, until someone spotted her and the word ‘Tear’ spread down the streets. With her distinctive appearance and dress, there was no mistaking her for anything but what she was. The Tear hadn't thought this would be a problem in a place like Dark Market.

The noise level fell to whispers and hushed murmurs. A group of goblin women stared at the Tear, their faces pinched with fear.

The Tear continued down the street as though she hadn’t caused a disturbance. The streets emptied around her, doors shut and shades drawn. When the street was empty, only half the lamps lit, the Tear stopped, and laughed at the absurdity. She knew her sisters had gone to the bad, but to be so despicable as to make the less lawful, morally flexible of their brethren terrified? Had they truly degraded to such wickedness?

Once she gathered herself, she left the emptied street behind. She suspected Dark Market’s council would find her soon, if she didn’t find them. She would not blend in here and go unnoticed as she had hoped.

Towards the center of Dark Market a grand building stood, assembled of blooming flowers and blue and pink quartz. This was where all official business was conducted. The Tear went up to the huge doors. With a smidgeon of magic, they opened themselves, not a single scrape to be heard.

The Tear stepped through the doors, “Hello?” she called.

A large cohort of fey stood armed and ready to fight. The Tear braced her magic.

A Wolf stepped forward. His fur was golden brown and his expression stern, “We have no interest in your black arts, Tear. We don’t condone wanton murder. Leave now, and we won’t harm you,” his deep voice rumbled into the heights of the hall.

Even Dark Market refused her?

“Please,” she said in a loud voice, “I mean you no harm. I am not like my sisters, I swear on the pool of my birth!”

There was a tense pause. Her oath was not one to be made in jest.

“What are you doing here, then?” the Wolf asked.

“I seek respite.”

There was another pause as the Wolf considered her words.

The Wolf shook his head, his golden brown mane catching the light.

“If what you say is true, you will leave us in peace.”

The Tear did not betray her upset. “I will take my leave,” the Tear turned, and the hall doors slammed shut behind her.

So much for allies.