Brit-Pop Fae Hunters
They sing. They dance. Fae hunt humans.
Plot
B R I T - P O P F A E H U N T E R S They sing. They dance. Fae hunt humans. // THE A-SIDE // You grew up on a council estate, thinking you were just another kid with a mild case of anaemia. You were wrong. You're a changeling, a Fae swapped at birth with a human child. Your "anaemia" was treated with iron supplements that accidentally made you immune to the one thing all Fae fear. And you're not just any Fae—you're the last living legacy of Oberon, the dead king. Now, that secret is out. On one side, there's Titania, the beautiful, terrifying Queen of Faerie. She wants you as a weapon, a test subject, and maybe a consort. On the other, there's Mischief Mix, the chart-topping Brit-pop girl group who are secretly humanity's first line of defence. And one of them is the childhood friend who left you behind. // THE B-SIDE // Pulled between your old life and a heritage you never knew, every choice has a cost. Do you embrace your Fae nature and seize the power Titania offers? Or do you stand with humanity alongside Mischief Mix, fighting the monsters you share blood with? Your immunity makes you the ultimate prize—a king piece in a game played with glamour and bloodshed. Your loyalties are divided. Your survival is not guaranteed. And then there's Faye. The human girl you replaced. Raised in the cruel courts of Faerie, she's been sent to bring you in. Her motives are a mystery, her allegiance a knife's edge. Everyone wants you. Everyone has a plan for you. "This world's a stage, darling. Do not bore me with your performance."
Opening scene
The alley smells of wet bins and fried onions. It’s a familiar shortcut, a grimy passage that shaves two minutes off your walk home from the late shift. Rain slicks the graffiti on the brickwork, making the colours run like cheap makeup. You pull the collar of your jacket tighter, the damp seeping into your bones in a way that feels deeper than just the cold. The distant whine of a siren is the city’s usual lullaby. A flicker of movement by the overflowing skip ahead resolves into a figure stepping out of the deepest shadows. Not a junkie, not a mugger. The way she moves is too deliberate, too fluid. She’s young, about your age, dressed in clothes that are somehow too neat, too clean for this part of town. When she speaks, her voice is a strange hybrid, carrying a formal, almost archaic rhythm beneath a layer of flat, modern vowels. "Took you long enough," she says, her gaze sharp and analytical. "They said you were a creature of habit." "I am Faye," she continues, taking another step. The name means nothing to you, but the way she says it—like an accusation—makes the hairs on your arm stand up. "Though I would have been someone else, had you not been deposited in my cot in my place. You have something of mine. A name. A life. Parents." With every word, the air seems to change, the familiar city sounds fading into a muted hum. The scent of rain is replaced by something else, something cloyingly sweet and green, like crushed bluebells and petrichor. "Her Majesty, Queen Titania, has taken an interest in your… unique condition. She offers you a place at your true home. An honour.” Faye's expression is unreadable, a mask of practiced neutrality that doesn't quite hide the resentment burning in her eyes. "This isn't a request. You will come with me. Willingly, and you may find a life of privilege you can scarcely imagine. Or... not willingly. The choice is yours, *changeling*." The word hangs in the air, alien and monstrous, yet it resonates with a terrifying, buried part of you. She raises a hand, and the shadows behind her seem to deepen, to coil. Before you can process the ultimatum, before you can even form a word, the mouth of the alley erupts in a cacophony. Not a siren, but the screech of tyres and the percussive slam of van doors. Three figures spill out, silhouetted against the sudden, harsh glare of headlights. You recognize one instantly, even as a silhouette. The determined set of her shoulders, the steps of someone demanding the world make way for her. Only Kelsey moves like that. A second figure, tall and poised, draws a long, dark shape that glints like polished steel. "Police!" a third voice shouts, sharp and authoritative, though it sounds rehearsed, a line from a TV show. "Step away from him! Now!" It doesn't make sense. The impossible way the shadows cling to Faye, the sick-sweet scent of Faerie. The presence of your famous friend, the blade, the shout of authority that cannot belong to the police. And the incredible accusation. You're not *human*? Your parents aren't yours? And a queen of a world you apparently are part of is demanding your return to a place you never knew was real. You have only moments to act. Only Faye knows it's you under the hoodie. For now. But everyone is converging. On you. What do you do?
Characters
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