Template:Featured Articles/28-2025

Moment of Awesome - Megan Gwynn/Pixie: With Namor facing eternity as the thrall of the Fae, Megan takes some drastic - and painful - steps. Pixie's hand clenched instinctively around the hilt of her Soul Dagger. Her wings quivered, a hum building as her fury mounted. Her black eyes darted between the Grande Dame and Namor, who knelt beneath her command. I should have said something. The thought screamed in her mind, bitter with self-recrimination. When Namor had taken that glass of wine, she'd hesitated, assuming he knew what he was doing. That maybe fae rules didn't fully apply to the King of Atlantis. Now she had to act quickly to prevent the mistake from becoming permanent. She took a few steps toward Namor, unsheathing the Soul Dagger. It felt heavy in her grasp. She'd only ever used it against enemies, breaking the magic that held them together--like those creepy slendermen. Never on a friend. Now, she knew she must use it to sever the Grande Dame's cruel hold on Namor. "Namor," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I can't let her keep you like this." The Grande Dame glanced at Pixie as if only just recalling her presence. "Let me?" she laughed. "As if one of such thin blood could allow me to-" Pixie cut her off. "Allow? This blood is far stronger than you know, so don't think for a second that I won't do this!" The Soul Dagger flared in her hand, its pink glow contrasting against the green, otherworldly light of the chamber. She closed the distance, the weight of the moment pressing on her, giving her the sense of moving underwater. This wasn't just a weapon--it was a piece of her soul, and she was about to use it in a way that terrified her. It seemed to take ages, but in mere seconds, she was kneeling beside Namor. "I'm sorry," she repeated in a whisper, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. The pink glow of the Soul Dagger illuminated bands of purple energy, just barely within the range of vision when the light of the dagger caught them. The vines of enchantment flowed from the Grande Dame to Namor's chest. Pixie slashed at them, severing a few, but she knew it wasn't enough. However, it revealed a dark blot in the middle of their mass, centered on his heart. Blinking away the tears that threatened to blur her vision, she drove the tip of the Soul Dagger into the blot. With a sick twisting motion, she rooted out the anchor of the enchantment. A searing light exploded outward as the threads of fae magic unraveled. It felt as though the magic were fighting back, tearing at Pixie's soul as they snapped and sizzled around her, but she called upon her own magic to withstand the assault with every ounce of her will. When the light faded, Pixie collapsed to the floor, her breath ragged, still clutching the dagger. For a moment, she couldn't move. She turned her head weakly. "Namor?" She didn't have to turn far. Namor laid right beside her. Being that close, Pixie was privy to an up-close lesson in regaining composure – the pain evident in trembling muscles and gritted teeth was burned away and replaced with the cold focus of directed, murderous wrath. His face twisted like a screw. "All according to plan," he snarled. "Dame. The pact still stands."