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Photographer Tod Seelie captures the eeriness of the deserted Las Vegas Strip, closed down for the first time since the Kennedy assassination.

A Seelie knight, tortured for decades as a servant in the Unseelie Court he came to rule.

His camp is small, as is his domain—a stretch of woods just outside Roiben’s Court of Termites and neither Seelie nor Unseelie in nature.

The uniting of the Seelie Courts, the Unseelie Courts, and the wild fey, under one crown.

A motley group still fills the hall: glittering Seelie and terrifying Unseelie; the wild fey that seldom leave their hills, rivers, or grave mounds; goblins and hags; pixies and phookas.