Sleeping Roses

The Thirteenth Fairy

Kilan let out a breath.

He was hurting, quite a lot and he wasn't sure why. He was lying on his front, on what felt like hard ground.

Grimacing, he slowly opened his eyes and saw a beam of charred wood beside him.

He blinked.

Why was there burnt wood.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself up and sat back, looking around him, and his heart sank so low he felt tears block his throat.

He knelt, alone, in the middle of a scorched house, an expanse of beautiful clear blue sky above him, blackened wood and metal surrounding him like a nest.

He was home.

This was his home, from childhood, burnt to the ground after his parent's murder.

A soft stinging on his cheek made him touch the cheek bone and suddenly he remembered what happened.

Briar had suddenly woken up, and the attack that should have gone to Mother had hit him...

He looked up at the sky, listening to the silent emptiness around him.

So, did that mean that this was where he'd spend the rest of his days?

Alone, with nothing but the blue sky and a shell of a family home to accompany him? Could he walk the rolling hills and fields that he knew were beyond the garden or would the fence be the limit?

He looked down at the ground, his hands in his lap.

Was Briar alright?

Would she be alright? She had her brother, she had Beldon, she'd be alright.

Would she travel?

Would Luka keep her in the castle?

He gripped the fabric of his trousers, closing his eyes.

How he prayed she travelled. She wanted to see the world. She needed to see the world. If she didn't see the world... then what was the point of his entire future ending because of four stupid cut on his cheek.

"My, my. You arrive a few hours late to a party and you miss all the fun."

Kilan's head snapped up and he looked around in confusion.

He turned and scrambled to his feet.

Someone stood at the edge of the ruin, face and body covered by a floor length black cape.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"There are politer ways to ask ones name, young man," the woman said, lifting her head then pushing the hood back.

Kilan frowned. He didn't know her.

Black hair blew free as a gust of wind caught it, the sunlight reflecting steaks of a deep purple in the locks, matching sharp eyes that met Kilan's. She appeared to be older than him, perhaps the same age as Mother, though it was hard to guess the age of Mother in the first place.

"So, Kilan Denny," the woman said, unclasping her cape and pulling it away, folding it neatly over her arm and smoothing out the corset of her gown. She looked at him, then raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Kilan stared at her, then looked around. "Um... come in?"

The woman nodded and stepped through the threshold of the nonexistent door, taking a seat on a charred kitchen chair.

"And... who are you?" Kilan asked carefully.

"Mafeylina," the woman replied simply, "but that name probably doesn't mean much to you. Hmm, how was it you referred to me? Oh yes, The Thirteenth Fairy."