Alys

Chapter 1

          I held my grandmother’s hand in my own. She was the only one I had. I was the only one she had. The silence between us was not awkward. It was more of a solemn silence, welcome with an implied sense of premature grief. Large raindrops beat loudly but calmly onto the tree trunk we lived in. The small room pertaining only of our two bodies, the bed, a small wooden table complemented with two chairs of the same design, and a few other pieces that made the place homely.My grandmother’s light green wings had become a leaf-like brown color, slowly preparing for her decay as they drooped weakly against her bed. My own dark purple ones fluttered slowly and lightly, like that of a resting butterfly. I cannot say how long I had been sitting there. It seemed days. I took care of her. I made her food, collected nectar, dewdrops, and occasionally, fruit. I helped her to eat and told her to rest. I told her stories to pass the time and she would tell me some in exchange. She was dying. We both knew it, yet we did not admit it or deem it appropriate to converse about. It was an unspoken truth. She had not complained a word. Not gone through any of the stages of death. There was no denial. She knew she was going to die, as did I. Just because we did not speak of it did not mean she did not believe it. I could see it on her wrinkling face. There was never any anger. She never snapped at me and I never yelled at her. We were too precious to one another to waste our last memories on quarrels. I had never heard her bargain. Not a single word to the trees or the animals. Not even a small prayer to The Great One. She was never depressed. In fact she was happy. She was proud that she could look out the small window of our home and watch the leaves change their color one last time. The green that wilted to brown before their fall, just like her wings. She smiled at every miracle of nature around us. Drinking it in like a newborn seeing the world for the first time. She looked more lively than usual. I suppose if she was going through any stage, it would be acceptance. She was content that she had lived a full life as she had told me many times before. Her dark green eyes stared out the window now. The large drops of water splashed onto the window. My violet eyes could not help but focus on what she was looking at. My grandmother’s long white hair appeared to be floating under her, submerged under calm waters.

I wish I took after my mother’s side of the family. I never knew what she had looked like, but my grandmother had told me that her and my mother shared similar features. I am said to take after my father. Thick, long dark hair and pale skin. My dark purple wings have a unique pattern of black spirals that cascade the length of my rough-edged wings beginning from the tips and ending in random patterns, intertwining with other twists and turns. I take after that of an eventide fairy. The forest fairy in my blood is about as evident as the differences of identical twins. Grais, my grandmother’s first name and the name I call her by, told me of their love. There are four groups of fairies. Water, flower, forest, and eventide. The classes are allowed to communicate and interact with one another, but not permitted to mate. The fairy society is adamant that a child from two different respective races will become a mutation. My mother, Sophee, and my father, Vika, fell in love despite the harsh views of society. They had never married for fear of being discovered. After they had seen many full moons of secret meeting, I was conceived. Grais delivered me and she recalled my parents thanking The Great One for my looks and that I do not look like a half-heart, a slur the other fairies use for the children of two separate races. When I was not even a year old, the other fairies discovered my parents love for one another. Grais made sure they did not find me and escaped to the home we live in now, far from the main fairy society. Sophee Kimell and Vika Ligh were chased savagely. They flew for their lives away from that others. Sophee managed to get away, but it is rumored that she was chased so far that she became lost in a great forest leagues away. She was never seen again. Vika was not as lucky. The others caught him. He was locked in a cell for days before being sent to face a gruesome death. Grais had told me on the sixteenth year of my life of the details of his death. I now wish I had not begged her so profusely to inform me. When the squirrel was done with him, its chestnut fur was stained red and all that remained of Vika were a few torn bloody ligaments. Half a wing here, his jaw there, a toe beneath the squirrel’s dwelling. The other fairies cheered on his death with pleasure and watched eagerly as the furry beast mangled his flesh. When the squirrel had left, the other fairies collected his remains. They burned them, leaving no trace of him for the rest of the world to see.