Ascending Light

Sentiments

The statue's face was upturned and her hands were outstretched in gracious acceptance of all that the light gave. As with all light fairies, this statue was graceful and beautiful, as enchanting as the rarest flower. Her soft, heart shaped face and large eyes were kind and indulgent with a smile that spoke of happiness. There was no other fae this lovely and her slim features only accentuated her beauty. This fairy was a mere memory to his father, who had seen her in real life. In fact, Emery Onyx, had done more than that, he'd bonded with her. After they ran away from the Temple of Light to be together. That was Crysen's favorite part of the story.

Crysen stared at the face of his mother for a long time while trying to understand why she left him to this horrid fate. He understood that she didn't have a choice and it was his fault she was gone because his birth was what had killed her in the end. His father always told him that it wasn't his fault, but he knew he was the reason she got so sick. All the healers in the kingdom couldn't help her overcome it in the end. To make things worse, Crysen had inherited it from her and the dark, cold, intensity of winter made even breathing difficult for him. It was the one thing she gave him that he wished she hadn't.

The wingless statue was all that was left of her for Crysen to spent time with. Emery had taken the wings off of all the statues in their garden whenever it became clear that Crysen was a 'late bloomer.' He had realized his son was sensitive about the whole not-having-wings thing. He was the only fairy in the village his age without them now. At this point, he was pretty sure he was never going to get his wings. He might never be the light fairy that they claimed he was and it hurt to think about.

When the forest elders arrived, their disapproval of Crysen's uselessness was tangible. They still saw him as a prince of the realm and listened to what he had to say but not because they liked him. They wished his mother was still here with her gentle and ever present grace. They respected his father immensely and enjoyed holding council with him, but Crysen was not good enough as he was. They didn't believe he would ever get his wings either and it infuriated them to think of Amber's power being lost.

Crysen's mother had been a very powerful light fairy, a very rare and highly regarded fae type. Only one bloodline held the power of light and that was the one he descended from. Amber had been the heir to an entire kingdom before she had escaped with Emery. When Crysen was born, the most powerful light fairy in all of Faelyna died. Thus, the elders saw him as completely useless and wished he'd never been born. Soon after their arrival, Crysen escaped to his mother's memorial, his usual place of comfort.

Emery walked up after a while and crossed his arms, staring at Crysen with a frown. He was tall and muscular with large arms and thick legs to support all of his strength and power. His hair, as dark as night with a blueish hue, was pulled up with a tie and fell down past his shoulder blades. "Didn't you want to go see the little ones dance, Crysen? It's getting close to time." Emery's face was handsome with his angular jaw and cheekbones which accentuated his stern black eyes.

Crysen looked up and nodded. "Are you going with me, daddy?"

Emery shook his head. "I have to stay here and hold council with the elders. They'll only be here for a couple of hours so I'll come find you at the marketplace when we're done. Gerald is going with you. And your guards will be there, but they won't be near you, just as you like." Emery was a vital part of the council and an amazing leader. After Crysen's mother passed, Emery took over as the sovereign of the Ancient Forest, a position Amber hadn't actually wanted, and had done so well that the elders almost revered him.

Crysen sighed and stood, brushing off his backside. "I'll go get dressed." He looked down at the tunic and shorts he wore. He liked pretty things and short things. His father always said to wear what made him comfortable but some of the other fae laughed at his dresses. But really, he looked worse trying to wear the more male-looking clothes people were always giving him. He either looked depressingly awkward or he drowned in them. Dresses fit his figure better anyways and he was proud of that. If he were more masculine he'd give up his dresses but he'd never had to do that. And for that he was glad.