Ascending Light

Shadows

Crysen was exhausted, mentally and emotionally; worn out from enduring the jeers and stares that were always thrown his way. He already knew he couldn't do anything and he hated the way everyone looked at him like he was nothing. All of his life, he had tried to embrace his lineage and gift, despite being powerless. He'd longed to be the light fairy that his father claimed him to be. For just a moment, he left it all behind and ran. He ran to clear his head and to release the frustration that followed him around like a shadow. He wanted to be normal and have actual friends. Instead, he got to be prince of a realm that didn't know he existed and wouldn't like him if they did. No one liked him but his father; the rest simply tolerated him.

Maybe if they knew of his power they would see him. But then they wouldn't see who he was. They would only see the power he wielded. He wanted to be a normal fae with one power and one path. Instead, he had the power of light, though it hadn't manifested, and a hundred different paths to follow at once. The light was more than a power to wield or possess, it was a being in its own right and needed to be respected as such. To be a light fairy, he must worship the light and learn it's ways: how to fight with it, how to heal with it, how to listen to it, how to converse with it, how to create a powerful bond with it, and how to use it for the betterment of all.

He didn't want any of it. He just wanted to live his life in peace.

His feet pounded against the forest floor as he escaped from his anger and the constant laughter and taunting that seemed to follow him everywhere. He ran from his path and the powers he didn't have yet. His mother wouldn't be proud of him. How his father could be was beyond anything Crysen could understand. He couldn't even hold enough power to maintain wings and that was the easiest thing there was to do. There were some fairies who couldn't do anything but fly, yet they were more useful than Crysen, the so-called prince of the Ancient Forest.

"Crysen!" His father was calling him.

Hearing his name only pressed him harder. He didn't want anyone's sympathy. He only wanted to be alone. He didn't need anyone's help for that.

Another voice chimed in. Gerald, of course. "Prince Crysen, please come back! It's dangerous!" How did they even know he'd left the village outskirts? His father probably knew. He seemed to know everything.

It was always dangerous. Gerald was always saying how dangerous everything was for someone as delicate as him. He was tired of being delicate and weak. He wanted to be strong like the others. He also wanted to fly like everyone else could. He wanted to be normal.

He felt something close behind and jerked his head around to tell his father he was fine, only to realize his father was nowhere in sight. Instead, he was being chased by a shadow. A real shadow with no definition but which oozed malevolence. He willed himself faster as terror took hold of him. His crashed ahead without destination, desperately trying to outrun whatever lay behind him. He screamed for his father, praying with all his might that the guardian would make it to him in time.

His heart hammered in his ears and his chest heaved as he ran aimlessly forward, quickly exhausting whatever was left of his endurance. He was not strong enough to keep this up but he kept going, pushing himself harder and faster. Suddenly, his foot jerked and the world tilted forward until he was dumped onto the ground. He pushed himself up with his elbows and wiped his face with his sleeve. He stood quickly and stumbled onward.

Before he could get more than a meter, he was stopped by the black tendril that shot out and took hold of his wrist. He grabbed for it, to throw it off, but another took hold of his other wrist, pulling them, and him, upward until his feet were no longer touching the ground. Suddenly the tendrils were chains and more were snaking their way around him. He thrashed and kicked to no avail, grunting from the effort and pain.