My father had wanted to travel to Farrow’s Gate to understand the wild magic there. I begged him to go, and he allowed it, even letting me ride him in dragon form, something no one else could do. He said it was because I was part dragon and needed to understand how the wind felt against my skin.
We’d just landed, and as my father began to transform back into his human form, I wandered toward a cave, enticed by the purple mushroom caps growing outside.
There was no warning, only the cold, biting fear of a predator, and the rush of beating wings.
My father shouted my name, ordered me to run.
A shiver ran through me as the fear of that day came slamming back.
I’d tripped.
Faltered…
The rage of my father blasted forth in a cone of fire over my head. The intense heat singed the hairs on the top of my head.
The massive shadow-winged beast screeched. Its wings beat cold bursts through the sky. It dove for my father, who screamed a blood-curdling war cry and dodged out of the way.
Grass wilted underneath me, death spreading across the ground.
I cowered like a scared babe, covering my head and closing my eyes, too terrified to move or act. It wasn’t until my father scooped me up in his clawed hand and flew us back home that I even registered the attack was over.
That was the last time my father took me off the castle grounds.
Fisting my hands, I remembered I was no longer that scared fae who couldn’t even run away.
Calling a shadow to my fingertips, I twirled it around my pointer finger.
Out of all the elements and mutations possible, mine manifested as shadow. A cruel twist of fate from the All Father.
Darkthings were becoming more legend than truth, or at least that was what I’d believed. Until now.
Down here, closer to the ground, there were increasing whispers of these monsters and for some odd reason, their existence hadn't faded.
More stories of them were heard, which made little sense. If they could not breed, then how could their numbers be growing? The Rift into the Never had closed the only passageway between the realms.
I left the dead female and walked out, searching for other signs.
Olivia flew toward a secluded grove next to the village with big cobblestones paving the way. I unlatched the gate to the stone archway. Inside were various trees and built into those trees were beautiful wooden houses. Not large enough to fit someone my size, but certainly would fit a pixie.
Olivia frantically flew to the first one.
The door wasn't open, and she soared through an open window and fled back out.
“Anything?”
She shook her head and flew to the next one, checking every small home, searching for her kin.
While her family didn't originate from this region, pixies did not have tribes, clans, or courts like the other races. All the pixies considered themselves one group, and they were violently loyal to each other and their fae king.
“They must have escaped,” I said, ready to leave the little grove.
“Not all of them.” She glided to the bottom of one of the tree trunks, the high grass almost as tall as her. She searched through the blades and lifted something so small, I couldn't see what it was until she fluttered back up.
A young pixie lay in her arms. She lifted the tiny creature to her head. “He's still breathing.”
“Then he comes with us.”
Olivia’s eyes watered, and she hugged the tiny pixie to her chest; his wings were barely sprouted. Mossy brown hair curled around his pointy ears.
