The Awakening--Original story---(WIP need feedback)

Here for your enjoyment is the prolouge and first few chapters of my original story The Awakening. Please feel free to give me your feedback and suggestions.


What I am about to tell you is the truth; the unaltered tale of the birth, death, and rebirth of our world. You may be surprised at how different my story is from the one you hear the bards and dancers tell around the fire. Alas, those who put history to song to fireside story have the unfortunate habit of adding and removing things they should not. The penholders add their own perspective; the bards add romance where there is none and joy where, in reality, there was only tragedy and death.

I wish I could start in the beginning, but I cannot. I knew not the story of my true past for so very long that it only appropriate that I start with my awakening, for, though it is not where it all began, it is the event which started my story and sent our world spiraling into a period of darkness and war the likes of which had not been seen for millennia.




I have since been told that my awakening spanned the course of a hundred years. The twitch of a wing, the movement of eyes beneath closed lids, the slightest parting of the lips: all signs to the monks who guarded me that I would soon awaken. I think, in that timeless, numb sleep, that I dreamed. Though of what, I will never be sure. I vaguely remember brief flashes of emotions in the void of unconsciousness; anger, fear, wonder… but of the images that accompanied these emotions, I can recall nothing.

I woke gradually, slowly clawing my way out of the infinite darkness that was my magical slumber. My mind was foggy at first, my thoughts slipping away before I could grasp and understand them. At first, there was nothing but absolute numbness. Of my body, I felt nothing. Indeed, at that point, I wasn't even sure if I had a body or even what a body was. But as time wore on, the numbness slowly dissipated and I remember my first physical feeling being one of intense cold.

After a period which could have lasted mere seconds or even years, I know not which, my elusive thoughts became more coherent and I became aware of my own great confusion.

Where am I? Who am I? What am I? Why is it so cold?

These questions drifted unanswered through my clouded mind as I slowly became more and more aware of my own body. Specifically, how utterly cold and uncomfortable it was. I felt oddly weightless, and I got the impression that I was somehow floating, as there was nothing solid that I could feel beneath my feet.

Instinctively, I tried to stretch my freezing limbs, only to find that I could not move. My brain was too muddled to fully send the message to my limbs that was required for movement. My inability to move caused me to feel a faint tinge of fear that penetrated my clouded mind, driving me further towards full awareness. I struggled to move my frozen body, and was finally, with an intense effort, able to clench my hands into tiny fists, the freezing cold making even that small movement painful.

I managed, briefly, to force my eyes open, but immediately shut them, uttering a tiny mew of pain as I was blinded by a brilliant light that seared my sensitive eyes with intense, burning pain. My head pounded and my eyes ached horribly, and I hung there shaking for a long time as I waited for the pain to subside. Eventually it reduced to a dull ache and I finally worked up the courage to attempt to open my eyes again. Bracing myself, I forced them open again and struggled to keep them open long enough to adjust to the blinding light.

Spots of bright light danced before my eyes as they slowly came into focus and I was able, for the first time, to examine my surroundings. I found, to my infinite confusion, that I was floating midair inside what appeared to be a brightly glowing sphere. The walls of my odd surroundings pulsed with a radiant white light that hurt my eyes to stare at. As hard as I tried, I found it impossible to see through the walls of my prison (for a prison was indeed what it was).

I did, however, take great comfort in seeing my own small body for the first time. Great knee-length locks of silver-blue hair floated around me, seeming to give me a silvery aura. I found, to my alarm that my skin was tinged dangerously blue with the cold and, as I looked at it, I realized that if I did not find a way to warm myself soon, I would most certainly freeze to death.

This realization gave new strength to my frozen limbs and I twisted around, suddenly frantic, my wings pushing against my prison walls, to no avail. I did not know who, what, or even where I was, but I was very aware of the danger of my situation and of an overwhelming need to break free from my icy confinement. As I struggled vainly against the glowing walls and thought, I have to get out of here! It grew colder the more I struggled and I began to know true panic. Was I to die a cold and lonely death, knowing nothing of myself or where I was?

I was cold, so very cold, and the tears of pain that leaked now from my eyes quickly turned to ice in the air and floated around me, sparkling like hundreds of tiny diamonds. My body was tired, finally, from struggling and, with a feeling of utter despair, I managed to curl into a tiny shivering ball and wrapped my wings and hair around myself for warmth.

I must have blacked out then because I remember the sound of many voices startling me out of unconsciousness, I could hear them clearly but their words made little sense to my ears. There were dozens of them, all babbling frantically away in some unintelligible language, until one deep and distinctly male voice rose above them all in a sharp, demanding tone.

"Vala! Hetara la cora celesa tone!"

Immediately, the babbling ceased and I heard slow footsteps that stopped right outside of my prison.

"Vaskui," the voice said, apparently talking to me, "Mala sahlay?"

Confused and in pain, I shook my head, looking toward the voice as if staring at the wall of ice that imprisoned me would help me to understand his words.

"Mala sahlay?" he asked again, and I closed my eyes with a feeling of despair. How could I ask for help if I couldn't understand him? I opened my mouth and attempted to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. I coughed violently then tried again. This time, I was both surprised and pleased when the voice that flowed past my lips had a pure, sweet sound to it, almost musical in quality.

"Please," I pleaded, "I don't understand! Please tell me where I am!"

I heard the astonished babbling of the voices beyond the sphere until the man's voice silenced them again.

"Sahlay non," he said his voice suddenly gentle. "Hayta tron?"

I shivered violently and a few more tears slipped from my eyes. If only I could understand what he's saying! I thought, I could ask him to let me out of here! It's so cold!

"Please!" I cried, "I don't understand what you're saying! Please just let me out of here, I'll freeze to death if you don't!"

The man gasped a little in astonishment at the sudden desperate tone of my voice. I found myself wishing that I could see him and wondering what strange language he was speaking. He was silent for so long after that, that I began to wonder if he had left, abandoning me to an icy death. The hope that had flared inside me at hearing the voices faded as I waited, growing colder by the minute and beginning to despair completely of escaping, resigning myself to death.

When, finally, he spoke again, I jerked in surprise and cried out with the pain the movement brought me.

"Hetala… tala cad free mala san?" his voice was soft and hesitant.

Hope flared again in my heart. I understood some of that!
"Yes!" I cried, nodding vigorously. "Free! Please free me!"

The man spoke again, this time more confidently and in a slow and deliberate voice, "Free? Rare sala allowed nisa free noa?"

My eyes widened in sudden understanding. This man obviously knew little of my language and was trying his hardest to communicate with me. "Free? Are you allowed to free me?" I repeated his words. "Is that what you said?" I nodded and made a show of struggling against the walls of my prison. "Yes, please! Let me out! Free!"

The man made a pleased sound and I heard him bark what sounded like a command to the other voices, followed by the scrambling of many hurried footsteps. Did he understand me? Are they going to help me?

As if in answer to my thoughts, there was a sudden enormous clang on the outside wall of my prison. I grinned in triumph. They had understood! The clanging continued and suddenly a crack appeared in the walls. The sight of this flooded my freezing limbs with new strength and I began to once more struggle violently against the confining walls, kicking and stretching against them, and finding to my delight that they were beginning to give way under my efforts.

More cracks appeared and I kicked violently at them, delighting in the feeling of freeing myself. I don't know how long we labored, me and my mysterious benefactors, but what seemed like hours later, I kicked at a particularly large crack and suddenly found myself falling.

I caught a brief glimpse of a rapidly dissolving glowing ball of ice above me, my former prison, and of a large room that appeared to be a temple full of men in silver robes. My mind had only a second to register this and an overwhelming feeling of warmth, wondrous warmth, before I hit the floor and slipped once again in to the black void of unconsciousness.




I was dying. At least that's the only way I know now how to describe the feeling, having been very close to death many times in my lifetime. I felt as if I was falling endlessly. Then slowly, before my eyes, the darkness gave way to a scene, which I witnessed as if from a distance.

A small girl cowered on the floor, shivering in fear and pain as a large man stood over her, as rough and cruel looking as his voice sounded when he snarled, "Scum! Filth of the Earth!"

The words seemed to trouble the girl more than the vicious kick to the stomach that followed them. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and covered her head with her arms. She clenched her eyes tightly shut, losing herself to a world of pain. She appeared to be unaware when the blows actually stopped but the loud laughter of the man, his receding footsteps, followed by the slamming of a barred door seemed to startle her.

It was a long time before she moved, but when she did it was with great difficulty and obvious pain. Blood streamed down from where she had bitten her lip, and dark bruises were already starting to cover her body. Any normal child in her situation would have cried. But the girl just sat there, leveling her blank gaze at the wall of her prison cell. "I know you're there." She whispered. "Go away and forget me. Forget this. Forget everything."

And I was lost. Falling away from the scene and into another endless void.


I remember my second awakening as a rather violent one. It was as if my spirit was thrown violently back into my body because I jerked upright with a startled gasp of agony. My wings ached horribly and my head decided that pounding unpleasantly was a good idea.

I opened my eyes but saw nothing. The room I was in had no light, but the surface under my aching body was soft and comfortable. I stretched tentatively and gasped as I realized that I was clothed in something that felt silky and wondrous against my skin. I was alone in the dark, I had no idea where I was or who I was, and I was in terrible pain.

But at least I was warm.

Warmth. The feeling was wondrous. Pain could be ignored when the body was warm and comfortable. I spent my second period of consciousness reveling in that new feeling. The fact that I could not see did not seem to matter to me. The last time I had seen anything, it had been accompanied by that horrid feeling of cold and pain, but this darkness was warm and did not burn my eyes. I was content.

I lay slowly back down and squirmed in comfort at the soft surface beneath me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was amazed at how calm I could be when I had absolutely no idea who or where I was. But it didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered but the way I could curl into a ball and wrap my wings around me, the way I could feel their soft feathers against my face and my pulse thrumming slowly and steadily through my body. I was alive and I was warm.


My third awakening was a quiet one. One of gentle stirrings against warm sheets and the fluttering of eyelids as my mind gradually returned to the waking world. The first thing I noticed was the light. No longer was I surrounded by the comfortable darkness that had lured me to sleep. My surroundings were rather featureless. The walls were stone, there were no windows. There was a large steel door across from the cot I lay on, but it held to interest to me. What drew my attention was the globe of light that floated against the wall near me, bathing the room in a soft glow.

Staring at the light made my wings twitch and the blood thrum in my veins. The sensation felt somehow familiar, but at the same time strange.

Magic.

The word came unbidden to my mind but it felt right. Natural.

I spread my wings experimentally, surprised when the movement brought me no discomfort. Encouraged, I stretched my limbs, reveling in the feeling of cloth against my skin. It wasn't much. Just a silk slip that had holes in it for my wings, but it was comfortable.

Tentatively, I pushed myself to my feet and stood there, wavering unsteadily for a few seconds before I spread my wings again for balance. Well that wasn't so hard. I took a step forward and then another one. The feeling of the cold stone beneath my feet made me shiver but I continued forward until I could reach out and cup that glowing globe of light in my small hands.

My body tingled pleasantly as a feeling of warmth suffused my wings and they spread in response. This feeling, this magic, was something I knew. Something I should remember.

Remember? The thought was strange. Did I have anything to remember? Had I led an existence before that great slumber?

Did I have a name?

I made my way back over to the cot and sat down, disturbed by my thoughts. The idea that I was nameless made me uncomfortable.

…a brief glimpse of a rapidly dissolving glowing ball of ice above me, my former prison, and of a large room that appeared to be a temple full of men in silver robes…

My eyes widened. Those men! The ones that freed me! The thought was like a lightning bolt in my brain. Suddenly the room around me seemed confining and dreary. How did I get here? What about that temple? Is this just another prison?

…a man in a silver robe leaning over me, lifting me from the ground, wrapping me in a warm cloth…

A startled, "Ahhh!" escaped my lips as the image flashed before my eyes. The room spun around me.

The world was burning. Everywhere , twisting columns of flames leapt up toward the sky, sending black pillars of smoke into the air…between the flames, flickers of writhing bodies, people twisting and screaming in agony, blood gurgling in their throats…

Stop!" I cried, "No more!"


"Go away and forget me. Forget this. Forget everything."


My head throbbed at the unbidden images and I closed my eyes with a small mewl of pain. I felt none of the warmth and comfort that I had upon waking up. The feeling of helplessness that I had felt in my glowing prison overwhelmed me once more. My head pounded with a maelstrom of images, wild and unfamiliar. It hurt terribly and I curled into a shivering ball, and for the first time in my short memory, I cried.

And it was the sight of my miserable, huddled form that greeted the first person to step through that steel door. I wasn't even aware of his presence until a soft, "Mala sahlay?" penetrated the haze of my confusion and tears.

Looking up, I met the concerned eyes of a tall, dark-skinned man wearing silver robes. The instinct to flee rose up inside me but I ignored it. His voice….he's the one who freed me!

I examined him warily. He was bald, and had deep-set lines in his face that gave a rather severe look to him. It surprised me to see that he had no wings sprouting from his back, as I did. The thought that I was somehow different disturbed me.

"Who….who are you?" My voice sounded small and afraid, even to my ears.

The man's forehead wrinkled as if in deep thought and he answered slowly and carefully, "Hetara cele…" He pointed at his chest, "Issanel."

Issanel, I found myself thinking, that's his name? I wonder if he knows my name…

"Who am I?" I asked, pointing to myself. "Do I have a name?"

The corner of Issanel's eyes crinkled as he smiled down at me, "Hetara…cele san?"

I shook my head. This was getting us nowhere. If only I spoke his language!


The following weeks passed in a blur for me. Though, now that I think on it, they must have crawled by for Issanel. He spent his time with me leading me around the temple touching various objects and people and speaking their names until I could repeat them back to him word-perfect. The monks met my eyes as they were introduced then bowed politely when I repeated their names back to them. They seemed a bit awestruck by me, often gazing at my wings in open-mouthed wonder.

The first few days were hard on me; my legs were weak and shook under me as I walked. The tasteless food, Issanel called it "bread", I was given to eat didn't do much for me either. I spent the time I was alone in my room flexing my wings and wondering at their purpose. I was different. It was obvious every time I saw Issanel or another one of the monks. They were tall and bald, with broad shoulders and serious eyes. I was short, skinny, with knee-length silver hair and white wings. The more I learned of their language, the more out of place I felt.

Every time the great temple doors were opened and I caught a glimpse of the bright world outside, I found myself inexplicably upset and restless. My wings would spread and the breeze that ruffled through their feathers left me feeling light headed and dizzy with a giddy sort of pleasure. Days passed, and I spent less and less time alone in my chamber and more time getting to know the monks of the temple. They were quiet and humble folk clad in simple silver robes. Most of their days were spent in quiet meditation, and though they treated me with respect, they did not seem especially responsive to my clumsy attempts at conversation.

I tried a few times to leave the temple, but was stopped each time by Issanel, who assured me with what little speech I understood and some hand gestures, that I was not ready quite yet for the outside world. It frustrated me to think that I was trapped inside. I delighted in the learning of their language and each day I spent in the temple left me feeling a little less empty. But I yearned for….something. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it had something to do with that tingle in my wings every time they caught even a hint of breeze.

From what I could understand of the monks' speech, I learned that their temple had been built around my prison, and that I was a gift from their goddess Raeya. I didn't feel much like a gift. I felt more like an out of place girl, an alien in a sea of routine and normalcy. I felt confined; as if I would go mad if I had to spend my life in that dreary little temple.

Issanel saved me from madness and boredom. He was always there for me, answering my questions and correcting my speech. He did not treat me with the awe and avoidance of the other monks, but rather like a prized student. It brightened my day when I said a sentence or word correctly and earned a proud smile from the old man.

As the weeks went by and my grasp of their language grew broad enough for me to start speaking more confidently I finally gained the courage to ask Issanel if he knew my name. The monk's eyes closed for a moment and he sighed, a small unhappy sound. "I do not know your name little one," he told me, and my heart sank in disappointment. I bowed my head and stared at my bare feet, wriggling my toes against the cold marble of the temple floor. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see a kind smile on his wrinkled face. "Lianna," he said.

"Lianna? Lianna…" I rolled the name around in my mouth. It felt nice. "Is that my name?"

His eyes were sad as he gazed down at me and shook his head. "It is not. But it seems to suit you."

I cocked my head to the side, considering. This man, Issanel, had saved me from my icy prison, fed me, and taught me his language. He had treated me with nothing but kindness and respect. And now he had given me a name.

I felt my eyes sting with unshed tears and heard Issanel's surprised exclamation as I fell to my knees and allowed myself to cry. Through my tears, I heard him plead with me not to cry and that, if I didn't like the name he could find another one. I shook my head violently and hiccupped, as I looked up at him, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "No….no….it's not that…"

His face was blurry and frowning through my tears but I smiled at him anyways. "Thank you….father."

To this day if I close my eyes, I can still clearly see the look of amazement on his face.




When I was allowed outside, my world opened open incredibly. That first step out the temple door blinded me temporarily as the sun shone down into my sensitive eyes, but I didn't mind. I was content to feel that incredible breeze against my skin, ruffling the feathers of my wings. My whole body was alive and tingling with feelings that were all at once strange and familiar.

My vision cleared up and the sight of the sun rising triumphantly over snow-capped peaks that jutted majestically into the sky all around took the breath out of my lungs like a blow to the chest. The temple, sitting atop a steep slope, was a brave and glowing sight in the sunlight. My face hurt and I realized that my smile was threatening to split my face in two.

"It's beautiful!" I cried out to Issanel, who stood in the doorway, beaming at me. "How do you ever bring yourself to go inside?"

The feeling of green grass beneath my toes was luxurious. I wriggled them in pleasure. My wings twitched restlessly as a sudden gust of wind sent a thrill through me. I threw my head back and spread them, reveling in the feeling. A nagging voice in the back of my head complained that there was still something missing, but I ignored it. This was wonderful.

Who knew the sky could be so blue? I thought in wonder. It called to me, even then, naive as I was. I wanted to fling myself into its unbroken splendor and lose myself in the winds that sang through my blood. I jumped, startled at a chuckle from Issanel, who had moved to stand beside me.

"I would have let you out sooner, but I was afraid you'd just fly away." His eyes were light and cheerful, dancing with good humor.

Fly…

The thought of flying made the blood race through my veins and my wings twitch wildly. Beside me, the old man favored me with a fond smile. "Soon, Lianna. You need to gain a little more strength still, I think."

I frowned briefly as a wave of rebellion swept through me, but shrugged it off, deciding to defer to Issanel's wisdom. It was enough for me to be out of that stuffy old temple and away from the quiet humble monks.

I'll always remember that day as one of my best. Sitting on the grass with Issanel by my side pointing out mountain peaks and formations of rocks and clouds to me. I learned that the mountain the temple stood upon was called Del'thoa and that the path down led to a small village called Yiras. The thought of new places fascinated me, and I remarked that I would like to see this village someday but he only laughed and ruffled my hair fondly.

When the sun was starting to set in a blaze of brilliant colors, a monk brought out some dried salted meat and fruit for us to eat, with mountain spring water, fresh and cold, to drink. We stayed out on that mountain slope long into the night, as Issanel traced the constellations for me. I learned of Niyomin, the great hunter that always pointed North to lead lost travelers home. And noble Utan the bear, whose widespread arms hugged Jamine the fox to his chest.

I delighted in the sight of Luna in her full glory, ringed by brilliant stars. It was a breathtaking view that could inspire the most unimaginative of minds and I knew I would remember it for the rest of my life.


The morning found me in my cot with a vague memory of being carried there by Issanel when I had been too tired to bring myself inside. I closed my eyes with a small smile and the memory of that blue sky leapt to my mind. I wanted to give myself to its perfect glory, to feel the air sing beneath my wings and through my hair. The very thought of flying made me restless enough to get out of bed and spread my wings. The stone floor was cold beneath my toes as I opened the door and swept out into the hall, smiling welcomingly at the first monk I passed. I wanted to feel the morning air on my skin and feathers. My wings swept outward as I made my way to the great doors, adding speed to my step.

With a great push, the doors swung open with a screechy protest and I threw myself into the morning, ready to bask in the beauty that was the outdoors.

What greeted me was more horrific then I could have ever imagined.

I had only seen them once before, but I was sure that clouds were not supposed to be such a bloody shade of red, nor the sky so dark and foreboding. And though I had only been told about the phenomenon that was rain, I was sure that it wasn't supposed to be black. Rain didn't hiss and devour the green beneath it, turning it into a twisted charred mess.

I stood there in horror for only a moment before I threw myself back into the temple shouting for Issanel. He could fix this! He could make this horrendous landscape go away. He could bring back that perfect world I had seen the day before. "Issanel! ISSANEL!"

He came skidding into the hall, his robes a mess as if hastily thrown on and his eyes wide in alarm. "Lianna, dear? What's wrong?"

I was shaking, my legs weak under me and my wings wrapped around myself as I pointed at the monstrosity that used to be the world outside. I caught a glimpse of his face twisting in shock and horror before my world flashed white and I fell to the floor. His concerned face drifted in and out of my vision and I heard him pleading with me to get up, as if from miles away.

Then the screaming began.

To this day, no matter how hard I think back and try to remember it, it's still just a confused jumble of horrible sounds and sensations.

Issanel screaming as the roof above us started to melt and the black rain hiss down upon the monks of the temple. His agonized cries as he covered my body with his own. The taste of blood on my tongue and the screams and bloody gurgle all around me as the black rain stripped the men of their flesh. The last deafening cry of Issanel and then his bloody face staring down at me, whispering "Live on Daughter…". The agonized scream ripping from my throat as his eyes went glossy and his ragged body limp. And then….nothing.


I woke to find my face pressed sideways against the marble floor and the puddle of cold blood there. Thinking back on it, I suppose it's a miracle that I didn't drown in it while I was unconscious. A hideous smell invaded my nostrils and the unbearable weight pressed down from on top of me crushed my wings tightly against my back. For a few brief, blissful moments, I was unaware of the horror of my situation, I suppose shock kept the memories at bay. But only briefly.

"Live on Daughter…"

I screamed. My hands scrabbled franticly at the blood slick surface beneath me as I attempted to throw the weight off my back. I pushed with my wings and thrashed my body and finally managed to escape, rolling to the side and coughing violently as a fresh wave of noxious air met my lungs.

The sight of the mangled remains of Issanel that had protected me ripped a scream from my throat. I rolled away from the grisly sight and emptied my stomach, until I could only manage dry retches and broken sobs. Through teary eyes, I caught glimpses of the ruined temple around me. The bodies of the humble monks lay scattered around me, stripped of most of their flesh. The smell of burnt flesh and black acid was unbearable. The walls of the temple were a ruined mess.

I suppose I could have taken solace in the fact that the sky was again that gorgeous shade of blue and the clouds were white again, but the sight of the ruined landscape sent a fresh wave of sobs wracking through my body.

It was the sight of me soaked in my beloved father's blood with crimson-stained wings, surrounded by a scene of utter devastation that greeted the next band of humans to meet me. They came up the mountain path riding strange beasts with long snouts and flaring nostrils that ran on four legs ending in intimidating rock-like stubs, trailing long manes and wispy tails behind them. They were all at once graceful and frightening. The men riding them were a sharp contrast to the humble monks that had been all I had known, hairy and rugged, clad in worn leather and armed to the teeth. They terrified me.

The man in the lead spotted me first and pointed, yelling "Demoun! Demoun!", as he urged his mount forward and drew his weapon. The word was unfamiliar to me, but it had an unpleasant and oily sound to it and the sight of that terrible beast and his rider bearing down on me triggered some deep instinct in me.

Flee! Fly away!

My wings beat of their own accord as I stumbled to my feet, and I cried out in alarm as my feet lifted briefly off the ground. This wasn't right! Why were these men attacking me? Maybe if I talked to them…

FLEE!

The instinct was undeniable, and I had not the will to fight it. Fear and desperation gave strength to my wings as they gave a massive heave and I found myself lifting off the ground at an incredible speed. Muscles unused to flight screamed in agony as I caught a warm pocket of air and instinctively stretched out my wings, soaring. The man on the black beast screamed after me, "We will avenge the slaughter of the Del'thoa monks, Demoun!"

But I didn't do it! I wanted to shout. I wanted to fly down and plead with the men to believe me, to tell them of the hideous rain that had slaughtered my beloved monks and dissolved the temple I had called home. I wanted to beg them to take me to safety. But my wings drove me away from the scene even as I shouted at them to stop beating, to let me fall to the earth and join my father in death's embrace. This was not how I had envisioned my first flight. It was supposed to be in front of Issanel's proud eyes in the air above the temple as the sun caressed my wings. Not fleeing from a scene of utter destruction and death. Alone.

I came to rest at the base of a shallow cave, my chest heaving with ragged breaths and my wings sagging in exhaustion and burning in pain. I managed to drag myself into the safety of the cave before I collapsed to the ground and lay there, trembling. "Issanel…..Issanel…." his name tumbled from my lips as I wrapped bloody wings around myself. "Where are you father? Can you hear me? I'm so afraid…."

No stars shone through the clouds that night and even Luna looked lusterless and unimpressive to me. Try as I might, I couldn't pull an image of Issanel to my mind. He was truly gone.


Another awakening. This one less traumatic but far colder than my last. Stiff-winged and weary of heart and mind, I approached the mouth of the cave to greet the foggy dawn. It was of small comfort to me that the air no longer reeked of death but was as fresh and clean as I could have hoped.

Part of me wanted to ignore my throbbing wings and fly back to the temple, to prove that it had all been a horrible dream. That Issanel's blood hadn't really stained my feathers crimson. That I wasn't really alone. The other part of me was hungry and interested in the sound of a stream trickling nearby.

What in the world is wrong with me?! I wondered, horrified. How can I be thinking of food at a time like this? I need to go back, those men can help me I can start again I can---

"We will avenge the slaughter of the Del'thoa monks, Demoun!"

Remembering the man's words, I knew I couldn't go back. To those people, I was a monster. As far as they knew, I was the one who had caused the destruction at Del'thoa. I sighed and winced as I stretched throbbing wings. Food. I had to find food. I could worry about my future later.

It's hard, trying to find something edible when you've never been on your own, never had to provide for yourself. Water was easy enough, there were numerous streams trickling around the area. But food was hard. I didn't have the heart to attempt to capture and kill one of the small furred animals that scampered around me. I eventually settled for berries I found growing on a bush a fair distance from the cave.

I ate as much as I could fit in my ravenous stomach, stuffing my face greedily and letting the juice drip down my chin. Not since my first awakening had I been so hungry. With each mouthful the throbbing in my wings lessened until all that remained was a dull ache. When I couldn't eat another bite I became aware of another strong urge. Stripping free of my ragged clothes I bathed myself in a stream, taking care to get every last drop of blood from my wings and skin. I left the cloth where it fell. The thought of keeping something soaked in Issanel's lifeblood sickened me.

The cold air on my naked skin felt wonderful and I spread my wings in tribute to the sun that was just deciding to peek through the clouds.

I toyed with the idea of flying back to the cave but discarded just as quickly. Though my wings no longer burned with exhaustion they were still sore, and if I wanted to take to the sky anytime soon they would need rest. And so would I.

I was tired and although the idea of sleeping on a cold stone floor did not appeal to me I knew, even naïve as I was that sleeping out in the open would be sure folly. So I walked and enjoyed the life around me, letting the sun dry my wet wings and the basic instincts of survival overpower coherent thought. If I was to be alone, so be it.


After that, time meant nothing to me. I lived in the mountains as a beast would. I had cast aside the protection of clothing, of people, and thrown myself into the ways of a wild creature. I slept in the open under the stars and the silent observation of Luna. In the beginning, I ate only of the roots and berries of the plants, but that was not enough to sustain me, especially as I began to practice flying. I needed something more substantial to support my strengthening muscles, something to give me the energy I needed to travel further away from Del'thoa; to leave my old life behind me.

And so I found myself sitting on the shore of a large lake in the valley of a snow-capped mountain. My reflection regarded me coolly, her skin coated with dirt, her wings half spread. I paid her no mind. My attention was focused solely on the flickers of movement beneath the surface. Meat. Fresh meat. The creatures had no name to me as Issanel had never described anything like them. They went against everything I had seen before, existing under the water without air. It seemed unnatural to me. But I had seen hawks and even bears feasting upon the scaly, finned creatures with relish. If they could do so, so could I. It was catching one that was the problem.

The creatures had avoided my grasp for days. Foolishly, I had assumed that their scales would make them easier to grasp, only to find that they were covered in a thin layer of slime that made gripping them difficult. I had tried diving at them from above unsuccessfully, learning the hard way that wet wings kept me land-bound. Lunging at them from the shore also proved ineffective. I found myself at a loss. The flickering of silver bodies under the surface mocked me and I scowled at them as my stomach decided to voice a violent protest at the lack of food.

This is getting me nowhere, I decided. The fact that the day was overcast and dreary did nothing to improve my mood. I hated not being able to see blue skies above me. I wanted to feel the sun on my wings, but all I got was rain.

"What arelaughing. At me.

I found myself, inexplicably, offended and forgot my fear momentarily as I spat, "And just what is so funny? Who are you? What are you?"

He regarded me lazily, eyelids drooping. "You are. I am Lhasaron of the Meron, strange one. And I wouldn't dream of eating something as stringy as you."

Now that I think back on it, his words could have been interpreted as a compliment. At the time, they simply annoyed me.

"…..Stringy? You'd be stringy too if you couldn't catch something to eat. I am Lianna and I don't know what I am, but I know that youUnlucky? That's an understatement.Stick around? He wants to stay….with me? For some reason, the thought of having someone else around again, even if it was a ferocious-looking talking feline, filled me with warmth. I had been alone for so long. I stood and looked down at Lhasaron, a slow smile creeping its way onto my face. "I'd like that."

I fell asleep that night to the sound of a content purr.

So there it is. I'm currently working on the next chapter but I need feedback and my friends are biased. Thus, I turn to you people. Please let me know what you think.