~Chapter One~

The golden orb of the sun was set low in the sky, casting an orange refection through the trees and upon the still, crystal water pool. Lying on her stomach, Mylia Anaviel sighed, flicking another gray pebble into the water, causing the brilliant colors to blend and ripple. Spread about her thighs, and slightly bundled, was a maroon skirt, frills of lace trimming the edges. It had been a gift given to her that morning by her mother for the day of her birth, stitched by a very crafted hand. Her mother had always made her clothes, and every piece done to perfection, but this peticular dress she prided in.

A long day of laughter and celebration had passed, but Mylia cared for none of it. Today marked her one-hundred and twenty-fifth year, her first day into womanhood. Somehow, she thought she would have been happier for this day to come. Now, she had a slight feeling of dread. The women of her race were usually married the day, or the week that they enter womanhood, but not her.

She raised her bare feet into the air, the delicately curved calves exposed and her widely spread ivory wings stretching straight above her back. Brushing a strand of golden hair from her cheek, she raised her eyes from the water to the trees, peering through the branches. The sun was lowering quite rapidly, and she knew her parents would begin to worry if she did not return before sundown. Perhaps they’d even call upon Torik to seek her out.

Mylia nearly snorted.

Torik was the most sought after Elf in the village, but each day, he had come to her, telling her that when she was of age, she would become his. That no other would deserve her as much as he did. She should have been overjoyed by his advances, others her age would have, but she did not. Her parents approved of him; they practically even shoved her in his direction more than once on an occasion. His dashing smile, that mane of flowing silver hair, and eyes that sparkled like sapphires, making every woman swoon when looking into them.

Everyone but her.

Pushing herself to her feet, she brushed off the crumbled leaves and dirt that clung to the front of her low scooping dress, a fashion that every woman wore, mostly to entice the men. Her wings closed against her back, and though reluctant, she started off toward home. So many times she had come to this spot, if not just to simply think. When she was a child, Mylia had stumbled into this secret paradise, and since that day she could not help but venture into it often

Stepping through the brush, she gazed about her. Trees, thick and thin. The forest was a beautiful place to her, but at times, she felt trapped. And the closer she neared home, the more she was suffocating.

She finally grew nearer to her village, the sun already hidden over the valley of trees, the sky filled with bright colors of magenta and violet. As she reached the stairway that led up onto the wooden platforms, she couldn’t help but stop and watch until the sky was covered by the blanket of night.

When it was all over, she turned her head to face forward and slowly began to ascend the steps, the long dress swaying softly with her movements. Upon reaching the top step, she glanced about curiously. Many had gone into their homes for the night, most usually are due to the fear that the night brings for their race, especially the carnivore Hawk breed race that were quite fearful amongst her people.

Long ago they had gotten along as if they were brothers and sisters, each living in harmony. That was, until, they began to think themselves superior because the Avian’s appeared more human, therefore, instead of beautiful, they were a disgraceful race. She had always wondered what one would look like up close. Pictures were nothing compared to the beauty the Hawk breed held.

Making her way across several bridges held by only thick rope that was strung from one platform to the next, Mylia came to the door of her home. Hand upon the knob, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. As she stepped across the barrier, the sweet smell of freshly baked bread instantly drifted into her senses, and a warmth of a brewing fire enveloped her, letting her realize just how cold she really felt. Winter was soon on its way, the season her race loathed the most. Food was scarce. The prowlers hunted.

“Mylia, where have you been!” exclaimed Amenia as she hurried toward her daughter. “Torik has been asking for you all afternoon since you disappeared so abruptly during your own celebration.” Wiping her hands upon her apron, the older woman sighed and turned from her daughter. “Well, hurry and shut the door. You are letting in a draft.” Waving a hand carelessly in the air as if a flick of her wrist could close the door, Amenia returned to her task at the round, flour covered table, shaking her head. “I swear you have caused more ruckus than any other young women of your age has. To disappear like you had, during a festival that happens but once in a woman’s lifetime! It’s the most important event to ever happen to you.”

“I’m sorry, mama,” Mylia said softly, really meaning it. She closed the door behind her and rested the palm of her hands flat against the carved wood. Though she did not feel sorry for leaving, she did because she had caused her mother so much grief over the years. She knew she was not the perfect daughter, she just could not help the way she felt. Something else pulled at her, and she only played along like a puppet with strings.

“You should be sorry, making that poor boy wait for your return.” Amenia continued, cleaning the mess on the wooden table. “You really should be more responsible; not to mention more honored that he has waited even this long. I sent him home some time ago before you arrived, but he will be back tomorrow morning, so you had best be up and looking your best my dear.”

Watching her mother’s winged back, Mylia tried to hold back her crude comments. “Yes mama,” she whispered instead.

Amenia finished wiping the table and covered the freshly made bread with a long piece of clean linen. Turning, she looked to Mylia. “Good, now run along and ready for bed. It’s late and you’ve had a long, tiresome day.”

“Thank you mama.” Walking from the room, she made her way down the small hallway, turning into the closest room on the right, softly closing the door behind her. All her mother had cared about was her absence when Torik had been there. She understood that it meant a lot to her mother, perhaps even her father, that she wed one of the most desired out men in the village. Why, they would be the most talked about, and all of the other women’s envy would be directed toward her.

But she did not want their envy!

With a heavy sigh, she moved further into the small, though comfortable room. A soft bed rested against one corner of the room, pushed against the two connecting walls. Next to the bed sat a finely crafted nightstand. Her father had traded for it when she was younger, and thought it would be something Mylia would enjoy. On the other side of the room, a long wooden rod ran the length of the room, where colored dresses hung, various in color and shape.

Above, Mylia could hear the footsteps of her father as he paced the upstairs study. She knew he would be in there when she arrived home. Each night, that would be where he spent his time.

Undressing, she slipped the sleeves off her shoulder and carefully untied the ties behind her neck, letting the fabric on her back fall back. The dress slid to the floor, and beneath it on Mylia’s lithe body, was a simple white gown.

Crawling into bed, easily seeing within the slightly darkened room, she lay on her stomach, head turned to the side. She gazed out of the open window, seeing the light of the moon, thinking of how quickly the sun had faded. Eyelids growing heavy, they drifting shut.

“I don’t know what to do with that girl!” Amenia raged silently to her husband. “She never listens. It’s as if she does not care for Torik.”

Sitting on the edge of the neatly made bed in the upstairs bedroom with his elbows resting on his knees and hands folded, Calan stared at his wife. He too, knew of his daughter’s behavior, but he was the silent one, letting his wife do the scolding when it came to Mylia. He never did have the heart to do so. “Perhaps we are pushing her to quickly, my love. We could give her more time to get to know the boy. She will give in soon enough. He is, after all, a very good charmer.”

“She should already be wed by now! Most of the young women are married either before the celebration of their womanhood, or the day of it!” Her slim hands cupped her cheeks, looking upwards.

Rising from the bed, Amenia’s husband stepped up to his wife, taking her hands into his own. “Be calm, dear wife. Even as this day marks her womanhood, she is still but a child. Our child. She may not take after us. We were wed on the night you became a woman, but give her time.” He bent his head, kissing her lips.

For the first time after Mylia returned home, the woman smiled as her dark green eyes gazed into the face of her loving husband. She was indeed a lucky woman to have this man. Though quite shy in his younger years, Calan was a dashing man, and even now, he still was. Dark blonde hair brushed past his bare shoulders and smooth chest, still nicely toned through the years she had spent with him. His features strong, though delicate as their race was, with a defined square jaw and thin lips. His eyes, such a light blue they almost appeared white, looking straight into her soul, revealing to her the love he still, and would always carry with him.

“Come wife. Let us rest. We can worry of about these things another day,” he whispered, pulling her toward the bed.

She followed willingly, instantly forgetting of Mylia and her other problems as Calan pulled her into his inviting arms.