Word count: 6,430

Word count: 6,430

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Dove Cameron as Neenah Fynn

Sitting at my vanity I held my face in my hands as I tried to even out my breathing. My nerves were high. My anxiety was high. I was on edge. Today was the day I had been waiting for since my father told me about Endeavour Academy back when I was just eight summers old.

I was thirteen summers old, meaning I was in my prime. I was no longer what the faerie society called a Fayelette. I was a Faye. I was now old enough to learn how to harness and develop my powers so I could get my wings.

From the moment of birth a faerie is called a Fayelette until they reach the age of thirteen they were then considered a Faye- an adult.

I was now an adult in my father's eyes. Though, I didn't feel any different than I did when I was twelve summers old. Then again, I didn't want to feel any different.

Sighing, I sat up straight, staring into the mirror at my reflection. Picking up my hairbrush I ran the bristles over my hair to give my hands something to do.  When I finished I set my brush back down and then glanced back into the large oval mirror.

I became an faye three moons ago, but I didn't feel any different. In fact if I was never let aware of my birth moon I could have assumed that I was still a faylette. As I looked at my reflection I tried to find any physical hint that I had changed at all, but I saw none.

My skin was still the same, flawless, porcelain shade, that reminded me of the glass doll my father brought me two Springs ago as a birthday gift. My hair a porcelain blond color that fell just past my shoulders at the same length it had been since last moon. My nose was still perfectly small. My lips were the same pout shape in a gentle pink and my gray-blue eyes, bright and big as the day before.

I felt the same. I looked the same. I was the same, but I was a Faye.

Movement near my bedroom door grabbed my attention and I shifted my focus to my fathers reflection that was now standing behind me.

"Happy birthday, Honeybee." My father said as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. He then stared at my reflection in the mirror for several long seconds and then said, "You look just like your mother."

My eyes held my face and then flickered to my fathers. I shook my head and replied, "I don't think so, dad. I think I look like you."

Of course I thought that I looked like my father. I never had a picture of my mother to compare myself to. The only thing I knew about her appearance was that she closely resembled me, we had the same eye color and the same hair color. But so did my father. I could point out several aspects of my features in my father. We also had the same hair color but our eyes were slightly different in color.

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