Fai Faiva. The merchant hissed at me as I dropped a withered sac of golden coins onto his wooden countertop, tucking my new steel blade convincingly into my black boot. Fae. He practically spat at me. The world was split because of my blood- because of what I was. Little did the mortals know how heedless I felt about them. Partly because I needn't be threatened by a lesser, weaker, and unsustaining kind; and partly because even if I wanted to use my fae abilities, my parent's would apprehend me. It happened to my sister, Synne Dagnall, when we were 8 years of age. Synne discovered that she had the ability to manipulate an entire psyche- from a person's thoughts, to their inclinations and wildest desires. We were in the courtyard of our schoolhouse, the sky painted with the cries of the children yet to come. I was sitting on the overturned stones, eating some stale bread offered to me by my brother earlier in the morning, when I observed Synne as she attempted to tease one of the older boys. She had an unequivocal crush on him of course, and what else is there to do other than tease the boy, in hopes that he teases you back, making you feel like you just swallowed a dozen stones. I truly will never understand why one chooses to fall in love, it is exactly that- a heavy feeling in your stomach that does not go away with medicinal herbs, or even a stream of salty oceans spilling from swollen eyes. But that is beside the point. Everyone in our small village knew what we were, and despite Synne's charisma, carried in her beautiful golden locks, the boy was not having her impassioned advances.
"Get away from me you freak." The human boy snickered and turned to all of his friends, as various chuckles broke out amongst the group.
"But you told me you liked talking to me," Synne pleaded as she took a step forward with pouting eyes. She wasn't lying, that much was true. One of our many fae abilities included the gift of amplifying sound from yards away. I remember him speaking those exact words, as I listened from inside of the house, one night when Synne snuck out to see him.
"I never said that. You're a freak and a liar," the boy began as he stepped forward and used his palms to shove my poor sister to the ground. This was the moment where I immediately stood up and searched for a schoolmaster, in hopes an adult would do something. "Let's get her!" The boy screamed as his friends formed a commanding circle around my sister's tattered body.
"Stop!" I wailed, as my legs took over and I sprinted across the courtyard, only to be intercepted by a plumpish boy with inflated arms. He squeezed me so tight that my chest felt as if it was collapsing on itself, unabling me from tending to my sister.
"Help-" my sister choked, wrapping her arms around her skull, as she was brutally kicked and stomped on by the 6 boys in the circle.
I didn't really know how long it went on for. All I remember was seeing bouts of blackness, followed by blood splattering across my thin legs. I remember thinking how useless I was. What good was super strength and heightened senses if all I was to accomplish was a front row seat to my own sister's death? At least that's what I thought at the time. I didn't know this event would be one that changed everything.
I remember opening my eyes again and screaming for my sister as her body went limp. I thought her mind had escaped her, that she was gone.
Until the boy leading the attack stopped.
He stopped kicking.
He stopped stomping.
He stopped cheering.
He strolled over to the bed of stones I had been sitting on across the courtyard, with his assailants halting in their positions, and watching carefully. With a stoic expression on his face, the boy picked up a stone, turned and faced his group, and brought the stone to his head in one quick movement.
And then again.
And again.
His friends watched in horror as the boy beat himself bloody with the stone. Screams erupted throughout the group, and I swear I could remember one of the boys soiling himself before he ran off the property. I was released as the rest of them followed suit. I ran over to my sister and placed her head in my lap, stroking her crimson-turned curls.
"Please don't be dead, Synne." I sobbed, bringing her forehead to my own, unconcerned with the boy's own inflictions. I heard a thud as I whipped my head around towards the boy's body laying lifeless in the courtyard.
"Gemma." My sister muttered, still weak in my arms. I had forgotten how much I had enjoyed hearing her saying my name.
"Don't worry, Synne. I'm going to get you home." I mustered all the strength that had almost been squeezed out of me, as I lifted my sister in my two bloodied hands.
"Gemma- don't tell mother." Synne whispered, fighting to keep her eyes open.
"Don't tell her what?" I cried, shaking Synne to get her to respond.
After a long pause, I felt stones form in my gut as I listened to my sister whisper, "I killed that boy."
I snapped out of my thoughts as the merchant slammed his weathered fist onto the wooden plank separating us. "Get out of my sight, fae."
I blinked at him a couple of times, and contemplated snatching back my gold before I decided that I didn't need it anyway. When we settled here, the humans were so afraid of us hurting them, that they offered up every remaining bit of riches they had. My family took some from the more fortunate families, and swore on the heavens that we meant no harm to them, so long as we should stay here. We would even offer protective services, should some ravagers try to loot the town. Not that us kids would be that helpful- at the time, none of us had grown into our abilities at all. Some of the humans were bold enough to get to know us, and enjoy us; while others believed we were nefarious and steadfast beings. Ever since, they have wished we would return to Veloria, the lands of the fae, where the air was much kinder.
I approached our stone cottage anxiously, checking to ensure my new weapon was tucked away out of my mother's sight. We were suppressed in more ways than one. Not only did our parents discourage us from using our abilities; we weren't allowed to train, or fight, or yield a weapon that could do harm. Should we be caught- there would be severe consequences. Like how Synne was locked away in her room for 36 days with only bread and water following her attack 11 years ago. I remember the day she was finally let out of her room. I looked into her eyes as I attempted to pull her in for an embrace, and all I could see was the reflection of those pointed, bloodied, stones.
"Mother-" I began as I took a seat in the leather armchair across the room. Her hair was gray, and her knuckles were white from squeezing the publication I often found her examining time after time. It was the lore of the ruby witch- a creature so hateful that she cursed every fae's reproductive viscera, in an attempt to end our kind. 18 long years ago, my mother gave birth to triplets, fully draining her of her fae abilities, forcing her to live out the rest of her days as a feeble, mortal woman.
"Where have you been?" She snapped, as she laid her book in her lap, searching my body for magic. Her eyes were grieved, and her hands began to shake. I could have swore she was willing to reach down into my soul and rip a fist full of my magic right out for herself.
"I was visiting the merchants- looking for a new text for you to read."
She crossed her arms and squinted at me hatefully, as she groaned, "I don't want another text." She paused before she opened her book again, and widened her eyes, hoping to read in between the lines.
I sat there uncomfortably, feeling my weapon jab me in the ankle. I wondered if she believed that after reading the lore a billion times- the cure would just fall out of the text and into her old, frail, hands.
Without looking up at me, my mother spoke, "I received word that your sister is befuddled at the local tavern again." I rolled my eyes. An unspoken order to retrieve Synne before she takes it too far. This was becoming a part of my daily routine.
I gently got up from my chair, careful not to induce an open wound as a result of my poor weapon stashing method, and made my way to the front door. This would be the time that my mother would call out to my siblings, threatening them not to use their taleni. The word we used to describe our singular, unique strength, assigned to every fae at birth. My sister's taleni was mind manipulation, and my brothers: flight. However, mine remained untapped- undiscovered. Broken. And it haunted me on my entire trek to the tavern.
⚔︎
When I arrived, Synne was not hard to locate. She was the most beautiful woman in the establishment- a perk of being a fae. We were faster, stronger, could listen more intently, and see way beyond any mortal could fathom. On top of that, our physical attributes were enhanced. Short hair would grow longer and thicker, our skin was tanned and resembled a glow. We would never get sick, and couldn't be wounded by simple, mortal weapons.
Synne's looks enabled her to become a master manipulator. She would practice her ability in discreet places like this- away from home. On this particular day, a group of 4 men swooned over her. This typically wouldn't be unusual, but I observed as the men took turns sharing passionate kisses amongst themselves, occasionally planting a few on my sister's neck. She let the chaos ensue while she sipped wine from a golden decanter.
"You've gotten real good at this." I muttered, approaching the fantasy lazily. My sister whipped her head around, her golden curls falling down the small of her back, and smirked confidently at me.
"Look boys- Gemma's here to join us." She spoke flirtatiously as she rose from her stool and wrapped an arm around my waist.
"Words getting back to mother about your extracurriculars. You need to end this facade right now." Synne stared blankly at me.
"No thanks." Synne spoke as she let go of my waist and made her way back to her seat. She shooed the men away as she topped off her wine. I followed her closely and sat in the stool next to hers. "Tell me Gemma. Don't you ever wonder what's out there? Past this village? Back in Veloria?" She asked me curiously, already knowing the answer.
"You know I do, Synne." I looked at her sad eyes, fixated on the bottom of her glass. "We don't belong here," I admitted, revisiting my dreams of Veloria for just a moment. "But that's why we need to play nice. I don't want an even larger target placed on our backs. Our parents would never survive."
Synne looked at me very matter-of-factly as she spoke, "So what if they don't."
I took a second to allow myself to dream of a world where fae weren't cursed indefinitely. A world where a man and a woman could share offspring and not have to relinquish everything that makes them exceptional. In that world, maybe I would dare to fall in love. In that world, maybe Synne wouldn't have to manipulate men in order to feel some type of emotional satisfaction.
"Forget I said anything." Synne demanded, throwing back the last of her drink, making her way over to the group of men. She sat on the younger one's lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, looking towards me. "I'm going to bed this one, and then I'll be home."
She stared at me blankly, a sign that I needed to leave the tavern. I held her view for a second, hoping that maybe my glare of disapproval was enough to sway her to come with me; but all I could see were two jagged pieces of slate that didn't belong.
I arrived back home at sunset.
When I entered the cottage, I found my father setting freshly baked bread onto our dining table. This was common for our family. While my mother was burying her nose in books about spells and witches, longing for her powers to spontaneously return, my father had learned to bake bread. And then he learned how to chop onions and carrots, and combine them into a broth, finally topping his creation with fresh herbs and spices. He didn't stop there. He learned different cuts of meat from the local butcher. He learned how to create the perfect roast. He learned which wines paired well with which dishes, and through it all, he accomplished a new taste of life.
"Gemma!" My father exclaimed, before bringing a wooden spoon filled with soup up to his nostrils. "Try this."
He smiled at me and my heart settled. He never made me feel guilty for being a fae like my mother did. In fact, I think he savors the mortal life much more than he ever did his old one. I wrapped my lips around the edge of the spoon, giving his soup a taste. I nodded and made sure to raise my eyebrows at his dedication. The reality was that mortal food all tasted pretty bland. It was nothing compared to what we had in Veloria as young children. But since my father enjoyed creating, I realize I've taken enough from him as it is.
"And Synne?" My father looked at me inquisitively.
"She said she would be right behind me." I half whispered, as I took my seat at the table. I thought of my sister and her need for closeness with males. I wondered how it made her feel, whether or not she actually enjoyed bedding them, or if sex was just an itch to scratch. I wondered how she could be so careless, and risk losing her powers by producing a child. I was astounded by the fact that it hadn't happened already. I remember asking her once how it was possible, and she explained to me that she manipulated the men in such a way that they would never finish, even though she did. Perhaps it is her revenge for what happened to her when we were 10. All I know is that sex seems to be a one-sided exchange, in which one or both members of the party are internally suffering.
"I'm sure she will be stumbling through the door at any moment." Thomas, my brother said as he entered the room with a bowl of vegetables. He set the bowl down gently, and took his place next to me, uncomfortably shifting in his seat. I looked at the two protruding mountains on his back, wondering how he can ever rest comfortably with wings. Thomas has the fae gift of flight, born with two black stumps in place of scapulas. Of course, he was never encouraged to learn how to use them- so his wings are frail, thin, and gray, like those of an ill bat. It causes him pain for anyone to even touch them, so like our mother, he tries his best to pretend like they don't exist. Since she has always dreaded the sight of his fully displayed ability, Thomas often found himself assisting father in the kitchen, or stealing novels from the library and reading them in discreet places. He exists as merely a shadow in his own home.
I've always felt insecure that I might not have a unique ability, but I guess I am grateful that it has made my life a little easier settling amongst the mortals. My own mother can also stand to look at me the longest out of my siblings. We'll share the occasional laugh, and she makes sure to come by my room every night and collect my boots to shine them. Synne and Thomas don't understand why I continue to stay here, and do what I do for our mother, but they don't know what it feels like to not be what you were born to be.
"I got harassed by a merchant today." I spoke, reaching for a piece of bread, deciding on the most golden piece.
"I don't know why you bother leaving the house," Thomas replied in an annoyed tone.
"I can't help but think that maybe if we practiced our abilities and really mastered them, then maybe the villagers wouldn't keep trying to mess with us."
"Well in order for us to stay here, you children need to appear as non-threatening as possible." My father said calmly as he measured soup into four different bowls. He always set a place for Synne, unknowing of her whereabouts or plans to return home. He was kind in that way. Which is why my hate for mortals tends to cease when I step into our home. "Besides, even the suggestion would send your mother into an early grave."
My brother snorted, dropping his spoon into his bowl. "There's nobody here to teach us about our gifts, Gemma." My brother's thoughts seemed to stir like the components of his soup. I shifted my attention to my father, and noted his solemn eyes. I remembered our last days in Veloria, hearing my father fight for us to stay in our homeland. He could exist there as a mortal, as long as his children were happy. There were plenty of families who stayed after the curse. But my mother threatened to leave all alone. The jealousy was turning over in her stomach, spilling out of her mouth during every interaction with our fae neighbors. I think we all knew deep down that staying in Veloria meant we would spend our entire lives passing around the shovel that would dig our own mother's grave; and none of us were willing to accept that responsibility.
"You got started without me." Synne spoke as the front door slammed and she appeared. She looked clean, groomed, and sober. Not like somebody who spent her day sleeping around and drinking her insecurities away. She looked like a daughter.
"If we waited around for you to eat every night, we would have starved to death by now." Thomas sneered, not making eye contact with Synne. She stuck her tongue out at him, grimacing, knowing he probably wouldn't look anyway. She took her seat at the table, eyeing the soup with content.
"Maybe you should open your own tavern, father." Synne smiled in his direction, half-serious.
"Nobody would visit." Our father chuckled, also half-seriously. He looked into the sitting room, frowning at our mother. She sat there reading her tales, with no inkling that she was listening to our conversation. I was surprised that she didn't intervene when I suggested training. Whether she heard me or not, she probably knew we weren't brave enough to try anyway. She made us settle into a life that would never actually be ours.
⚔︎
I tossed and turned that night.
It could have been due to me leaving my new weapon under my pillow. Anytime I shifted my head, it poked at me in a new spot as if it was trying to force me out of my heaviness. Instead of fighting it, I sat up, and lit a candle. I admired the single flame, dancing left and right. I wanted to be the flame. Mindless, yet strong against the darkness.
"Argh!" I heard a male's voice following a large thump. I hurried over to my window, careful not to draw the curtains too far apart. I squinted out my window, allowing myself a narrow visual field of the greens behind our house. Arising from the dirt, was my brother Thomas. Only now, he looked like a garden gnome in comparison to his long, outstretched wings, faintly swallowing him in the night. I never fathomed how large his wingspan could possibly be, considering they are constantly tucked into his narrow body. Even expanded, his wings looked terrible. Ashened, and thin like paper.
I followed his movements carefully, spectating as my brother took a deep breath and began to sprint in the field. It appeared as though he was getting a running start, fueling his leap into the air. But instead of soaring above the ground, my brother tumbled out of the sky like a fallen star, landing right onto his back. His wings.
I rushed downstairs and around to the back of the house to find my brother sitting in the grass, one piece of his left wing bent backwards. His hands were holding his head up, elbows supported by his thin knees.
"Are you alright?" I asked hesitantly, slowly stepping towards his injured wing.
"Don't touch it." Was all Thomas could mutter, refusing to look up at me. It sounded like he was struggling to get a breath in. I wondered how long he had been out here, throwing himself into the earth. How many times had he attempted to fly? Why hadn't he told me?
"I don't know much about fae wings," I began to speak, knowing to tread lightly. "But if it's anything like a bone, we're going to have to reset it." I sat next to him on the ground, looking forward into the night.
"Oh great idea Gemma, let's go ask someone!" Thomas scoffed. "Oh wait, we can't."
Thomas used cynicism in place of expressing his actual emotions, often. He never let on how he truly felt about leaving Veloria. If there was such a thing as complete indifference, that was my brother Thomas.
"When were you going to tell me?" I asked, turning my attention towards his face.
"Tell you what?" He said more so as a complaint, rather than a question.
"You know what." I replied in a sour tone. Thomas paused a second, took two fists full of grass, and ripped them out of the ground. As if that would make up for his pain.
"So Synne can mind fuck half the town whenever she feels like it, but if I try and use my wings, then suddenly I'm the bad guy?" He snapped at me as he stood up hastily.
"No." I stood up and placed a hand on his unaffected shoulder. "I'm proud of-" I paused, sensing a presence. Thomas must have as well, as he and I both spun around simultaneously.
"What's going on out here?" Synne stood, arms crossed, smirking. Her eyes followed the outline of Thomas' wings. She arched an eyebrow, finally noticing the dirt speckled all over his face and arms. "What happened to you?" Her voice got higher as she finished her question.
"Shouldn't you be falling off a tavern stool right about now?" Thomas returned, as he began to dust off his pants, trying his best to remain nonchalant.
"Shouldn't you be upside down in a cave somewhere?" Synne's charming tone began to amplify. She tilted her head at the two of us, as her lips parted in confusion. "What's that smell?" She spun around towards the house, as the scent began to drift into my nose.
"Fire!" Thomas shouted as he pointed at a window of our cottage. My window.
"Shit." I whispered, my feet seemingly stuck in place. "I lit a candle, it must have caught something."
At that point, a nightmare was spilling out of my room. Heavy clouds of charcoal were blurring the stones that lay beneath it. My face began to grow hot, the blood beneath my skin seemed to be approaching boiling temperatures. My fingertips singed. "Do you guys feel that?" I asked my siblings, wondering if they were feeling the fire as I was.
"Feel what?" Synne retorted, squeezing her bare arms and hunching over.
I managed to unstick my feet, breaking out into a sprint towards the house. My siblings followed closely behind.
When I reached the steps to get upstairs, the smoke seemed to be denser and more infinite. I began to make my way up, my eyes growing increasingly sensitive to the smoke. I placed my hand on the wall, in need of guidance to my room. I covered my nose and mouth with my opposite hand, moving as fast as I could. It seemed as if I left my rational thoughts outside in the grass.
When I made it to my bedroom door, I attempted to wave the smog out of the way. I was fighting an opaque monster- one that kept reaching out to me relentlessly. I flung open the door, only to find all my belongings engulfed in flames.
"What the hell are you doing?" I heard Thomas call out from behind me. He surprisingly sounded worried.
I moved my mouth to form some words, but found that they wouldn't come out. My mind was escaping every orifice of my body, spreading throughout the room like smoke.
"Gemma! Look out!" Synne screamed from a distance away.
My eyes dropped to my feet, and I watched as flame rested on my skin. I started to shake my right ankle, causing the glow to climb up my shins. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart racing, and my lucidity gone with the wind. Blackness swallowed me. Heat created me.
"Gemma!" Synne placed a hand on my shoulder, grasping me as tightly as possible, attempting to overcome the force of the flames.
Before I knew it, I was squeezing my fists so hard, a coolness erupted from the palms of my hands, throwing Synne and I backwards. I recovered and opened my eyes, finding that the flames had receded.
I looked over at Thomas, who had been standing a few feet back, with his jaw as wide as his wingspan. I inspected my throbbing hands, my fingertips dripping with water. I stood up, taking in Synne's soaked hair, dress, and lipstick smudged on her chin.
"Gemma-" Thomas cautioned, as I redirected my attention to my bedroom previously engulfed in flames. Now, the room was flooded, with puddles of water in my bed, and drops falling from the ceiling.
"Did I-" I couldn't even finish my sentence. I simply looked over at my siblings, whose heads were bobbing slowly, but certainly.
"Gemma, you were on fire." Synne spoke, clearly distraught.
"I didn't notice, not until I looked at my feet. It didn't burn. I didn't feel a thing. How is that possible?"
Synne looked at me with puzzled eyes. I returned the look. It had all happened so fast. One second I was being summoned to the fire, and the next, I was putting it out.
Thomas stepped forward as he spoke, "Well you can't set an ocean on fire, can you?" His usual contempt shining through.
"You know what this means, right?" Synne looked at me with hopeful eyes, her lips curving upwards. She stepped towards me and placed her hands on my shoulders. "There's nothing wrong with you, Gemma." She paused and planted a grateful kiss on my forehead. I wasn't sure if her happiness was for me, or for herself. She suddenly inched closer to the side of my face, her lips parting as she got closer to my ear. "You are just like us."