Wings of Fate: The Lost Ones

She felt numb.

Dark, shifting shadows covered the forest when she awoke. It reflected her mood. She was angry. She was angry and unforgiving. And pathetic. Waking into the twilight shadows of the forest startled her, it was a darkness so yawning that even the brilliant DeSolar moonlight she had grown used to could not breach the shelter of the trees around her.

Fear choked the breath from her lungs as she lay in the dark not knowing where she was. Nightmarish memories rushed through her mind, bringing back images of Clarissa’s knife and, as she lay on the ground, she felt every wound. Her body was on fire.

She must have whimpered because a threatening shadow appeared at her side. She screamed in terror -- throwing her arms up.

Big hands grabbed her arms.

“Shhhh, Raven, it’s me Logan. It’s Logan, calm down.” He whispered urgently. He repeated the words twice more before she heard him. She lowered her arms to rest against her face and sobbed.

“You bastard.” She whispered when her tears ceased. Small drops of water pooled into the concave area of her ears and when the wind blew across her body goose bumps raced along her skin.

“What?”

“This is your fault.” She ground out, moving her arms aside so she could glare at him. “I can’t catch a break even for a moment -- kidnapped, shot at, beaten, and now this -- this!” she said, slapping her palms against the ground.

The urge to rip something apart was overwhelming.

“Raven I- I’m sorry. I had no idea Clarissa would follow us here. I had no idea she would attack you Raven, you have to believe me.”

“She was so angry,” Raven bit out. “She was angry because she believed I stole you from her. How could you abandon her and not tell her why? Why did you not just tell her why?”

“I hadn’t come up with a plausible excuse to give her.” He sighed in a tired voice. “If I could undo this…” he paused and gestured towards her body. “…I would. God, but I would Raven.”

His obvious misery wound around her and her anger evaporated. It left her suddenly, along with all the tears she shed, leaving her empty.

“Where is she?” Raven asked quietly, lowering her voice to meld with the silent forest.

“I buried her a few hours ago.” He replied, his answer once again giving evidence to both the inner turmoil she sensed in him, as well as exhaustion. After having trekked all day and fighting two small battles -- to have to finish the evening by burying his girlfriend must surely have worn him down.

“Buried her? You killed her?”

“No.” he said, once again growing quiet. “She was already dead when we found you, I thought -- I thought you killed her.”

“I could not have killed her had I wanted to and, believe me, I wanted to. One minute she was on me and in the next, she was gone.”

“That’s doesn’t make sense. Maybe she stumbled or something and fell on her knife.” He suggested.

“I guess it’s possible but I don’t see how, she wasn’t standing when she disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Well it was dark Logan and, like I said, one minute she was there and the next she was gone. I waited in the dark, staring into the shadows, for her to return. I heard her coming for me but when -- wait a minute!” she whispered, sitting up. She ignored the pain the movement caused and stared at Logan’s shadow. “Someone else was there.”

“What? Who?” He asked, leaning in.

“I don’t know who she was. She said she had been trying to get to me and almost did not make it in time. She was comforting, bright and soft looking -- angelic almost -- she glowed.”

“Angelic? You were mumbling about an angel when we found you, is that who you mean?”

“Must have been. Is she here?” she mused, glancing around the dark clearing. It was impossible to see in the dark. Logan sat beside her with only a faint outline of his body visible.

“We never saw anyone else, Raven.” He said without emotion. He sounded like a therapist who did not want to be the one to tell you how crazy you were.

Raven snapped. “Well, I didn’t imagine it!”

“Okay.” He said in the same tone, sighing.

“Stop humoring me.”

“I am not humoring you, Raven, if you say you saw an angel then you saw an angel. We did not see her and she isn’t here now so I don’t see how it matters. You are banged up so maybe -- maybe you dreamed her up. Or something.” It was evident he didn’t believe it, but Raven let it go.

And of course, now that she thought about it, she would not have believed it either. In fact, she wondered if it had been a dream. An angel showing up in the middle of the forest sounded far fetched even to her. Even after everything.

Hours later when she stood neck deep in the lake that flowed deep and slow alongside the home of the Woodland Nymph Faeries, she thought about the angel. She believed in angels, always had, but not on DeSolar. And certainly not at the moment. No, she thought with a sigh, I do not believe in angels today.

After her conversation with Logan he returned to his side of camp and left her to her thoughts. Promising he would not be far if she should need him, he stepped on silent feet into the shadows. With so many thoughts churning through her mind she was unable to fall asleep.

She was glad Clarissa died. Not because she hated the girl, because she could understand how a girl could go crazy with jealousy over a man and because this was DeSolar. People here killed each other all the time. Violence was a way of life. Not that that was any different from Earth but she felt less exposed to it on her home planet.

No, she was glad Clarissa was dead because it would be easier to sleep at night and to function during the day without constant fear the girl would appear to finish what she started.

Dawn broke.

She lay in the dirt with her eyes closed tight against the world while the rest of the group moved around camp. Footsteps brought various people to her side so they could pause and stare at her before moving away again.

It was obvious they stared at her hair. At her face. At her neck. I must look awful, she thought, pained by a sudden rush of vanity. Allowing the moment to pass, Raven opened her eyes to stare at whatever happened to be in the direction her body faced. With her left arm tucked beneath her face, it offered pillow-like comfort against the elements.

Instead of moving, she left her legs folded with knees tucked into a fetal position she loathed to release. She needed the comfort of her own body hugging itself. Legs moved around camp, shifting over fallen branches and a blanket of strewn, green leaves. The morning sun sieved through the trees to illuminate the camping area.

Further away, in the distance, the trees ceased being individual items and became a cluster until it became so dark it was like looking into hell.

She felt nothing for any of it.

Lachesis eventually appeared to collect her and they marched north to the Woodland Nymph Faeries. Two others added themselves to the group: Artemis and Phoebe, the latter of which was the brown woman who saved her from the slow soldier.

Raven pretended lack of knowledge when she heard their names and Lachesis assumed her ignorance. According to the Moirai sister, Artemis was Phoebe’s granddaughter, but considering Artemis appeared to be only a few years younger than Phoebe, Raven was certain there was more to tell about the two ladies. Lachesis gave up on conversation when Raven did not respond.

This time they were not met by the Princess faery and instead were met by Laedin, the red faery who approached Raven during their first passing. Laedin seemed jittery and Raven found him obnoxious. She wanted to lie down. Or bathe. She wanted some peace and quiet, not the fluttering of a fiery sun buzzing around her head.

After a quick reunion she followed Laedin to the river. That was hours ago but she was in no hurry to leave.

The hours of being outside coupled with the copious amounts of blood and sweat caking her body took time to remove. At first she removed her clothes in silence and threw them to the side, uncaring if anyone watched her movements. She stepped into the river and each step brought her a little more pleasure.

The water ran lazily down river and as it cascaded over her skin she longed to be just a bit further in the water, a bit deeper. Wet sand squished between her toes as she walked, and even that felt perfect. She walked until the water lapped against her lips and then she stopped, standing motionless with her arms out to her sides -- her eyes shut tight against the day, allowing the water to ebb and flow around her.

She thought about taking another step. A step that would put her face under water. She thought about taking a step after that one, and continuing to move deeper into the river until there was no more breath in her.

But she couldn’t.

The river water was cold, making the slow shedding of warm, salty tears noticeable on her cheeks. After what felt like an hour of standing in solitude Raven moved towards shore until she was able to reach the river bed and pull up clumps of sand to scrub against her skin. She scrubbed for a long time before dunking her head. Sand probably wasn’t the best cleanser for hair but it was all she had anymore and the strands were crusted with blood.

There wasn’t much hair left anyway.

Remembering the boot knife Logan handed her earlier in the day, she sloshed towards her clothes. The small, silver hand-held pocket-knife fit snug into her boot laces. She retrieved it and moved back into the water to submerge her body for decency’s sake. Grabbing what was left of the long strands of her blonde hair, she used the knife to cut it short.

She stared at her hair as it hung limp in her hand, remembering the same lengths of hair in Clarissa’s hand. Closing her eyes against the memory, Raven tossed the strands far into the river. It sank and floated away. She returned her hand to her head to find more strands to remove.

When she finished she had one small thought to how it would look, since she cut it without a mirror, but didn’t care.

“You have not rested enough Raven, on this leg of your journey.” Queen Rhyannon’s voice drifted across the water. Raven shifted her glance from the sunlight dancing across the knife in her hand to the beautiful silver and gold faery hovering above the ground only inches away from where her clothes lay.

“There has not been much chance for rest, your grace.” She murmured. She moved back toward the shore, the effort of pushing her legs through many feet of water became difficult. The events were catching up to her. Once out of the water, Raven leaned over and, picking up her clothes, moved to the water’s edge.

They were covered in blood as well.

“You should take this time, here with us, to rest.” The Queen suggested.

“Yeah.” Raven sighed. “I will.”

The Queen floated to Raven’s side and watched her actions in silence. Raven scrubbed sand into her shirt and, folding the cloth in her hands, rubbed both sides together. She rinsed the piece of clothing before starting the process again. She repeated the steps three times with her shirt before laying it on the ground. Raven retrieved the scrap of cloth Athena gave her to wear as a skirt and began scrubbing sand into it.

“When you were here before,” the Queen said, “The King and I were not assured you were the one our ancestors spoke of and so we hesitated to give to you what we have been charged to give.” She waited a moment but when Raven did not respond, she continued.

“A prophecy of our people speaks of the one who will bring hope to the land and when that one arrives we must offer aid where aid can be offered. This one is supposed to come from a far away land where we can never go, that no one can seek this place and retrieve the one, only that they must journey and arrive here on their own.

The prophecy states that this person will have weapons of their own, ability of their own, and in that we will have our sign. Once we have obtained our sign, we are to offer these gifts to the one and do all we can to assist them.”

“Queen Rhyannon.” Raven murmured without ceasing her washing, or looking up into the faery’s eyes. “I have no ability of my own. You were right to doubt I was the one in your prophecy.”

“But you do have ability, Raven.” The faery replied, confused. “The ability to heal.”

“What?” Raven asked, turning to the faery.

Small brown eyes looked at Raven in question. Queen Rhyannon’s silver and gold wings fluttered slowly behind her, causing her body to bob up and down. Sunlight glinted against the diamonds in her crown, with a responding twinkle from the teardrop necklace she wore.

Faery-sized, plump lips smiled softly at her. “To heal. Have you not noticed your wounds have nearly all healed?” Queen Rhyannon said waving her hand in a circle before Raven’s face. “You self-heal.”

Raven frowned. Self-heal? Not a chance. “Someone else must have healed me Queen Rhyannon because I have done nothing.”

“No one around you can heal you, Raven.”

“Lachesis-” she started.

“Does not have the power to heal you.” She replied with a small shake of her head.

“Athena-” Raven countered.

“Also does not have the power to heal you, Raven. You see, it is you. Has no one explained who you are?”

“No, Queen Rhyannon, no one has explained who I am. Can you?” Raven asked, mildly interested in the answer.

The Queen fluttered close to her and held out one slim arm. Raven kept her eyes on the faery’s brown eyes so they would not drift lower to the nude body revealed by the Queen’s translucent dress. Honor and sincerity were bright in Queen Rhyannon’s eyes. “You are the descendant of a great and powerful person.”

“You are not the first person on DeSolar to mention my lineage.” Raven said with a tilt of her head.

“Ah, Atropos mentioned it to you when she explained things?” the Queen asked, nodding.

“No, Queen Rhyannon, it was not Atropos, it was a witch.”

“A witch?” The faery responded haltingly, fluttering backwards.

“Yes, in the castle of the Queen Mother. She was healing the wound in my side.”

The Queen’s eyebrows furrowed in thought as she moved closer. “Hmm, she had a difficult time healing you?”

“Why do you say that?” Raven asked.

“Self-healers have a special -- ingredient, let us call it -- in their genetic makeup that reacts adversely to outside ingredients. When the witch was healing you -- I suspect, was it painful?” Raven could still hear the sound of her screams echoing off the stone walls of that small cell. Unable to speak of it, she simply nodded. “I imagine so.” The faery’s eyes grew sad.

“So,” Raven said with a heavy sigh, returning to the subject. “What does all this mean? My being the descendant of a powerful person and having the ability to self-heal?” She laid her skirt on the ground beside her top and turned to face the Queen. She tucked her legs to the side and gave her attention to the silver faery.

“Being the descendant of this particular powerful person means you have the ability to self-heal. Having the ability to self-heal, as well as other signs that were listed within the prophecy, means you are the prophetic ‘one’ who was referred to -- and what that means is I can bestow upon you two gifts, from the Woodland Nymph Faeries, that will help in your journey.”

“Assuming I buy into this, what sort of gifts are we talking about?” she asked, imagining magical crystals and pouches filled with powder. She was currently residing in a magical world wasn’t she? But Queen Rhyannon surprised her by offering neither of these.

“One gift -- the bright light of Numestadine, is the orange light of sight.” Queen Rhyannon began to light up from within, her translucent gown turning silver and the dark brown of her eyes shimmering brilliantly in the midst of the blinding reflection in her wings.

She held her hands in front of her body in supplication, as though someone were placing an object into her hands. In the space above them, an orange lit sphere appeared. The glowing orb traveled towards Raven, who froze at the first sign of light, until it slid through her body and disappeared. Raven felt – warmth, only.

“The second gift is the bright light of Chumendohen -- it is the lavender light of time.” Between their bodies, again, appeared a bright orb of light -- this time purple. The ball swelled until it was almost the size of Raven’s head and then traveled towards her before, again, disappearing against her chest. As before, she felt only momentary warmth before the orb vanished, and then nothing.

The Queen faery’s inner glow diminished fractionally until she was her normal hue. She clasped her hands together with a small smile on her lips and watched Raven in expectant silence.

Raven stared back, noting the Queen’s expression and sighed. “Not to sound ungrateful, your Grace, but I feel just as I did before you gave me the gifts -- am I supposed to feel different?”

The Queen faery frowned. “I, I do not know, Raven. It does not say in our prophecy how the gifts will make you feel. I suppose it is just something that has become a part of you now and you will eventually notice it.” Raven heard the uncertainty in the Queen’s voice but let it go.

“Alright, well, what do these gifts do? What are the orange light of sight and the lavender light of time? What does that mean?”

“Ah,” this line of questioning seemed to better suit Queen Rhyannon for she smiled and floated closer to Raven’s face again. “The orange light of sight allows you to view auras -- you know what an aura is?” When Raven nodded her understanding, the faery Queen continued. “Dangerous colors, such as dark reds and yellows, are a warning; and there are colors that are safe, such as light pink or browns. This gift will help you to know when you are in a terrible situation so that you may remove yourself before trouble arises.”

That would have been useful a few days ago, Raven thought bitterly. “Do you ah, have to be looking at the person to see their aura?” The Queen tilted her head sideways. “I can’t see their aura through a wall, can I? Or know what a person’s aura looks like just by thinking of them or hearing of them, or like if they are standing behind me?” Raven explained.

“No, you will have to be looking at the person.” She answered and Raven accepted there was no way to prevent Clarissa’s attack. When Raven nodded, she continued. “The second gift is the lavender light of time and this gift allows you to slow time. This will help in your safety as well, in addition to the safety of others.”

Interested, Raven leaned forward. “That one sounds good, how does it work?”

“I…” the Queen paused again and stared at her, “…I do not know how that one works either, Raven, I am afraid these instructions are incomplete. Hopefully, when the time comes, the action will just happen -- naturally. The gift is a part of you now so it should react to your desire for the gift to happen.”

Raven decided her opinion of that scenario was best kept silent as she was afraid of offending the Queen. A gift to see auras was good, she would give them that. The gift to stop time, no -- not stop time, slow time -- was fantastic. Or would be if she knew how to use it.

She held her sigh. It didn’t matter. She never had the power before and was fine without it.

Yeah, fine, Raven thought. “Thank you very much, Queen Rhyannon, for bestowing on me these two gifts. I hope I can make you proud by using the faery gifts of seeing auras and slowing time. I will do my best.”

The Queen bowed her tall crown regally. “We are all counting on you Raven. I do not care much if you never use the gifts because their only intention is to be helpful if you need them. But there is much at stake. I wish there were more we could do.”

“I am sure if you think of something you can find a way to let me know -- and I will come back and visit with you.”

Queen Rhyannon shook her head with a frown. “We leave in the morning. We will be gone before you and the others awake.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going?” Raven asked. The Woodland Nymph Faeries had been here for a long time. Hadn’t Queen Rhyannon said they had been here for hundreds of years?

“The forest is no longer safe for us to remain. The attackers who reached you yesterday should not have been able to move so far into our lands. We are losing our power and run the risk of being captured or killed or worse.

No, my husband and I, the King, have had to make an important decision regarding the fate of the Woodland Nymph Faeries -- and our decision is that we should go.”

“But, what if everything goes well and your people can return, how will you know?”

“We have also decided to leave our daughter behind.” The emphasis she put on the word ‘decided’ led Raven to believe it was a decision she was not pleased with. But they had made the decision just the same. “Princess Shaylee has agreed to stay with you and your followers, to assist with anything she could possibly be of service to help with, as well as to alert us if the situation here changes.”

“Here? As in, on DeSolar? Are you leaving the planet?” Raven asked, shocked.

Queen Rhyannon nodded. “The planet is not safe anymore Raven.”

Raven believed every word of that.

“You should rest now. If I do not see you again before the morning, I wish you well. I wish for you to find the answers and to overcome what has been set down before you. I wish we could be here for you but we just cannot lay down the lives of our people.”

“I understand Queen Rhyannon. I appreciate all you have done to help our cause.”

“There will come a day when you will look back on these moments and wonder how you ever made it through each day, Raven. You will breathe in each moment like the dawn of the most beautiful day and wonder how you ever lived through any of this. It will not be easy for you, I know this, but there will be a day when everything that has gone on before that day, will make perfect sense to you. And when that moment comes I hope that you will choose to stay.”

“Stay? I didn’t realize I had a choice.”

“We all have a choice, Raven.”