Her father was dying, and there was nothing she could do. She knelt beside him, trying to stanch the blood with her dress. There was too much of it. It was hopeless. Yet she kept trying, her pale blue dress turning rusty red.

The villagers all stood and watched, including her sister, who had a faint smirk on her face.

"Why aren't you helping me?" She wanted to shout at her sister. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Only five minutes ago her father had been fine, and now-

"He'll die as he lived. In disgrace." she heard someone say.

She turned to the villagers. "What do you mean?"

No one answered. The girl wasted no time trying to get an answer out of them. She turned back to her father, hot tears sliding down her cheek.

She didn't see, but everyone else did.

Where her tears fell, things grew. Grass and flowers and plants. Soon her traitorous father would be completely covered by them.

Finally, she did notice. She reached out to touch a bluebell. "What is this?" she asked uncertainly.

Nothing had grown in the village for decades.

Her sister spoke first, "It's proof."

"Proof of what?"

"Your father's treachery." the sister answered honestly.

"He's your father too." the girl answered quietly, still staring at the plants. They bloomed in vibrant colours, each trying to push the other plants out of the way.

"No he's not." The sister sneered, "Did he never tell you? He's the reason we have been on the brink of starvation for all these years."

The girl blinked, turning away from her dying father, "I don't understand."

"It's you. You and you mother." her sister said, "14 years ago, our father fell in love with the Goddess of Rain and then stole you from her. After my Mother died, he left for nearly 5 years. I was far too young to be left alone. I kept hoping he would come back. And he did, this time with a baby girl with eyes like rain. He said he'd made a mistake. He said he'd stolen something from Ilespor, Goddess of Rain."

"He asked who I was living with. I told him I was living at the orphanage. Then I ran away from him. I left him and the baby standing in the rain. That was the last time it rained. Our father stole you, and in return, Ilespor took away our rain. Our crops withered and died, the animals had no water to drink, and our own water had to be drawn from a slowly drying river miles from here."

During this, the girl had grown pale and her eyes widened. A baby girl with eyes like rain.

"You're a liar." she whispered, looking at her father. "And..and you poisoned him, didn't you?"

"Of course I did."

The girl expected the villagers to gasp at her sisters proclamation, haul her to the jailhouse, but nothing happened.

They knew. They want my father dead.

"Is it the truth, Papa?"

Her father choked out, "She wanted to keep you, raise you as her daughter. But I would have to leave."

"So you stole me." The girl hissed, rage making her pretty-rain eyes look like a downpour.

"I loved you." her father said.

Those were his last words as the life sputtered out of him.

She didn't hear those words and she turned to face her sister. "You want rain?" she said fiercely, "Then drown."

The rain that followed was misery. Cold as ice and so dark that the villagers could barely see each other.

The girl cried as it rained. She cried about her father and her mother and her sister and herself.

When she stopped crying, they were all dead. She broke down at this sight, as if remembering herself.

"I killed them." She cried. "I killed all of them."

And she fell to the ground, her arms circling herself as if to protect her eyes from the sight of so much blood.

But it was too late. It was stuck in her mind.

"Tal." A voice said quietly as a soft sheet of rain started washing away the blood, "Come with me."

The girl- Tal- looked up, gasping with a faint sense of wonder at what she saw.

The woman had hair made of mist and eyes like hers- rainy and beautiful. Her skin was a pale blue.

Tal half expected the woman to disappear at any moment, so she took her mother's hand in her own, hoping she would be able to leave behind her pain...