Birdpaw with Out of Evenfall: chapter one.

—deep beneath the boughs of the trees, magick whispered a wish. One lone hero braved many dangers. Gleaming sword in hand, they faced their trials; triumphant against the evil plaguing the land, derelict in its manifestations...

Rain made a sad mood setter for a fairytale full of light, and a day filled with blood. Each drop slipped along the wooden posts which dotted the street, and flames tickled the insides of lanterns. Shadows danced along the damp cobbled path, leading a trail of darkness up to the town square. Several knights stood atop the platform, and a headsman's block took center stage.

Adara ran a finger along the soft trimming of Mother's crimson cloak while the pitter patter of feet and tears from the sky sounded around her.

People shouted. Bells tolled.

—and in the echoes of the battle, the light shone. Both the moon and the sun illuminated a healing touch on the injured hero, who fought for hope and justice, so they could rise again from the ashes of the phoenix—

A glint of silver rushed down, and people gasped when a head dropped to the platform. One more execution of a suspected Magickae, but none of them had anything to fear, for they weren't 'cursed' with magick. Adara clutched the inside of her cloak while blood mixed with rain, and the man's mouth hung open in a last minute wish, for the right to live in peace.

"But you shall find no justice here."

"Anyone found harbouring Magickae is subject to the king's law," a knight in plate mail spoke over the screaming silence of the crowd, giving no care to the headless body beside him. "Anyone practising magick of any form will be executed."

Fire caressed her veins. A promise, a wish, but she didn't have to look farther than the front step of her home to see that the magickae found no quarter against King Brien at the turn of the queen's death under suspected magickal means. Whatever they used to combat their magick, it had devastating results. Fists clenched, Adara released a tiny breath as the townsfolk of Prunal scattered to return to their business. Some of them with relief writ plain on their face. No more magickae to haunt their dreams, or ruin their stories. 'Evil,' they uttered. In their fairy tales magick was the reason for all the problems in their world. Adara bit her lip and turned away from the bloodied platform.

"Breathe ten times and feel the pulse. Never let the fire consume you from within." One of the lessons Garren tried to beat into her mind in his rough, seaborn accent. "They'll kill you if they find out what you are. Drag you up onto that platform and lob your head off like all the rest of them."

As they had done fifteen Turns ago, when she was no more than a child who expected someone to read her a bedtime story. Her backdrop formed into the moss covered forests of Tebora, with flaming mist over the trees. Whenever she tried to think back to the purge against magickae, her memory failed her at the most crucial of moments. It was as if she hadn't been there at all, but the fire licking at her blood spoke another tale. The loss of both her parents left her with Garren to hide in a small log cabin, away from the mass destruction. One last word from Mother, until it faded into ash.

"You can't let them find her."

Basket held tight in her hands, she drew further from the last remnants of the crowd. Many of them she recognized on her day to day schedule. Go to the tavern. Work a few bells. Break. Go back for a few more bells and gather whatever coin she had to place it into her safety box. Four Turns worth of working at the same place every day. It didn't help that Gregor, Prunal's self-proclaimed best fighter, pushed himself onto her whenever he got the chance since Tara's disappearance, but her mind wandered to the festival instead of his relentless advances and the pain in her heart. Anything to tear herself away from the head detached from a body.

I hope this upcoming Sunfire festival is fruitful... Last harvest left a lot of us without much food to get comfortably through the winter... An oddity from the previous Turns. Large fields of wheat died in the night. Farmers left wondering what had caused the sudden blight on their crops. In the end, everyone turned to magick, and the purge continued long after the main event ceased to be. The destruction rang out to her when she left the heart of Prunal, and out into the waves of gold.

Along the dirt road, a house with its roof caved in, or ashes crawling up rotting wood. A harsh reminder every time she made the way home. People once resided within the homes. Spoke, dreamt and lived. The knights of Tebora gave them no quarter. No matter the supposed offense, the prosecution of magickae scarred the land.

Shoulders slacked, she bustled along to avoid the castle's giant shadow looming on the hill. Old tracks led her past a familiar orchard and farmhouse, tucked beneath the boughs of the forest. Rosaleta's place, someone who she trusted, but not enough to reveal what she was. One wrong word to the wrong person, and it'd be her on the platform.

Fingers dug into the woven straw of the basket, she pushed on until the noises of the bustling town gave way to the chirps of birds in the trees. The reeds from the nearby pond wafted their sweet, tangy smell into the air as she took in a deep breath. Farther away, into the forest until she reached the one place she shared with someone like her — and arguably, the only reason she beared through Gregor's advances and drunken patrons. Jisara, a young, sixteen turns old magickae, who worked in the king's castle. One dangerous place she had yet to figure out a way to get her out of.

Jisa hadn't been caught yet. How she managed it remained a mystery as she tread into the grove. No sunlight peeked through the dreary clouds as it usually did, and she took shelter underneath the small rocky outcropping, where two leafy trees twisted into a wooden embrace, spreading into each other's branches. Every halfmoon, they met up in the safety of the lover trees and old rocks to trade something precious.

Fairy-tales.

It was all she had of her memories. Mother, telling her tales of great lands past Tebora's boundary. Full of magick and mystical beings. Of shining warriors with their blades held high to battle the darkness. She clung onto those dreams of seeing the rest of what the world had to offer her. Though people whispered and jeered about vicious ice sirens of the northern continent, who sang to their prey and dug deep into their bones once they had them ensnared with their haunted beauty. Or the danger which rested in what they had dubbed the 'shadow places'. Anything magick had to be evil.

A curse. A blight. Tainted.

Hand held out in front of her, she dared to release the phoenix fire. Air around her fingertips rippled into tiny embers. It crackled into glyphs, but she whisked away the smoke trail when a boot and cloak rustled against the undergrowth. One second. Two. Her heart hammered at the thought of being caught after so long. No one else knows this place except Jisa and I. No one. Not even Garren.

The noises drew closer, and she curled her fingers against her fist to squash the fire before it burned the forest to ash.

"I never thought I'd get away from the castle long enough," Jisa's voice broke apart her anxious thoughts. The young girl stumbled through the rest of the undergrowth. "Adara!" She waved her hands up into the air, also carrying a similar woven basket to her. "Did you manage to find Garren's secret store of stories?"

"I thought I told you he doesn't have one." Adara laughed as she opened her basket. "Here's what I have." As she allowed Jisa to put hers down to sort through the books, she tried to find the words to needle the young girl into revealing what happened at the castle. "You didn't go through the town square, did you?"

Jisa lifted her head. "Um... no." She continued to shift through the basket. "You should ask Garren if he has any books. He's told you lots of stories, hasn't he?" Her slender hands rested on a thick tome, where a dragon blasted flames along the sparkling outer rims. "Oh, my favorite. 'Dragon Knight'." She hugged it against her chest with a grin. "I still believe he's hiding a cache somewhere."

"Garren's only ever told his stories through word of mouth and I don't think you'd like them." Terrified me into not sleeping through being a child... Horrible leaders. Dark creatures who feasted on the innocent no matter what anyone did... Blood, gore and grime. The lessons within his stories were not born of wonder, but realism against a harsh tide of circumstances. No less important, but one she faced every day. If not her entire life. Exhausting to the bitter tasted end. "They're a bit grim. Though this is Garren we're talking about. I'm starting to believe he's never been told a bedtime story in his life."

Jisa frowned and peered down at the cover of 'Dragon Knight'. "I remember when I first read this." She sat cross-legged, shuffling with her slops. "I always wondered why, near the end of it all, the dragon had to be alone. 'Were they the last of their kind?'" Another minute of hesitation. "'How did the dragon feel after having their home burnt to ashes by the villains?'" Lips pursed together, Jisa held up the book again. "But you told me to keep reading, so I did, and they kept going. Kept flying and singing after everything they've lost. They kept going for everything they had yet to gain. Kept fighting even if the world tried to strike them down. You knew long before I put the pieces together." After a quiet moment, Jisa grinned. "What I'm trying to say is maybe Garren's view of hope is a little different. Maybe his view of the fight isn't ideal, but it's still fighting."

Adara brought a finger up to her chin. Hope, something she clung to for a better day. To fight for a change of circumstances.

"For fools," Garren grumbled whenever she tried to get him to tell a happier story. "For stupid fools who put their lives on the line to fight the dark."

Adara sat on her knees. "You're right, of course. Sorry, it's just been a rough day for me since I left the tavern. I'll see if I can find something you haven't read yet."

"Is it Gregor again?" Jisa raised an eyebrow, but brought her two fists up. "You want me to show him what for? I've seen him strut around the castle like he owns the place." Her nose scrunched up as if a rather intense piece of dung found itself in front of her. "Trust me, Addie. It would be very easy for me to cause some sort of mishap and blame—"

"That's not necessary, Jisa," Adara said with a laugh. "I can handle him. I don't want you sticking your neck out."

Jisa's frown intensified. "For how long? I remember Tara told me the same thing."

Nostalgic heat rose up to swirl into her cheeks. One lifelong friend and a first kiss, who disappeared after a rather heated breakdown in the tavern when Gregor walked in as was his wont, though there had been something wrong. Something even Tara wouldn't tell her about. "How could I forget?" Another first look at the truth of knightly figures. They sat back and watched as Gregor showed where his 'strength' came from. Fear. All she could do was give Tara time to run back to the castle, but then she disappeared without a trace or telling her anything. "Hopefully, it won't come to that, but so far he hasn't tried anything with me."

"If you say so, but you should've seen Tara when she came into the servant's quarters," Jisa whispered. "The headmistress wouldn't let any of us close while she dressed her up. He did something that day." Flaming fury sparked within her dark browns. "Just be careful, Addie."

Be careful, but unlike Tara, my caution comes from something else. Fire twisted in her soul. I can handle Gregor, but at what cost if it does reach that point? How long could I run for, and would they catch me in the end? "I will," she said and reached forward to grab Jisa's basket. "Enough of that, though. Find what we were looking for in the castle annex?"

"A shredded map of Tebora," Jisa commented as she slipped her hand into the basket, tugging out a folded piece of yellowing parchment. "Lots of not shredded maps of Tebora, but it also looks like we're the only ones in existence with those..."

And this proves that there is more beyond the border, that isn't scary or dangerous. Adara took the precious piece into her hands. One reminder of an outside world, though someone had taken great pains to destroy the paper world, to hide the expanse past their borders. Old names scrawled along points of interest, with Prunal in the heartland of the kingdom. Several other names had been scratched out, but as she examined its lines of adventure, her gaze drew to the bottom. Heavy, penned blemishes scratched along a painted wall. Another word scratched out, keeping away the knowledge of what laid outside their castle city.

Jisa leaned forward with a curious smile. "Which place will we visit first?"

Adara smiled, and then shook her head. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"I certainly like the adventure of going into scratched out places." Jisa pointed at the painted, scratched wall on the yellowing map. "How about there? What's it called? Is the name legible at all?" Adara allowed Jisa to take back the map to investigate herself. "Or, we can name it ourselves."

"It was already named."

"You know what I mean." Jisa tossed her hand in dismissal as she handed the map back to her. She twirled into the open grove, where sunlight peeked through the overcast clouds. "I wish I found the other ripped pages. It's weird to wonder if the world really is that small." For a sparse second, her face fell into the tightest hint of despair, but it broke away into wonder. "But, the ripped parts prove that it isn't."

"There is a lot more world than Prunal, Jisa," Adara said with a light chuckle, but the fear gnawed at the back of her mind and battled with her own curiosity. "I'll get enough money for us, to get you out of the castle and leave this place."

"Fly away?"

"We're not birds."

Jisa blinked, and then smiled. "You know, you kind of remind me of a bird."

"What type of bird? That's important. If you compare me to a rooster—"

"No!" Jisa stuck out her tongue and turned to face her with another twirl and held her hand out to the overhanging mist. It swirled into her palm, pulled by an inner force. A glyph of pinkish hues formed from air, guided around her fingertips. Ice crystals formed on her palm, taking flight in a breath of magick. The crystal bird flapped into stasis, and glided into the safety of her cupped hand.

Her own fire whispered, but she crushed the smoke before it could be set aflame.

"Not any particular type of bird." Jisa settled the pink bird into her hands. "You just remind me of one. Always wanting to fly from place to place, but you're caged."

"I think you're more caged than me, and also you're the one talking about flying." Adara examined the small show of magick. "You've gotten better at control, Jisa. Good job."

Pride sparkled in her dark brown eyes. "Thank you!" Distant bells rumbled through the grove, causing them both to jump. "I should be getting back before I'm missed." Jisa gathered up her basket, then gave Adara a swift bow. "Take care of that little bird for me. It's just come into this world, and doesn't know how to fly yet."

Adara waved at her back as Jisa disappeared back towards the sounds of the bells. Left on her own, weight crashed back on her shoulders as she held out the precious bird. Crystalline and perfect. Embers rose along the edges of the feathers, so she switched it to her other palm to avoid the melting point. One breath. Two. Agitation sparked underneath her skin, and she absconded from the grove, heading deeper into the forest. I just need to get somewhere quiet, and put this somewhere safe.

There was no safe place but in plain sight. Deep beneath the boughs where the knights dared not tread. Garren played up the 'old hermit' enough for everyone to give his part of the forest space. Adara found the old marble and broken lamps among the twisted vines, leading up a small forested hill. As she reached a levelled plateau, she peered between the trees. An old, round gate of obsidian glass stretched around the dirty marble path, leading up to the face of an outcropping.

The shrine Garren went to for some peace and quiet tucked itself between the statue wings of a mighty, but no less broken bird. Lamps hung around the eroded feathers, unlit. With half its beak missing, it no less protected the small abode from view, while the forest rustled at the bottom of the hill. With a deep sigh, she tread underneath the obsidian gate. No bigger than their loghouse, but it pulsed with ancient power when she crawled up the creaky steps. Twilight ribbons hung off the scaffolding, whispering in the wind. Along its door, the same painted bird of purples stretched the entirety of its wingspan across the wood.

Adara walked in, and the wind shut the door behind her. Wooden beams held up the rooftop, carved with snakes as they held scrolls out of her reach. Creatures danced in frozen time along the wall banners, but dust riddled the floor, and cobwebs took place in every corner. He could stand to clean this place... Adara headed into the middle of the domed room, where an empty basin dug into the floor, with small aqueducts leading to the cardinals of the room, with the one in front of her holding the same statue from outside in a small divot, wings stretched out to fly, painted with the colours of night and flames.

On her knees, she pulled up one of the loose floorboards between the cardinal aqueducts to reveal a small box. Small etchings of dragons crawled along the outside, and she tugged it out to open it. Inside it, a strange, glass star. Dimmed and without any power, but it was all she had of Mother. She took it into her hands, where its touch cooled her skin. After a quick examination of its edges, she placed it back in, putting the pink bird beside it. Far away from the embers. With the box back underneath the floorboards, she took in another breath and stood up.

Something to keep you company.

Crimson cloak tucked back around her shoulders, she left the quiet place of magick and the bird behind.

As she left through the painted door, the twilight bells whispered, and a call beckoned from the sky and her heart.