*This chapter is being edited and changed, Please take this into consideration. Thank you.*

"I have enough wheat to make a splendid birthday cake," Estefan beamed as he swung his wooden front door open. He strode into his home and over to his wife. "Our daughter, finally eighteen my love."

Estefan was a tall man with broad shoulders and short brown hair. Marium looked up from her chair, smiling at him softly. She was a small, pear-shaped woman with brown hair and brown eyes. An ordinary-looking couple.

"Where is that daughter of ours?" Estefan scanned the room. "Outside in the woods, no doubt." Now looking down at his wife, he gently cupped her acorn-like face, in shade and also in shape. Marium nodded and stroked her husband's rough hands tenderly.

"Eighteen, but darling, I want to discuss something I heard today in the village whilst I was out." Estefan's face of a smile grew into concern and he squatted down beside her. He gazed at her with anxious eyes waiting for her to speak once more.

"I listened to a woman, that miller's wife, claim they have ran out of corn, the fields are dying-"

"It is almost autumn my love, crops die this time of year."

"No, much worse, they blamed Alma again, they spoke her name, how much longer can we lie to our daughter that they are not suspicious, we cannot hide this from her any longer."

"For eighteen years our daughter has done nothing to these people, eighteen years the miller's wife, or the baker's mistress or some other person speaks jealous words about our daughter. But she is eighteen and she now of age, we can send her to the Copper Isles and she can learn to be more than what these petty village people are. Do we need to tell her?"

The front door opened, and their daughter skipped into the room, her long, glossy hair flowing gracefully behind her. Muddy footprints trailed sloppily after her as Estefan and her mother turned to greet her.

"Ah, there you are!" Estefan laughed, crossing his arms.

"Here I am!" their daughter replied, bending a leg backwards as she twirled on the other. "I found wild lavender and had to pick some for myself and mother." She handed her mother three sprigs of the plant, grinning broadly.

Many of the townspeople commented on the fact she was unlike the other girls her age—not only in appearance, where her shining purple eyes made everyone stop and stare, but also her attitude. She was a free spirit and never got along with the other girls her age.

"Are you excited?" Estefan placed a hand on his daughter's shoulders in comfort. She beamed back at him with a grin.

"Yes father, the Copper Isles sound beautiful, woodland, animals, the biggest library in all the land, I will be the finest kingdom librarian there is!" Their daughter was a curious child who preferred her own company and would be out in the woods climbing trees, running home covered head-to-toe in dirt, or she would sit in her room and read books all day. Estefan and his wife named their daughter Alma, which meant "spirit."

Sending their daughter to the Copper Isles, was the best decision they could think of to save her from the perpetual and tedious life of a farmers daughter. Estefan wanted more for his daughter, hoping she could seek to find a more deserving suitor than a village man who didn't really like her, for she was the girl no one wanted to know.

"And have you felt okay today?" Marium asked with distress in her tone. She rose from her seat and stepped over to the fireplace, placing logs into the flames.

"Darling, she was in the woods, if she was to have a vision no one would see her," Estefan spoke to his wife softly in reassurance.

"Yes, but last time-"

"Last time was a decade ago, she is fine, we cannot protect her up anymore, our little one is a woman now."

Growing up, Alma developed the ability to have premonitions, which were normally intense visions of people or places of which she did not recognise. As both mortals, Estefan and his wife did not understand why Alma became the way she did or looked the way she did, but they loved her all the same.

"Mother, Father, I was in woods, I am fine. I do not understand why you fret so much." Alma spoke back confused.

Her parents went silent and glanced at each other for a moment, Marium nodded at her husband and he guided Alma to the window.

"We just worry about you that is all my love, you are a precious thing, and we know the children say words to you-"

"They are just mindless bullies Father."

"Yes, you are right. Fradfolk is a small village in a large world, and the Copper Isles will give you so much more, you deserve more than this life." He pointed out to the village in the distance.

Fradfolk was a small village owned by King Tyrone. He did not care about the village much, for he lived in the Kingdom of Nyari a long distance away. Fradfolk, although small, was filled with hard working people who lacked outside influences and never knew much about the outside world.

The Floros family were very hard working and proud. Living on the outskirts of the local village, just past the fields, owning a small farm. Estefan collected corn and wheat, and his wife was a tailor. Ordinary jobs for ordinary people.

"Will you go collect some bread from Mr Parry? We can have a lovely meal tonight along with your cake to celebrate your special day!" Estefan asked his daughter, handing her three silver coins, she took them and placed them in her pants pocket. She placed her black cloak around her shoulders and headed out the door. Estefan and Marium admired their daughter as she skipped gracefully through the field towards the village.

As Alma approached with utter jubilation, the wandering village people avoided eye contact. Approaching the bakery, she met Mr Parry, a short plump man with a white beard. He noticed her and shuffled back inside. She followed him and headed for the breads atop the counters.

"Anything specific this time Alma?" Mr Parry asked. Alma shook her head and picked up a loaf of white. "That will be three silver coins please." He watched her as she stretched out her hand and placed her coin in his own. He gave a quick smile at her and she grinned back.

"Thank you, Mr Parry. It is my birthday today you see."

"Ah yes well, pleasant day Miss Floros." The old man hobbled away behind a curtain in his bakery avoiding any more conversation.

Alma stepped back outside, the village was busy and in the centre of the village square was the local well, and many people gathered around it, chatting, selling items, and fetching water. Today was no different; in fact, it was busier than usual.

"Psst." A voice from behind her called in a whisper, she turned but could not make out who it was between the crowd of people around her in the square.

"Psst over here." She turned around once more. Her eyes scanning everyone. Then she spotted them, a man stood in the doorway of a hut, his hood over his head, but silver hair stuck out of the edges. He ushered her over. She stood puzzled and cautious.

"Come over here kid," he said. Alma slowly wandered over carefully. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said again as she drew nearer, sensing her uncertainty.

"What's up?" Alma asked, making sure there was a safe distance between her and the man, who she had observed was short compared to herself. He smiled back at her.

"Is it your birthday today?" The man asked quietly. Alma looked around her, no one was looking their way.

"Why are you asking such a thing old man?" She replied firmly.

"Well, is it?" He grinned back at her as if he knew the answer but wanted her to say it anyway. Almas eyes narrowed and stepped closer.

"Yes, I'm eighteen."

"Brilliant! Best get home quick miss," The man said wrapping his cloak around himself and shuffling past Alma. "home now, quick quick, don't stick around here, I thought I had missed it, but-" He mumbled as he strode off into the crowd. Alma's eyes followed until she could not see him any longer between the people so she followed after.

"Hey, wait, what do you mean?" She tried to call out, but the man was gone. She stood by the well in the square, he was nowhere to be seen.

A woman shrieked in her direction, spilling a replenished bucket of water. "Get her away!"

Alma swung her head around to put a face to the voice. She laughed nervously, unsure if she was the target, but many people had started to look over in her direction. A small, round woman stood in a doorway, glowering at her. "Yes, you. Get away!"

Alma stared back in horror, unsure whether to run away or to ignore the woman's calls. Her heart thumped forcefully, and her hands started to shake uncontrollably. Nausea kicked in, and her stomach turned tightly. She tried to calm her breathing, but she felt she was starting to panic and looked up to notice she was surrounded by a dozen people who were all glaring at her. She froze suddenly. She stared back at the people, trying to blink, but her vision started to distort and blur. She blinked some more, tightly closing her eyes and opening them. Her head became heavy, and she tried to reach her hands out to ease her sudden dizziness. When she opened her eyes again, she could not see the village people anymore, and she was instead looking at something else.

A wooden door and a face she did not recognise. A woman smiled at her, her skin grey, her eyes a deep charcoal. The woman's mouth was moving, but Alma could not make out the words. Looking at the door and back at the woman, she tried to stand.

"I can help." The woman's words were unclear and slurred in Alma's mind, and she struggled to reply, feeling incredibly mute. The whole thing felt like a dream—uncontrollable. The woman now was walking towards the wooden door, and Alma tried to stretch her hands out in a call for help. A woman with golden hair brisked past, then without warning, Alma was back in the village, realising she had in fact just had a premonition. She turned on the spot, confused. Everywhere was noiseless.

People started to stir from their stares, their voices raised in agreement with the woman.

"You're not welcome!" another voice called from the crowd. Others agreed, "Yeah!"

"Go away, witch," a man yelled, grabbing Alma's arm. Alma pulled away and fell to the ground. People began their approach, shouting and screaming at her, and she curled into a ball in defence. Her hands clawed at the well's brick walls, trying to find something to grip onto, but to no avail. The crowd became angrier.

"Get her!"

"Kill her!"

"Throw her in the well!"

No, oh, no, Alma thought, trying to get up, but people were grasping and grabbing at her limbs. Her body was languid with fear; she didn't understand what was happening. All of a sudden, she was lifted from the ground and raised up into the air, carried by angry men above their heads. She wriggled and kicked, trying to break free.

Her eyes widened, shocked and distressed. Tears started to form, trailing down her cheeks. She tried to plead with the women, staring into their eyes, but they showed no remorse. A look of savagery paraded their faces, a look she had never seen among the villagers before. Anger and fury surged through them. Their eyes were red as if inflamed. They were so enraged, so unnecessarily. All they could see was a stranger, someone who didn't fit in. But it just didn't make any sense.

As they carried her through the village, she realised they were taking her to the old barn at the edge of the fields, where they burned the old leaves from autumn.

Are they literally going to burn me?

She was screaming to be released. They then tossed her into the pile of crumpled leaves in the barn, and she quickly tried to run away underneath the pile, hoping they wouldn't follow. They left the door ajar as they shrieked and shouted at each other, disputing what to do next. Alma tucked herself as much as she could into the pile of leaves, trying to catch her breath and contemplate her next decisions.

"Take my hand," a soft voice beside her ear spoke. Alma looked up in surprise and saw the same timeworn man as earlier staring expectantly at her, his hand extended. Uneasy and unsure, she looked at the hand. "Just trust me." His eyes widened, a shiny topaz blue.

Alma looked through the leaves at the large barn door. People were still gathering around and yelling at each other, deciding how to end Alma's life.

A red glow lit up the barn, and she noticed a man with a wooden torch. Alma promptly made her decision and grabbed the old man's hand. He pulled her up with unimaginable force compared to his frail-looking body, and pushed through the aggressive crowd. They screamed and yelled back, torches lit and pitchforks raised. But refusing to let go or look back, Alma regained her strength and followed him around a back alley and into an old hut.

Shutting the door behind him, the man stopped to catch his breath. He was covered in a scarlet cape that reached his ankles, and he wore little brown sandals.

"Will they not follow?" Alma asked between breaths herself, studying the strange man.

"No, they will not find this hut, it has an invisible cloak over it," he replied. "Take a seat, Alma." He pointed at a table with two wooden chairs. The whole room seemed to be full of these wooden chairs and tables as if it was an inn without the counter top and the ale.

She sat down, noticing a small candle placed in the centre of the table. It lit suddenly as the old man sat down.

"I told you to go home."

Alma's eyes narrowed as she studied him closer—his long silver hair, his face, worn with many wrinkled curves and grooves. It was his eyes. They appeared young, almost as if they were a child's.

"Explain?" she asked crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair.

"There has a been an unexpected drought. The crops are ruined. The plants are dead," the old man replied. "And they blame you. I know you did not do those things, but tragedies are blamed on those who are the most different to rest. It is not your fault. Merely fear-filled."

"Why?" she pressed on anxiously.

"When people don't understand something is different, they fear it. Or why someone is different, they fear them."

Alma's violet eyes scanned the room. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do." He smiled tenderly for a moment before Alma stood up sharply. The old man stood, too.

"Look, my name is Conn, and I can help," he insisted. "Go home and tell your father I will be waiting by the well with a horse and carriage. It is not safe here for you. They will only become angrier knowing you escaped, and they will not stop until they have found you. Go on. It will be safe for you to leave now."

"How can I trust you?" Alma stepped back slightly, her eyes narrowed and she clenched her fists. The old man noticed and smiled reassuringly.

"You can choose to trust me, or not to trust me. You're a smart girl Alma, it's good you question trust."

As Conn walked to the door, Alma now was able to notice properly that he walked with a crooked back. He opened the door, and Alma walked over cautiously and nodded to him, still uncertain. The alley was dark and empty. It seemed as though it was night-time even though earlier it was light, like time had passed by differently outside the hut.

"How can it be night time?" She looked back towards the door, only to discover Conn no longer stood there. She shook her head, confused, and headed down the alley back to her home.

At home, Estefan and his wife were full of worry. They had heard about what had happened and went looking for Alma with no luck, and time had passed with no word from her. The village people demanded to know where she had gone to and barely believed them when they insisted they didn't know. The door swung open, and Alma rushed over to her parents. Their home was a mess and had been tipped upside-down​ by the villagers, trying to find Alma. Marium embraced her and asked where she had been. Alma told her what the old man had said.

"Marium, gather your items. We must leave." A worrisome expression consumed Estefan's face.

"Father, why are they scared of me?" Alma asked timidly.

Estefan walked over to his daughter and moved a few hair strands away from her face. He wiped a tear from her cheek gently. "We told them, we thought you must of ran away from the village, they searched the whole farm before they were satisfied we were telling the truth."

He directed her to the door and then called for his wife, who was trying to pack everything she could find. "We don't have time, Marium. Let us go now, quickly."

Estefan was now rushing his family through the field, onto the pathway to the village. Taking one last look at his modest home, he sighed deeply. The village dogs barked, and the moon shone brightly in the sky, a waxing gibbous, its pure white beams lighting up the village floor.

They went along the crooked pathway, silently sneaking past the old homes. When they reached the well, there stood Conn with a horse and a carriage, as he had promised. He ushered Estefan and his family onto the back of the carriage, which was filled with hay bales. Once aboard, they rode off out of the village. The Floros family were unsure on their next destination, but they could only hope for the best now