5. Alana

ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO

FIVE

My mother skims her hands over my shoulders, then begins to braid my hair. Her fingers move deftly, like feathers, barely noticeable. Everything about her is soft. She is warm sunshine, and delicate raindrops, and all the good things that exist in the world.

She is the only one who truly knows me. She sees what I am deep inside, and she is not afraid.

Unlike my father.

Unlike my brother.

Samuel glares at me from over by the fireplace. He loves me and yet he hates me because I see parts of our mother that he can’t see. I anticipate her moods, and her needs, and I am more like her best friend than her child.

Because I feel it.

I also feel him.

I feel all of them, all of the time, and sometimes it is so overwhelming I think it might drive me insane.

I need to learn to shut it out, but no one can help me.

As my thoughts drift, my mother senses it and gives my hair a gentle tug. She knows when I’m becoming overwhelmed, and she does her best to ground me.

“Alana,” she whispers, “how is Kayan today?”

My lips curl into a smile.

Samuel scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Those two will be wed before the year’s out. Trust me,” he says.

My mother tuts. “They are too young for that,” she says. “No Leafborne marries before their second centennial.”

“Those two will,” Samuel says, standing up and stretching his wings in front of the fire. As he does, the flames crackle. He has the power to manipulate fire. A power inherited from our grandparents, and he loves to tease Kayan with it.

The two of them have been rivals since as long as I can remember. Friends but also enemies, they love to wind each other up. Love to compete.

Samuel lights a fire, Kayan extinguishes it.

Kayan fills a vase with crystal clear water, Samuel makes it boil so hot it evaporates.

All this time, they have never once gotten bored of teasing one another.

Sometimes, that makes me feel jealous. I cannot tease or play jokes with my powers. My powers are not coveted.

The ability to manipulate air, or fire, or water, or the seasons, or to converse with the animals... These are all things that others look at and say, Wow, if only I could do that too. Each one contains something that makes others jealous.

When people look at me, all they see is poison. An insidious gift that makes them feel like they should avoid me, stay away, keep me on the outskirts of the community.

My mother tries to make them include me.

But my father... He is perhaps the worst of them all. He does not trust me. I can tell in the way he looks at me, and in the way the air shimmers a dark, greyish blue when he is around me. He is constantly guarded, as if he doesn’t care to know me at all.

And I feel as though I do not know him either.

“Shall we go for a walk?” My mother finishes braiding my hair and stands up. She takes my hand and helps me to my feet. I’m wearing the emerald green dress she sewed for my birthday last year. It reaches down to the floor and hangs in soft folds that rustle gently as I move.

I nod, unsure why she wants to leave the cabin so late at night.

But when we are outside, she takes hold of my hand. She grasps it tightly. “Alana, there are whispers in the village. People are talking about making you leave the forest.”

My eyes widen and dread settles in my stomach. Leave? Where would I go?

“They intend to hold a vote. If it is successful, they will force you to leave. Go to the city.” She blinks quickly, trying to stop the tears that are swelling in her eyes. “I have been refused a vote. So has your father, and your brother.”

“Samuel knows about this?”

My mother shakes her head. “Not yet. He is going on his quest tomorrow. We didn’t want to tell him before he left.”

I shake my arms, trying to dislodge the tension that has settled inside them. I flex my fingers and pace away from her, bare feet meeting the cool soil, toes nestling in.

I have been to Luminael only once before, and I hated it. I cannot live there. It is too crowded. There are too many of them; too many thoughts, and feelings, and people, and noise. It would drive me to an early grave.

“Mother, what can I do?”

“Show them that you can control yourself.” she says softly. “Change the way you talk to them, the way you are when you’re around them.”

I tilt my head, her fear and worry overwhelming me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“That...” She clasps my face and stares into my eyes. “Exactly that, Alana. When you are reading my emotions, I can tell. Your face changes, you blink strangely, and your voice becomes vacant. Like you’re not really there. You need to stop. You need to make them think you’re no longer doing it, even if you are. You need to hide what you are. Otherwise, they will make you leave.” Her voice is urgent now, higher pitched. Her eyes sparkle, wide and scared, in the dim evening light of the forest. She grabs hold of my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Please, Alana. Please promise me you’ll try.”

I swallow hard, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “All right, I’ll try.”

She leaves me like that. Walking back to the cabin, telling me she’ll give me a moment to compose myself because Samuel must never know. Not before he leaves.

I lean onto the nearest tree and exhale heavily. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to change who I am.

I walk back to the cabin slowly, my mother’s words echoing in my mind. Dread coils in my stomach at the thought of being forced to leave the forest – my home. The only place I’ve ever known.

But I have no idea how to be who they want me to be.

Over the next few days, I try my best to follow my mother’s advice. I focus on keeping my face impassive, even as I’m bombarded by the emotions of everyone around me. Their fears, their judgements, their mistrust. When I speak, I concentrate on keeping my voice neutral and concealing any hint that I can sense what they’re thinking and feeling.

But it’s draining, this constant effort to hide myself from sight. By the end of each day, I’m utterly exhausted – mentally, emotionally, physically. And deep down, a sinking feeling tells me that even this won’t be enough.

When the vote finally takes place, the outcome is not a surprise.

In the central square, what seems like the entire village gathers to cast their decisions. My mother and father are present, but they are not allowed to vote.

Samuel left three days ago to start the quest that each fae must complete when they turn one hundred and fifty years old.

If he was here, what would he say? What would he do?

I stand alone, trying to hold my head high despite the hostile stares boring into me from all directions. My heart pounds as the elders collect and count the wooden voting tokens.

When they announce the results, I barely hear their words over the roaring in my ears. The verdict is nearly unanimous – I am to be banished from the village and sent to live in Luminael. Exiled.

Forever.

I am given three days to say my goodbyes and pack my belongings.

In that time, I refuse to speak to Kayan or Rosalie. They knock, and beg, and plead. But I remain completely silent.

The only way I can cope with this is if I don’t have a tearful goodbye.

I wouldn’t even know how to say goodbye to Kayan if I tried.

At sunset on the third day, there is a knock on the door. My father is sitting in the corner, pretending to focus on a book. He doesn’t even look up.

My mother answers, and steps aside, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The village’s strongest men and women – six of them – file inside the cabin and flank the walls. “It is time to go,” Maura says.

Instantly, rough hands grab my arms on either side, and I’m jostled forward as they start to march me down the path leading out of the village. Craning my neck, I look back frantically, desperate for one final glimpse of my family. But even my mother is not watching.

We’re on the outskirts of the village when I spot them.

Kayan, Rosalie, and . . . Samuel?

He is sprinting toward us, his face etched with anguish and outrage. “Stop!” he yells, drawing his sword. “Release her! You cannot do this, you have no right!”

“Did you tell him?” I call to Kayan, shaking my head. “He wasn’t supposed to know.”

Samuel draws to a stop in front of me. He is bigger than a lot of Leafborne fae, with dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. He flexes his wings. “Unhand my sister,” he growls.

For a moment, a fragile twinge of hope blooms in my chest. Perhaps he can make them see sense.

But it is gone almost as quickly as it arrived.

My escorts try to push past him, muttering platitudes like, The vote is cast, it cannot be undone, and, You will still see her. Just not here.

“This is her home,” Samuel growls.

Then his hand moves to his waist. His blade flashes in the sunlight and his eyes narrow. What is he doing?

“Let her go,” he says darkly.

The hands gripping my arms simply tighten. They try to move past him, but he lunges for one of them. His knife slices through the air.

I yell for him to stop.

I beg Kayan to stop him.

I stumble back, and Rosalie is at my side now, grabbing my hand. Not afraid of me.

Tears blur my vision as I watch the guards surround my brother. He has always had a quick temper, and has rarely been able to see sense once it takes hold. But I can tell from the way he’s fighting that he doesn’t intend to hurt anyone. He’s simply trying to stop them taking me.

But he is outnumbered, and the guards escorting me don’t know him the way that I do; they don’t know that he wouldn’t hurt them. That he was the kind of boy who cried if a bumblebee died in our cabin or a snail was accidentally trodden on.

Samuel drops his blade and splays his fingers. Fire magic crackles in them. He raises an arm and throws fire so it surrounds me, and Rosalie, and Kayan. “If you want her, you’ll have to go through me first,” he shouts.

But then he stops shouting.

I scream as Samuel falls to the ground and goes still. He is clutching his chest. An arrow protrudes from the spot just above his heart.

I try to reach him, but the flames hold me in. I beg Kayan to dampen them, but he simply holds onto my waist and tries to keep me still.

Samuel turns and meets my eyes. Already, the light is fading from them. His blood stains the earth. He whispers something I can’t hear, and blinks slowly. The guards are just standing there. No one is doing anything to help him.

“Why aren’t you helping him?” I shout above the crackle of the flames.

As Samuel closes his eyes, the fire withers to nothing more than embers on the ground. I push Kayan away and run to Samuel’s side.

He is not breathing.

My protector, my brother, is gone.

Because of me. Because of what I am.