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“It was a common belief among the inexperienced Neopets
which dwelled on the ground and seas below that faeries were born with the knowledge
of their ancestors. Of course, such legends soon died out with the discovery
of the fabled ‘Faerieland’, the cloud which Faerie-kind has called home for
many centuries. For, upon that cloud, was the revered ‘Faerie Academy’. Many
were surprised by this revelation for…”
The voice reading these words slowly trailed
off, serve boredom overtaking her psyche. She had to read this book for homework,
but how could she? It was so horribly dull that whenever she tried to read the
first chapter her eyelids would immediately start to droop and sag.
The owner of the voice closed the book and walked
out of the enormous library and down the hall. She was an odd looking Faerie,
not like the kind which you normally find in bottles and jars on Kauvara’s shelves.
No, those faeries are full of joy and life, but this Faerie was thin and haggard,
her appearance looking as though she had been denied a good meal and sleep for
a long, long time.
Her hair was a deep sky blue and styled in the
fashion of pigtails on either side of her head. Her frame was small and fragile,
and her face looked as if she had not smiled in ages, but so desperately desired
to do so.
But the oddest thing about this young Faerie
was not her frame, nor her face, but her wings.
A Faerie’s wings were everything to them, as
it was rumored to be the link between one Faerie and her heritage. It was an
awful thing for her Faerie to loose her wings (whether by punishment or by an
evil foe), but almost as horrendous as that was to have maimed wings.
Nadriella knew this and despised it. She felt
sick every time she would walk down the halls of the academy or around the walls
of the city. The other faeries would look at her horror-struck, as if she was
running around screaming that Sloth was their ruler.
She always had crumpled wings, ever since she
was born.
She spotted a silvery pillar as she walked down
the hallway and looked into it, staring at the reflection of herself and her
wings. As she got older, she noticed that her beloved wings were looking worse
for the wear. What should have been elegant wings, stretching to the sky with
a vivid blue hue were small and bent, like a damp, wrinkled shirt. There were
tears on the edges of her wings, as well as gaping holes inside. She tried with
all her might to move them, but they never would, and because of that she could
not fly.
A Faerie that couldn’t fly, it was like a joke.
Faeries learned how to fly even before they could walk or talk. But with her
deformed wings, Nadriella was lucky to even move them, let alone flit among
the clouds as every other Faerie relished in doing.
It seemed like an awful, cruel joke to her.
“I’d better go get my things for ancient language,”
Nadriella said to herself. She spoke to herself a lot, not having any friends
to talk to or acquaintances to at least chat with for that matter. Her Faerie
sisters avoided her like she was a mutant pet, neither talking to her nor sitting
with (or near) her at meals. The only time they would talk to her was when they
hissed with malice that she was “méclya”, a word which meant ’unworthy
of wings’ in the old Faerie tongue.
The young Faerie walked up to her empty dormitory
and took out her things. The dorm was pretty much hers, as every other Faerie
refused to bunk with her, afraid that what caused her wings to decay might afflict
their beloved wings as well. But that was fine with the young air Faerie; at
least she had a place where she could be alone from all the others, after having
to endure their jeers and scorn during classes at the Faerie Academy.
The room was found in one of the higher towers
of the academy, where she could look at the Faerie queen’s castle in admiration
and stare at the clouds all night. She sometimes even closed her eyes and just
leaned out the window. It almost felt as if she was flying.
Nadriella rushed into class, and was one of the
first to arrive. She took a seat towards the front just as a group of faeries
within her class stopped their conversation to stare at her.
“Why are you still here, méclya?” asked a haughty
light Faerie. Nadriella didn’t look at her and began to take out her brooks
and writing instruments as the other faeries began to file into the room.
“She asked you a question méclya!” yelled an
angry Fire Faerie as Nadriella continued to ignore the group. The room began
to get quiet as the other faeries noticed the spectacle and began to watch.
The group walked over to Nadriella’s desk and circled around it. The timid Air
Faerie could no longer feign ignorance.
“Whoops!” hissed an Earth Faerie as she waved
her hand, causing the ink well on Nadriella’s desk to shatter as it made contact
with the cold marble floor. The Air Faerie looked up at the Earth Faerie with
innocent eyes.
“Why did you do that?” she asked quietly. They
found this amusing joke and began to laugh, but not the type of laugh that faeries
normally give. No, this was cold and full of cruelty.
“Because you’re not a Faerie! We only have Faeries
here! You barley have magic and your wings are… well…” a dark Faerie snickered.
Nadriella looked over at the Dark Faerie and shook her head.
“I’m still afraid I don’t understand why --“
“YOU’RE NOT A FAERIE!” roared a water Faerie
nearby. The class launched into a wild cheer of agreement that echoed throughout
the halls.
“THAT IS ENOUGH!” an unfamiliar voice hollered
inside the spacious classroom. The young Faeries turned, and as they did each
felt an ice-cube slip into their stomachs. Standing in the doorway was none
other than Fyora, queen of all the faeries. Nadriella felt her cheeks go warm
as she looked at the Queen Faerie framed within the doorway. She was so beautiful
and graceful, like a flower that was perfectly preserved through the ages.
The purple Faerie stormed up to the water Faerie,
who quickly averted her gaze towards the ground.
“Every one here is a Faerie, Miss Syrith,” The
Water Faerie’s pale cheeks turned a scarlet hue as she was address directly
by the Faerie Queen herself. Fyora turned her gaze towards the class, eyeing
each and every one of them.
“Any Faerie that is here is part of our family.
They are your sisters and are part of you as well and therefore will be treated
with respect!” she said clearly and fervently. A few faeries cast a dark eye
at Nadriella wanting dearly to shout out something different, but didn’t dare
in the presence of Queen Fyora.
“Now, I will be your teacher for the next few
weeks,” Fyora began, her voice becoming kinder and calmer as she progressed.
“Your original teacher has been called out to an important task in Meridell,
and seeing as how there is no one else who can properly train you in the old
Faerie tongues, I will take over,” Fyora explained. There were a few gasps in
the room as she finished, a class taught by the legendary queen HERSELF?! Why,
this was amazing! No one was ever taught by the current Faerie Queen!
Fyora walked up to the front of the class and
began to write down the symbols and words of the languages they were learning,
pausing once in a while to explain a certain pattern. The lesson was a thoroughly
interesting one as Fyora seemed to know everything about the languages. Nadriella
hoped that the lesson could go on for hours, but of course it could not and
eventually the bell rang, signaling the end of class.
“Now, for homework please translate the words
of Celathiel the Earth Faerie in your books and have it ready for me to check
tomorrow,” Fyora announced to the departing class (some of the young faeries
gave a curtsey before they left). Nadriella began to pack up her things at her
normal speed; she was always used to being the last one out of the class that
she did not realize that Fyora was staring at her.
“You should hurry up, young one.” Nadriella jumped,
having thought that she was alone in the room. “You’ll be late for flying lessons.”
Fyora nodded sternly at Nadriella. The Air Faerie cast a downward eye on the
floor.
“I don’t have flying lessons… because I cannot
fly.” She continued to look at the floor, thoroughly embarrassed. To have to
tell such an awful thing to the queen herself was utter disrespect. She feared
that Fyora might banish her to the Haunted Woods for being such a dreadful sight.
“Oh… I’m sorry,” Fyora said softly. The remarkable
thing was that she truly, truly sounded as if she was sorry. Nadriella looked
up at the queen, taken aback by the kindness (for no one ever apologized to
her before) and smiled.
“But my queen it’s not your fault, so why should
you be sorry?" she inquired. Fyora beamed and looked down at the broken
inkwell that still lay on the floor from earlier in the hour. The ink had dried
during the lesson, staining the pristine floor with black ink and shards of
glass.
“Let me get that for you,” she offered kind-heartedly,
waving her hand in a gentle sweeping motion. The shattered pieces flew back
together, bonding to each other instantly while the ink peeled itself off the
ground and poured back into the bottle. The startled air Faerie picked up the
bottle and looked over at Faerie queen. No one ever helped her, or even spoke
kindly to her.
"I... I… thank you!” she said, quickly getting
up to give a respectful curtsey to the queen. Fyora shook her head at Nadriella.
“Please, its okay, I’m glad to help you Miss
Nadriella,” Fyora said. Nadriella’s eyes opened wide.
“How did you know my name… and Syrith’s name
as well?” she asked, hoping not to sound rude. Fyora gave an odd smile at the
question, as if wondering how much of it to answer.
“I know many, many more things than that,” she
said in a mysterious tone. Nadriella wanted to press her further, but didn’t
dare for fear that she may sound rude.
“In any case, perhaps you should just go to the
lesson to talk to a few friends,” Fyora suggested casually, she saw instantly
that she, once again, had said the wrong thing.
“No friends?” Fyora asked. Nadriella looked down
at her blue dress, fiddling with a piece of fringe as to hide her watering eyes.
“I really don’t need friends, I’m quite okay
on my own, Queen Fyora,” the Air Faerie whispered, her voice sounding hoarse
and forced. She quickly got up and began to walk away.
“Excuse me Queen Fyora but I really have to go,”
she yelled, dashing away, not wanting the queen of all faeries to see her tears.
Fyora knew, however, the pain that Nadriella felt and felt equally as upset
as the young air Faerie. She sat down in Nadriella’s chair, feeling as if she
had just broken the poor Faerie’s heart even more and had no idea how to fix
it.
“Oh, what have I done?” Fyora sighed to herself,
laying her delicate face in her hands. But though her hands she saw something,
something that could fix it…
On the desk was a single hair.
A hair from one of Nadriella’s blue pigtails.
Fyora picked up the blue strand of hair and stared
at it, a wonderful idea forming in her mind.
To be continued...
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