Twenty years later
Blood splattered across shattered stone. Bodies lay strewn upon the ground, lifeless and broken. Flames devoured the once-golden towers, painting the night sky in crimson and smoke. A kingdom was falling chaos howled through its streets, and the air was thick with screams.
In the heart of the ruin, a young woman knelt upon the burning earth. Her torn dress clung to her like ash; her pale skin was streaked with blood. Celeste's golden hair flowed wildly around her shoulders, glowing faintly even in the darkness. She stared at her trembling hands slick with blood, her own or another's she couldn't tell and tears carved pale lines down her soot-stained cheeks.
A voice whispered beside her, cold and sharp as broken glass.
"You were never meant to exist."
"You can't escape what you are."
Then the everything shattered and Celeste woke up.
She gasped for breath, clutching at her chest. Her heart raced, her skin damp with sweat. Around her, the soft moss of her bed was cool beneath her fingers.
It was morning. Shafts of golden light streamed through the small round window of her room, glimmering off the petals that hung like garlands from the walls.
"This dream again…" she murmured. For a week now ever since her twentieth bloomday the same vision had haunted her every night.
Celeste pushed herself upright and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Her small room was cozy and alive flowers bloomed from the walls, their colors changing with the light; tiny wisps of pollen drifted like stars. Her golden hair, long enough to reach her waist, shimmered faintly in the sun. Her green eyes glowed with the soft luminescence all fairies possessed, yet hers seemed brighter, more vivid, almost otherworldly.
"Oh no, I'm going to be late!" she exclaimed suddenly, panic breaking her morning daze.
She hurried to freshen up... a quick splash of dewwater from a crystal basin. Celeste hurried to dress. She wore a long cream gown made of soft silkwillow fabric, simple and graceful the kind worn by the poor fairies. Her golden hair fell in two loose braids on each side, adorned with tiny petals that shimmered faintly in the light. Even in her modest clothes, she looked effortlessly beautiful radiant as morning sunlight.
And moments later, she swung open her wooden door.
Her parents were already in the living room. The little house was carved from the roots of an ancient tree, its walls warm and golden with age. Her mother, Iris Brookleaf, was setting out breakfast honey cakes and steamed nectar while her father, Alder, sat quietly at the table.
"Celeste! I was just about to come wake you," Iris said, smiling. She looked nothing like her daughter, her hair was chestnut brown, her almond eyes calm and gentle. Alder's hair was black as bark, his eyes the color of a twilight lake. Many who met them wondered if Celeste could truly be their child. But of course, she was.
"Mother, why didn't you wake me earlier? You knew I was running late," Celeste said, her voice sharp with frustration. Her mother usually woke her each morning, but today she had let her sleep far too long.
"I wanted you to rest," Iris replied softly. "You've been working so hard at the palace lately."
At her words, Alder's expression darkened.
"Mom," Celeste said gently, "I told you not to say that. It's my duty to work for our family. I'm old enough to do it and you don't need to feel guilty anymore."
"I'm sorry, Celeste," Alder said from his seat, his voice low and cracked with regret. "If I had worked harder… you wouldn't have to carry this burden. You should be living like other young fairies.
Celeste's eyes softened, though her heart ached. The Brookleaf family had served the palace for generations. Long ago, their ancestors had become bound by debt and oath, their line condemned to servitude. Alder had tried to break the cycle working endlessly, gathering every crystal coin he could but the debt only grew. Now he and Iris were too old to work, and Celeste had taken their place, determined to free them one day.
"Dad, it's not your fault," she said firmly, cutting off his guilt before it could deepen. She reached for her satchel. "I'll be late if I don't leave now."
"Where's Puck?" she asked suddenly, noticing her little brother's absence.
"He went out early," Iris replied.
"To do what?" Celeste frowned.
"Oh, nothing. He didn't say."
Celeste sighed. "That boy… I can guess what he's up to."
She slung the satchel over her shoulder. "I'm leaving now."
"At least take some honey cake, Celeste!" Iris called after her, holding out a small plate.
But Celeste was already stepping out the door, the morning light catching in her hair. She didn't look back.
Iris watched her go, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. Then she turned to Alder sadly.