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Faeth: Prologue
Creative
 Created on 12-23-07
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 Story Rating G
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Our lives are hanging on by a thread. In a world where law is divine command, to commit treason is to oppose God. We of the Faeth are decreasing in number. Our abilities have been accused as demonic possessions and a threat to the Democracy. The commoners live in fear of us and act upon it. They do not understand us, because we are different. And different is not accepted; if only I were born a pure…
My name is Lilac Saedris. I possess a special bond with nature that grants me paranormal gifts. I am always on the run, taking shelter in the homes of the clote when the situation demands. It is no longer an option. We of the Faeth must assemble and determine a course of action, or be extinguished. Rumors of crossing the vast blue are nigh, in hopes of discovering a new world; a safe haven for our people.
I frown upon my bloodstained hands. I wish to be peaceful, but the commoners force me to fight for my life. I am after all, easily distinguished. Our hair, by inheritance, is silver laden. Well, except for a select few. Some of our kind are blessed with colored strands and can blend in well with society. It is unfortunate that many of these blessed embrace the Democracy and reject the Faeth; this way, they are not hunted.
I have one comrade. He is a skilled bowman of the clote, and is accompanying me on this exhausting journey. We begin our daily journey at dusk; the darkness assists in concealing my identity. Before dawn of the following morning, we have located our hideout for the day. We take turns keeping watch, because sleeping is far too risky.
This has been going on for nearly three months. Thankfully, we are only two days away from our destination. We can only hope for the best; our headquarters is in the city of Guilopte, and entering under the close watch of Democratic soldiers will be my most challenging adventure yet.
My name is Lilac Saedris. I possess a special bond with nature that grants me paranormal gifts. I am always on the run, taking shelter in the homes of the clote when the situation demands. It is no longer an option. We of the Faeth must assemble and determine a course of action, or be extinguished. Rumors of crossing the vast blue are nigh, in hopes of discovering a new world; a safe haven for our people.
I frown upon my bloodstained hands. I wish to be peaceful, but the commoners force me to fight for my life. I am after all, easily distinguished. Our hair, by inheritance, is silver laden. Well, except for a select few. Some of our kind are blessed with colored strands and can blend in well with society. It is unfortunate that many of these blessed embrace the Democracy and reject the Faeth; this way, they are not hunted.
I have one comrade. He is a skilled bowman of the clote, and is accompanying me on this exhausting journey. We begin our daily journey at dusk; the darkness assists in concealing my identity. Before dawn of the following morning, we have located our hideout for the day. We take turns keeping watch, because sleeping is far too risky.
This has been going on for nearly three months. Thankfully, we are only two days away from our destination. We can only hope for the best; our headquarters is in the city of Guilopte, and entering under the close watch of Democratic soldiers will be my most challenging adventure yet.
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