The Clash of Yesterday (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 0.5)

The Light Fae who had come before them?

Well, they are known as fallen angels. There’s an entire legend that will be retold countless times at the Festival of Creation, but essentially a group of angels attempted to start a rebellion in Heaven. When God tossed them out, the worst ones—which are now known as Dark Fae—were sent to the Underworld to remain trapped for all eternity while those who weren’t actively involved, merely sympathizers, were banished to earth. Those became Light Fae.

They were stripped of their wings, their divine holiness, and most of their magic. It was supposedly a horrendous punishment for those who enjoyed the majesty of the Heavens.

Light Fae roamed the earth from the dawn of modern man and through the ages, but the human population eventually swelled and outnumbered the Light Fae, putting them in danger.

But then something magical happened. A meteor hurtled down to earth, but it didn’t do any damage when it hit the Egyptian desert in roughly 2,000 BC. Rather, it sort of settled into the sand, and that alone meant it was special.

In fact, it held magic, which was when things changed for the Light Fae. Pieces of the stone were chipped away, the magic used to create alternate realms where the Light Fae could go and imbued them with magical powers once again. There were hundreds of alternate dimensions, most commonly called an AltVeritas, and Brevala was one such example.

That is the legend of our existence, and while none of the Brevala Light Fae are original fallen angels, there are many living with Queen Nimeyah in Faere, a realm she created with part of the meteor stone.

Walking clockwise around the huge bonfire, I take a seat on the log bench next to Rishka, who spares me only a short glance before turning back to talk to our father. Our relationship is a little weird, and Rishka is pretty standoffish. Like Arnus, she’s never quite forgiven me for choosing to live in the Earth realm.

It wasn’t always like that, though. We’d been close when we were younger, but that was over a thousand years ago. At best, we’re civil to each other now, and that’s fine by me. When immortal, the passage of time changes things over and over and over again. Nothing stays the same. One day, perhaps, we’ll grow close again. We’ve got eons to figure it out, though.

“You’re looking well, cousin,” comes from my left, and I turn to see Ilona on the bench next to ours. I smile, genuinely happy to see a friendly face, and lean over to accept a short air kiss.

Ilona’s words are genuine. She’s sweet, humble, and non-judgmental. It’s hard to believe she can sit beside me with a welcoming smile… given I’m the one who cut her wings off a little over a thousand years ago.

“Your dress is beautiful,” I compliment her. It’s a simple lavender creation of cotton, but it’s off the shoulders with an empire waist and flows to the ground.

“Thank you,” she replies, chuckling as she glances down at it. “I made it myself.”

“You really are talented.”

If I want a dress, I go to Neiman Marcus, but if Ilona wants one, she puts hard work and dedication into crafting one. It’s a quality I can appreciate more than she’ll ever know.

I study Ilona carefully. She’s definitely a leader among the Meadowlanders, and, by that, I mean she leads by example. Hardships—and learning how to overcome them—have made her wise, and something special within her has made her kind and caring.

I’ve never quite understood why Ilona doesn’t hate me for what I did to her. Removing her wings was an excruciatingly brutal act because our ability to fly is one of the differences that sets us apart from other Light Fae. When Brevala was created with stone magic, its inhabitants were all gifted with the wings stripped from our ancestors. The gift of flight is dear to us all, especially while living in a place as stunning as our realm. In fact, since returning yesterday, I’ve spent most of my time flying over the Meadowlands, absorbing the true freedom found among the winds.

Ilona’s wings eventually grew back. It only took a few hundred years, give or take. I suppose she doesn’t hold it against me because she knew she violated a serious no-fraternization policy by being with her Bluff Dweller lover. She knew the penalty was usually death to both parties, so she realized removing her wings was a mercy shown.

Moreover, I think she understood I had no choice. When my father told me to do it, I had to.

Still, it makes me sick to my stomach every time I think about that day over a thousand years ago. I’ve seen unimaginable death and gore over my lifetime, but that one singular act of hacking off her wings was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever been a part of.