Birdie

It is a few days before anything else odd takes place. Three or so, to be exact. During this time, life had seemed to carry on as normally as it can in the Silversmythe manor. Tinsley and I spend some time dusting, and Pierre and I spend a lot of time taking walks out upon the trails leading to and from the city. Tai and I work on projects in class, and I even try and assist my Uncle with his inventions, but it isn't really my forte. I see little of Anastas but what I do see of him, he wears a smile, so I take a small comfort in that.

However, on the third afternoon after arriving home from school, Pierre and I go our seperate ways. He hurries to the workshop to help Uncle with his metal ox and I flee up the stairs. As I'm on my way to my room, a soft humming hits my ears- a bitter soft melody that I know. It's the tune that I've dubbed Elena's Song. Curious, I turn down the hallway before the one that leads to my room. There I find Tinsley cleaning the windows, humming the song softly to herself.

I drop my school books on the ground, putting a hand to my mouth. Tinsley could only know that song if she'd heard my Uncle play it. She had told me that she has been working for him for nearly 18 years now and it is entirely possible but I think that is what worries me most. She knows of Elena, and Odette. She knows what has happened and has not even mentioned it once in my time here.

She spins around suddenly, not knowing I had been there. She gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. She recognizes me and her face softens. "Oh, Skye."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whisper to her across the hallway. Had she not been a faery, her hearing being far better than any mortal's, I am not sure she would have heard it.

"Tell you what?" She asks innocently. I take a big, deep breath and try to calm myself down. It is not a big deal, I tell myself. It is a sad subject, I am sure, and none of my buisness. Though my mind spoke the truth, I just did not want to hear it. I want answers.

"About her? His daughter. Elena. How could you not tell me about her?"

She looks down shyly, "It is not my place to discuss such things. None of us staff were sure if you knew of her or not, and so we decided that we'd let him tell you himself."

"I-" I shut my mouth and open it again, but nothing comes out. I'm at a loss of words. She is right. It is neither my place nor her to discuss it, the daughter who was taken from him. She glances down.

"He's told you?" She asks softly, not looking up but still down as she glances away from my feet.

"No." My response is short and firm.

"Then how-"

"The dreams," I plead, falling to my knees. I guess I hadn't known it or realized it, but I yearn to confess to someone of these dreams. I want someone to know what I know, to comfort me, and reveal to me what my mind has not. I want someone to share my burden and to be just as puzzled as I am. And in this moment, that person is Tinsley. I confide in her immeadiately, hands in my hair and crying as I do so. As I tell her of each dream and my theft of the diary, I try to make sense of this woefull tale but I can't and when I finish, nothing is said for quite some time.

Tinsley silently comes to sit beside me. She puts her thin arms around my shoulder and pulls my head to her chest. She's cold but welcoming. I sob against her chest. "I just want to make sense of it all, I hate not knowing. It seems like this whole manor has a secret at every corner and it's wanting me to uncover them all. I'm overwhelmed and I cannot do anything about it."

There's a soft minute of quiet before her fingers are in my hair, running through the strands of brown. "It can be overwhelming," she agrees. "I wish I could help you, but I'm afraid I cannot. I think it is best if you discover what this house kept tucked in its corners on your own. Let the dreams fill in the blanks. Keep the diary, read it and see what you can. And prehaps one day, Master Edwin will tell you the story himself."

My whimper is soft as I speak again. "But where are the dreams coming from? Is it Odette giving them to me?"

Tinsley simply shook her head in reply and placed her lips against my temple. It sweet and cold, but calming nonetheless. "Faeries don't linger in this world once they've passed. No one knows for sure where they go, but they do not stay here. However, I think the dreams are stemming from Elena herself, or prehaps Edwin. Sometimes when memories are strong, they can be just as haunting as a spirit might be- and they can slither their way into dreams. I am positive that is what's happening."

I turn my head and look up at the faery girl holding me. Pale white hair falls down one side of her neck and her yellow eyes are dull in this light. I wipe the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. Slowly, I stand and Tinsley follows my lead. Not a single second after both of us are standing, I wrap my arms around her tight and smile. "Thank you, Tinsley."

She giggles slightly. "What for?"

I pull away and shrug a bit. "For advice, but mainly for listening. I needed someone to talk to and you were there for me."

She nods softly in response. "Is that not what friends do for eachother?"

I bite my lip and smile once more. I wander over and gather up my books, clutching them tight to my chest. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. My outburst had been sudden and childish and wildly unnecessasary, but I know that I needed it. I am feel a bit lighter, as if sharing my burden has taken some of the weight off my shoulders. It has, but it also has put weight upon her shoulders. I feel terrible about that, but I'm comforted by knowing she will gladly share this burden with me. I breathe out once more.

"That is exactly what friends do for eachother," I say whole-heartedly before rushing off to my own bedroom, a beautiful feeling running through my body. Friendship and love, if I had to name the feeling. It is wonderous and consuming. It makes me feel light and airy and good about life. Thanks to my many friends here, maybe my life really is a good one.



Nearly three days later, the circus finally arrived in Everstile. Pierre had been in the city earlier in the day for supplies and had described it for me. They'd just been setting up then though, but he'd told me that everything looked very intruiging and spectacular. However, when we arrive in the early evening, I find that his words had not done the carnival any justice.

Three blocks of the lower half of the city, as well as the market place, had been closed off and practically transformed to suit the large event. Wooden booths as well as tents, signs, and food stands litter the closed streets. Latern lights are strung above our heads, lighting the night in different hues. The booths have many different purposes. Some sell food, just as the stands did, but others sell jewlery or old trinkets. The tents, however, are the main events of the evening. They are large, colorful and vibrant, and have people streaming into them. The tents are specifically part of the carnival, whereas the booths were all set up by the citizens.

The tents are large and alternate in colors. Some are purple and white, otehrs red and white or black and white. But what is most attractive about these tents are the things being conducted inside of them. Reading the signs, I can see that some tents boast housing mythical creatures and others advertise magic shows or fortune telling. There is a rather wide range of events and all of them sound so fantastic. I smile up at the sign hanging above us as we walk into the carnival ground. It reads: Mister Dusk's Grimm Carnival.

"Is there anything you'd like to do first?" Pierre asks, taking my arm. I glance up at him, my mind taking me back briefly to the night Pierre haad slept in my bed. The moonlight on his skin made him like the glistening metal of a nights armor and his hair had been as silver as the moon itself. Tonight is no different. His skin glistens under the cresant moon and his eyes are much darker in this light.

"We could visit Paladrome's booth first. We promised we would," I offer. He agrees. We then start our journey through the sea of people. Children run through the streets, using Warlock crafted stones and branches to light their way. Parents follow behind, eating and laughing, enjoying the festivites. I smile. This carnival has always wandered around the Human Kingdom, going where the weather will premit their workings. They are made up of humans and wayward Warlocks alike, lead by a mysterious Mister Dusk, delighting adults and children. No one has seen Mister Dusk in years, some believe that he never even existed it. However, I don't know much other than that- my parent had refused to take me to the carnival. To many questional people, dear, my mother had told me.

Paladrome's booth is quite like her shop. She sits atop the countertop legs crossed, a velvet courset draped above her. She wears long, tight trousers -something not often seen on women- and a slim dress that is cut at the waist so she can move in her pants, one leg crossed over the other. Behind her, Flintlock sits upon a stool, eyes blank and placid. Next to the ginger haired woman are small metal trinkets. Necklaces and rings, small figurines. As she notices us, she smiles and waves.

"Where is Edwin?" She asks casually as we get closer.

I frown, "I tried to convince him into coming tonight but he's much to excited about his current project. I decided to leave it at that."

"Ah, well tell him I wish him luck, will you?" I blush and smile, nodding.

"I will tell him."

Next to me, Pierre breaks free from my arm and ventures toward the stand. Paladrome moves her legs and allows the boy to gaze at the trinkets. He lifts up a small peice of metal shaped into that of a tiny horse. He then sits it down and picks up one that resembles a small fish. Next, he lifts up a humaniod shaped one that has wire wings upon its back. He smiles and merely says, "Cute."

When he returns to my side, we make some more small talk with the woman, her eyes on me the entire time. With a caustious wave goodbye to her, we walk away quickly. She is kind enough, that is for sure, but she sort of gives me the creeps sometimes. We meander through the closed off streets and enjoy our night together. We eat sweet foods and he even buys one of those glowing rocks for me. As it nears the earliest morning hours, I am surprised to see that we are still here- and even more surprised that I do not yet wish to leave.

We visit many of the tents, gazing at the exotic animals, many of which are just conjured illusions. They are fake, but all too surreal at the same time. I see many creatures, lions and tigers, manticores and minotaurs. I also see some terrific sideshow acts, also made real by the aid of Warlock magic- the man who grows needles from his skin and the woman who can change her appearance at will. However, as we are ready to turn head back to the manor, we pass a tent and Pierre stops us right in front of it. Peering at the sign posted in frony of the tent, he asks me, "Want to have your fortune told."

I blush. "Oh, come one, Pierre," I tell him, "Magic can do a lot of things but I do not think it can predict fate."

He just smiles, shaking his head, "Then you do not know much about magic, do you? C'mon, just get your fotune told. It will be fun, I promise." The grin upon his face is wide, inviting. I nod slowly, unabel to resist him with his attitude at this sort of mood. He takes me hand and hurries me inside.

The tent is much small on the inside than it had appeared. There is one lone table in the center, a cliche crystal ball in the center, four candles lit and placed in each of the cardinal directions. Despite the candles buring a steady flame, the lighting in the room comes of in shades of pink and lavender and flickers about. Next to the table are two plush chairs, the one on the far side of tent is occupied. A stout middle aged woman sits, bent forward with her head resting in her left palm. Her graying blond hair is in a frizzy mess and her green eyes are bright, but unhappy. Uopn hearing our footsteps, she perks up. She sits straight up, a smile rushing to her lips. Her eyes, however, still seem distant and sad.

"Have a seat, orphan," she says as she beckons me with her finger. I freeze for a moment. She knows that my parents are no longer alive. She laughs softly and still beckons me. What is she? I ponder this as I step forward and sit upon the chair. Pierre follows, standing behind me and placing a cool hand upon my shoulder.

"I am as mortal as you child, a human just as you are," she assures me. I don't have time to question how she knew what I had been asking myself just a moment ago because she speaks again. "I am blessed with the blood of the iron-slain, but I am human yet. However, the blood of the fey has given me more knowledge of this life than many others not. Not even all halflings can do as I can."

I look her over for another moment. She seems to be in her mid-forties but soemthing tells me that this isn't the case at all. Her skin has barely any pigment and her eyes are brighter than most. They hold the sorrow of those who have witness what no mortal can't. She had said she is a halfling, and a half-faery at that. She could easily be eighty years old. "Yes, but how did you know-"

"Child, it is my gift to know. I know all that is past and all that is present." She smiles absently, moving the crystal ball off of the table and placing it on a small pillow on the ground. "I know that you don't believe in crystal balls, and you have the right mindset on that. Complete scam, they are."

I let my body relaz, my gaze softening ever so slightly. Behind me I can feel Pierre settling as well. His grip on my shoulder loosens but does not break. I don't have the oppurtunity to speak because she speaks before I can.

"It is not as if I know all of you, dear. Just a vague picture of your life. I can see you were born on a farm and lived there for most of your life. Your parents died because of a major accident. Seeing as the crash of the Sky Train is the only major accident in years, I assume it is because of that. From there, you have been living with..." she pauses a moment. She clenches her eyes shut and opens them slowly, smiling the whole time. "An older male. Perhaps a grandfather, possible it be your uncle instead. You have many mixed feelings for a certain faery, you have undying trust for guardian, but you also constantly feel sorrow and regret. For what, you are not sure. Your name is that of something beautiful and bright, something that can be commonly found intoxicating by most people. A flower, perhaps?"

I mean to interupt her but once again, she beats me to the punch. "No, not a flower. Your name is simple and strong. It has no meaning other than its namesake. Skye, I believe."

I gulp, feeling the cold hand upon my shoulder tighten once more. I nod slowly. "Yes ma'am, that would be correct."

"I thought it would be," she smiles softly. I look up behind me, glancing into the caring eyes of the faery boy. Pierre offers as much support and kindness as he can. Not even he expected any of this to be as accurate as it has been. I suddenly get an idea and I vocalize it quickly, afraid of her reading my thoughts.

"And what about my friend, can you guess his past?"

She doesn't even acknowledge what I have asked before she scoffs, waving her hand in front of her face. "Do not be ridculous girl. Faeries and Warlocks are the same in the sense that neither stand within time. They are born into this world but neither have a forseeable death. Neither stand within the test of time and therefore they do not follow time's flow. They may as well as have no past and no future- they are a constant, just as this planet Earth is."

"Oh," I mutter softly. I look down into my lap for a moment. A second later, the old woman bangs her palms down against the table, taking my attention back to her. She smiles at me.

"Nevermind all that, girl. You came in here to get your fortune read, is that not right?"

"That is right."

"Now, take my hands," she says and lays her hands palms up on the table. I put my hands out but them draw them back quickly. I bite my lip.

"You know all about me but I know nothing of you. I would at least like to know your name, if nothing else."

"I am the half-faery, Reina. I am the seer of time and the prophet of what is to come. If that satisfies you, you may take my hands now."

I nod and take the woman's, Reina's, hands in my own and she smiles big. Her brigth green eyes suddenly uncloud themselves, the sorrow replaced by wisdom and infinite knowledge of all things that have ever been and all that will be. She shuts her eyes, her voice slow. "I shall only look into what you wish for me to see, do you understand?"

"I understand."

"I just need you to relax, keep your eyes closed, and respond to me if I speak."

"I will do so," I reply and close my eyes as she has closed hers. Her hands suddenly grip mine a lot tighter than before. I do not see her with my eyes but I sense her happiness and know that she is smiling. I feel a slight wind around me. Pierre tightens his grip on me. I don't feel anything for a long time but then I feel her thumbs rubbing the center of my palms, tracing shapes that I do not recognize. I am curious to see what they look like but I keep my eyes closed.

After several moments of complete silence, Reina talks to me slowly. "I am at a fork in your essence. Your time line leads in thre directions- one that predicts your future love life, one that predicts the future itself and the major actions of your life. The third is one that tells of your demise, your death. Before we begin exploring these paths, I need you to know that time's flow does not always go as it has been planned. Any amount of small actions can change your own future. There is very little you cannot change. Shall we begin?"

"Yes," I whisper.

"Please, tell me which path you wish to see first."

"My love life, I suppose," I reply timidly. I had breifly pondered exploring the other two, but I had come to the conclusion that this might be the safest option. I do not think that I want to know how I may die and perhaps I do not want to know the entire workings of what my furute has in store for me.

"Very well," she says calmly. Her thumbs start working in reverse them, tracing the same shapes and patterns as before but this time much faster and backwards. Finally, I feel her make the shape of a dianty, small heart. I feel her grin. "I cannot forsee who it is that you will marry, for that is completely changeable by fate. However, I can see one child in your future."

"A child?" I ask slowly. Though she cannot see who will be my husband, and I have my own hopes, I did not ever think of myself to have a child. Some girls want children and think about it before they are married, but not me. It isn't that I don't want a child, it's just that the thought has never occurred to me.

"A male, if I am seeing this correctly." I blush, urging to pull one of my hands away to cover my mouth. Instead I feel Pierre's hand loosen its grip once more and he puts his free hand on my other shoulder. He squeezes them softly, massaging them just slightly. "Now, would you like to see your future?"

"You can show me it?"

"I can show you all in this path, except your demise. There will be pictures and flashes, things you may not remember nor understand, but yes, I can show it to you. Is that what you wish."

I mull this over for several minutes. Is it wrong to see my own future? Before even coming into this tent, I never thought that it could be possible, but now I'm being offered to see the course that my life will take. I feel like this might be cheating, to know my life before it takes place. Then again, anything I might do could alter my future. By the time I leave here tonight, it might not even be the same any more. Finally, I agree.

As soon as I agree to it, the vision start flooding my head. I see so many thing rushing through my closed eyes all at once that I barely have any time to catch all of it. I see fire, I feel it on me. I can see horses running along dark green grass. I see snow, hands shooting magical essence from the palms, Pierre's smile, a blond boy, a line of wavering magic in the sky. A sword swings, tattoos line someone's arms, large smokey creatures wander through the forest. A million more pictures rush through my head but I can't see any more of them and in a moment, my mind is dark and black again.

Where I'm astounded by all that takes place, Reina must have different feelings about it. She shrieks as loudly as she can and smacks my hands away from hers. I open my eyes quickly just in time to see her raising from her chair, pointing a crooked finger at me. Her green eyes are no longer green at all but are the color of wet mud and give away all of her anger and fear. "You," she hisses.

I leap to my feet, Pierre already leaping in front of me. Reina doesn't jump at me or make any movement to attack me. I peek from behind Pierre to see that she's still pointing at me, but tears are streaming down her face. "Leave here! Now!"

I panic and grab at Pierre's waist but he won't go with me. He just stands, his sights fixated on Reina. She's dropped her hands and has closed her eyes. She's trembling, shouting to us. "Skye, you must leave here and never come back. You must go as far away from here as you can. You have already started it, you cannot stop it. It has already been foretold. There is no changing it now."

"Please, ma'am, what are you talking about?" I beg, shouting over Pierre. I get no clear answer.

"You have damned us all, you stupid girl. You've killed us all! You've dug our graves!"

I grab at Pierre's beltloops, trying to pull him to me again. Fear has already set in and I know I need to leave. I need Pierre with me though. "Pierre, please! Let's go!"

"Go without me," he calls from over his shoulder. "I will settle things here. I will bhe right behind you. Go."

I probably should have begged for him to give it up, to forget Reina and come with me, but I didn't. I am too freaked out and scared, and so I run with the hopes that he will be behind me soon. Before I even leave the tent, I hear her shout after me once more. "We will all fall. It is all because of you!"

I run out of the tent and onto the pavement, no time to even process her words. I keep up my sped as I weave through the carnival goers, not once looking behind me. At some point, I break out of the carnival blocks and onto the streets that aren't blocked off. My feet are loud against the hard paved streets, more than likely waking up sleeping citizens. I don't care though, I just keep running. I run through the streets, cutting through buildings and allies, not truly aware of where I'm headed.

It's a solid five minutes before I hear anyone else's footsteps other than my own. I've turned down a long alley on the Upper side of town. I can't tell if the footsteps are behind or in front of me though. My heart is racing, aderenaline pumping through my body. "Pierre?"

There's no answer, save for the footsteps getting louder and closer. I then run the way I'm facing and try not to look back. If I can just get back to the streets, I'll be fine, I tell myself but it's almost to late. As I come to the end of the alley, a figure steps out in front of my me and shoves me back with a great force. I twist and fall, my cheek and head smacking hard against the rough alley road. I groan, already losing conciousness. The last thing I hear are two seemingly familair voices.