Silver City
Two
When Logan's magic faded, it could only be replenished by the blood of someone who shared my father's lineage, as the ceremony that transformed him dictated. Though my mother suggested it, Logan's soft spot for the raven haired child who closely resembled his lover, deter him from taking my blood next. Instead, he devised a plan and convinced my mother that Grandmother would be best. Her blood was older, he'd said, stronger.
They'd gotten as far as the murder. The same carving knife was slid across Grandmother's throat as she sat with us for lunch. My grandfather, bonded to her in a way that was rare for our kind, felt her abrupt departure from our world, and stormed our home within minutes, his small but strong army of men closing in after him. In his rage, he killed Lochan, my first and eldest halfling brother.
All the halflings were eventually killed, throttled and drowned before us in the fae's High Judgment Court, the king seated upon his thrown, stone-faced and ready for any possible rebellion against his orders. Mother and Logan sat shackled together against one side of the grand hall , while I was held loosely by one of the king's men near them. Logan cried shamefaced as they laid his seven children, imperfectly human, at his feet. Mother stifled a sob produced from grief at his pain.
The punishment didn't end there.
We were banished from the fae world, a bounty placed above our heads and hands irreparably branded with the seal of the accursed. I was punished alongside them, though Grandfather pled for my amnesty. I had witnessed both murders, with blood on my lips, and to the court,in a crime considered to be of the highest magnitude, it didn't matter that I was just a child. I was permanently tainted by the acts and couldn't be allowed to walk among the fae.
We lasted in those woods, the woods were Mother first found Logan, the woods to which we banished ourselves, for nearly ten years before Logan's immortality began to drain, his body aging rapidly to catch up with his human years. Mother loved him, if only him, and couldn't see him die. It wasn't long before she came after me, the only full-blooded fae within her grasps.
As I slept, she bound me to my bed. Holding the silver knife by its beautifully carved wooden handle, she pressed the edge against my wrist, capturing nearly a pint of my blood into a basin on the floor before she was interrupted. Logan was furious, refusing to so much as look at her for weeks on end. But eventually, with some coaxing and his ever-aging body, he relented, though he made her apologize and swear on her name to no longer harm me.
Fifteen more years passed before they came. We'd stayed together, and I volunteered to replenish Logan's supply when it emptied. Mother and Logan birthed more sons and daughters, devilishly wicked half-fae siblings.
And for a while, things were good. But with halfling children running rampant in the woods, wreaking havoc on nearby towns and luring small children to horrendous deaths and tortures in the woods, it was only a matter of time before we were found again.
They'd gotten as far as the murder. The same carving knife was slid across Grandmother's throat as she sat with us for lunch. My grandfather, bonded to her in a way that was rare for our kind, felt her abrupt departure from our world, and stormed our home within minutes, his small but strong army of men closing in after him. In his rage, he killed Lochan, my first and eldest halfling brother.
All the halflings were eventually killed, throttled and drowned before us in the fae's High Judgment Court, the king seated upon his thrown, stone-faced and ready for any possible rebellion against his orders. Mother and Logan sat shackled together against one side of the grand hall , while I was held loosely by one of the king's men near them. Logan cried shamefaced as they laid his seven children, imperfectly human, at his feet. Mother stifled a sob produced from grief at his pain.
The punishment didn't end there.
We were banished from the fae world, a bounty placed above our heads and hands irreparably branded with the seal of the accursed. I was punished alongside them, though Grandfather pled for my amnesty. I had witnessed both murders, with blood on my lips, and to the court,in a crime considered to be of the highest magnitude, it didn't matter that I was just a child. I was permanently tainted by the acts and couldn't be allowed to walk among the fae.
We lasted in those woods, the woods were Mother first found Logan, the woods to which we banished ourselves, for nearly ten years before Logan's immortality began to drain, his body aging rapidly to catch up with his human years. Mother loved him, if only him, and couldn't see him die. It wasn't long before she came after me, the only full-blooded fae within her grasps.
As I slept, she bound me to my bed. Holding the silver knife by its beautifully carved wooden handle, she pressed the edge against my wrist, capturing nearly a pint of my blood into a basin on the floor before she was interrupted. Logan was furious, refusing to so much as look at her for weeks on end. But eventually, with some coaxing and his ever-aging body, he relented, though he made her apologize and swear on her name to no longer harm me.
Fifteen more years passed before they came. We'd stayed together, and I volunteered to replenish Logan's supply when it emptied. Mother and Logan birthed more sons and daughters, devilishly wicked half-fae siblings.
And for a while, things were good. But with halfling children running rampant in the woods, wreaking havoc on nearby towns and luring small children to horrendous deaths and tortures in the woods, it was only a matter of time before we were found again.