"Ailean The Evangel"
The Fey are an ageless people. My father said they had no beginning, and so they will have no end. What always was always will be. I’d always thought they were a myth.
The faerie standing before me now was beautiful. It’s rosy skin shone in the light of the distant moon as it stood atop its stony throne that walked on iron-hard legs of wood, holding me with its gaze; a dozens feet long serpent with gracefully curved horns, contrasting the faerie’s own, which were sharply twisted, coiled around the cathedra. It was all tension, its inhuman eyes trained on me, waiting for its master’s raised arms to drop. And they did.
I did not watch the beast strike me, I was unable to pull my attention from the mismatched emerald and violet eyes of the faerie. When the fangs pierced the flesh of my thigh I did not feel pain as I expected. No, instead I heard Mother speak to me. As I fell to the earth, enrobed by that rapturous voice, I noticed how the green of the serpent’s eyes mirrored one of the faerie’s. It was such a magnificent shade.
The warmth of Mother’s love began radiating outward from my thigh, washing over me to the rhythm of my beating heart. My, how wonderful that shade of green was, it was almost all I could see now, consuming my vision. Blades of grass wrapped themselves around me, and I had the sudden feeling that this was what it must’ve felt like in the womb.
It was then that I realized how tired I was, how tired I’d always been. I knew that if I went to sleep now I would awake invigorated like never before, ready to fight for a greater purpose. So I closed my eyes.
The last thing I saw was the faerie’s smiling face.
Surrounded by green.