All characters are mine, feel free to review and stay tuned for chapter two!
Chapter one: Take me Away Mr. Sandman
January 1st, 2008. She'd celebrated New Years with her classmates barely twelve hours ago, and now, just as her body began to give way, she celebrated her eighteenth birthday within the confines of her own room. Antonia Randolph blearily watched as her electric alarm clock changed from 11:59 to 12:00. Her bones ached from all the running up and down she'd been doing all day, and her eyelids could barely stay open. With the last few remaining active brain cells in her head, she silently asked whatever power controlled her puppet strings to give her a good first semester at College, and to make her 18th year an unforgettable one. Midnight, she'd heard once as a child, was the witching hour, the moment in time when anything and everything could happen. Though superstition mixed with her about as well as oil and water, she couldn't help but drop her walls against it for a moment. After all, a girl only turns eighteen once.
Her room was like any other teenaged girl's room if, albeit, a little less pop-culture oriented. All her furnishings-the bookcase, dresser, armoire, desk, chair, and nightstand-were carved from deep, dark mahogany. Even the headboard of her bed was extremely intricate and ornate, almost looking rococo. The off white walls of her room matched her off white lace bead spread, purely for decoration of course. On top of her bead spread were numerous lilac colored pillows, mostly made out of satin that shone pinky lilac on moment, then more lavender the next. One large window took up nearly the entire fourth wall of her room, bordered by a lilac, plush window seat that really was a large pillow-like platform that jutted out from the sill. Small African violets made their home on the actual window sill, and, despite the northern Massachusetts weather, survived. Various art prints lined her walls, everything from Matisse to Diego Rivera. Her book shelf was absolutely stuffed to the hilt with old, dusty, mainly first edition books.
Classmates had voted Antonia 'most respected' in the senior poll. She was quiet, and kept to herself most of the time, but was very nice to everyone. Also, it was rumored that her mind rivaled some of the greatest thinkers of our time. The classes she took were intimidating to say the least, she spoke fluent Russian and French, played the violin like a goddess, and brought in the nicest Holliday-themed cakes. Antonia never dressed provocatively, though looked well put together and tidy every day, and she'd never actually dated anyone. It hadn't come as a surprise that one of the top universities in the US had accepted her early decision, because people expected that sort of thing from her. Sure, guys liked her, but she'd always seemed so above them; not because her looks were particularly fantastic, but because of her adult, intellectual, mature air. At the moment, she lay sprawled across her bed, a dusty, yellowing book of fairy tales facedown on her stomach. She'd started thumbing through it after dinner, when the sun was still out, and hadn't bothered to put it back. She still had on half her outfit from dinner. Her jeans were in the laundry hamper, so a pair of pale green fuzzy socks and green and blue striped cotton briefs were the only things covering her long, thin pale legs. Her entire build was thin and lanky. Though she had a few curves in the right places, her long, awkward limbs took more focus. On her torso was a grey cable-knit woolen sweater. Midnight blue eyes revealed fuzzy images of the Degas ballerina print hanging just beyond her sightlines before shutting for the night. Pouting peach lips breathed a sigh of relief and fatigue; reddish-brown hair spread out on top of her pillows.
Antonia loved to sleep, though she never dreamed. She couldn't remember ever having a dream, for that matter. Sleep provided her with a large blackout, an escape away from the day and all the little stresses it brought. For this, she was truly grateful. An old-fashioned white coil radiator steamed slightly, giving off a burst of heat in the room as slumber gripped Antonia's mind mercilessly, dragging her into the bowls of sleep, that deep, bottomless sleep from which no one awakens easily. The clock struck 12:01, her breathing deepened, and slowly, her body temperature dropped. The night stilled; not a single creature stirred for that one precious moment.
This would prove to be anything but a normal sleep.
An unspecified amount of time later, Antonia took in a deep gasp of breath and yawned, stretching out. Soon, she'd have to head downstairs and help her mother take down the Christmas wreath. Her bed felt unusually hard, and her room smelled different…earthier. Groggily, she opened her eyes and gasped. Above her, a canopy of tree branches filtered out muted sunlight. Crooning from various animals echoed all around her. She seemed to be situated within a forest, in the middle of a grassy clearing. Her lithe form rested on top of a large carved slab of white marble, covered in large pink flowers from the branch directly hanging over her. These flowers caught in her hair, which had lengthened by at least a foot, and covered her body. "Life in death" was inscribed on the side of the large slab, though not in English. Dazed, she sat up, feeling fabric rustle over her torso and legs; she looked down, and saw that, not only was her body swathed in pale green silken robes, but her skin had turned caramel in color. A lock of thick, raven hair fell into her face, and after about ten seconds of thought, Antonia registered that the foreign hair belonged to her as well. Though she could not see them, her eyes had morphed from midnight blue to almond shaped and emerald green.
Panicking, she felt her face, only to discover that her nose felt slimmer, her lips slightly more bow-shaped, and a thin gold band encircled her forehead. Her fingernails, normally bitten to the quick, looked perfectly manicured, if a bit long. A look of horror crossed her face as she realized that her ears now pointed and tapered. What in the world had happened to her? Antonia swung her legs across the edge of the marble slab. Her robes slithered behind her and around her, but the moment her suddenly dainty (bare!) feet touched the ground, her legs gave way as if they hadn't been used for some time. What's more, they were completely numb. "Help…please," she croaked, voice raspy, throat dry. Before the words could even leave her lips properly, she clamped a hand over her mouth. Her voice, normally low and honey-like in texture, suddenly sounded more melodic, like the gargling of a brook and the whisper of trees rolled into one thing. She assumed that, for the first time in eighteen years, a dream actually managed to ensnare her, but then, why did everything feel so real? Pins and needles overtook her entire body as muscles contracted and expanded, bringing tears to her eyes as her whole being shook uncontrollably. She completely collapsed onto the ground at this point. Tears fell onto the ground, each on hitting the earthy surface like a miniature crystalline ball. On the moment of contact, small shoots sprung up from the apparent sustenance of her tears.
Her bronzy face blanched as she witnessed this feat, and her stomach turned, leaving her feeling quite ill. Had her tears honestly just produced plants? Yes, she'd seen it with her own eyes, and yet, those eyes weren't even hers in the first place. Shaking, she got herself into a crawling position, only to have her head swum from the overload of information, leaving her on the floor again. Her eyes shut, and Antonia slowly took in deep ragged breaths. Maybe if I count to ten, and then open my eyes again, this will stop and I'll wake up in my own room. This solution made sense, though by the count of fifty, she still found herself n the exact same position, the exact same predicament. Curling up in a fetal position, Antonia nearly started bawling her eyes out when an unfamiliar voice sliced through the air.
"By the gods!"
This voice sounded like the crackle of autumn leaves and the powerful snap of wood. A reassuring, overpoweringly mushroom-like earthy smell bombarded her senses as the source of this voice entered her line of sight. He kneeled down beside her, peering into her eyes, face plastered with disbelief. The first thing she noticed was that he wore a tunic made from the same material as her robes, and trousers underneath it. His own eyes were deep brown with flecks of green and orange in them. Hair was curly, also brown, with a few orange leaves strewn about in it. She noted that the dimples on his tanned face accentuated his cheeks.
"You…you are awake! And after so long!" He smiled, making his dimples more pronounced. "Oh, how happy I am to see you…" his hand brushed the tears off her cheek, a welcome gesture if rather forward. Antonia shuddered, drawing away from him and again trying to stand on her own. He awkwardly removed his hand away "Please, allow me to help you up," he offered, though before she could answer, he lifted her to her feet.
Antonia looked into his face with a stern, measured gaze, but the waver in her voice revealed her fear. "A-awake? No, I'm-I'm asleep. What do you mean by so long?" She winced and hobbled away from him on unsteady legs. "I don't think I know you. In fact, I don't know anything about this place," she mumbled under her breath, clinging to the trunk of a tree for support.
The young man, who looked to be around twenty years old, persisted despite her erratic behavior. "Surely you jest. You must remember-" his voice broke, as if recalling something painful. "You must remember me." Antonia shook her head, the longer curlier raven locks feeling unfamiliar to her as they swished around her hips. A long silence ensued, a deep, dark, thick silence. She felt him move towards her. His feet made no noise, but somehow she felt his presence nearing her. A warm hand gripped her shoulder tenderly, yet persistently at the same time. "Rowena, you must remember me." Her blank eyes gave him a definite answer. She did not. "My name is Antonia. I don't know where I am, or who you are. I fell asleep in my room and woke up here." His chocolate brown eyebrows wrinkled. "No. Your name is Rowena. You've been in a deep slumber for the last eighteen years. I'd know your face anywhere. Besides, I come to watch over you every day-I've been waiting for you to awaken for so long…" He trailed off, obviously pained. "That can't be true, because I'm only eighteen years old," Antonia triumphantly stated. He, obviously frustrated, shot her a look "You are one hundred mortal years old on this very day. I've known you since you were eighteen-" again, his voice broke "Rowena, you truly cannot remember?" "I told you, my name is Antonia, not Rowena. I live in Kingsford, Massachusetts."
The young man, Ander, leaned against a tree, deep in thought. He knew Rowena's face. This surely was her, and yet, she seemed so convinced that she wasn't herself. Rowena, you see, had mysteriously fallen into a deep slumber eighteen years prior. Her kin, (the entire clan of earth fey,) decided to place her body in a secluded, protected area where it could not be disturbed by unwelcome visitors. They'd hoped for her awakening for years, particularly him. After all, he and Rowena…well…
And now she'd awakened and lost all her memory. What's more, she claimed a different name and age. Ander found it hard to believe that she couldn't recall anything. Currently, in his world, a great clashing of forces was underway. He and Rowena claimed lineage to the earth fey, magical, immortal folk who kept to the forests and drew strength from the earth, including plants, rock, etc. Moments after Rowena's slumber, news of the Fire fey's alliance with dark kin reached the highest authorities of the earth fey, water fey, and air fey. Dark kin encompassed demons, shadow beings (colloquially known as dark fey,) vampires, and lychans or weres. The fey, or rather, the majority of the fey, elves, and druids considered themselves Light kin. With the addition of the fire fey, the Dark kin had gained a considerable amount of added force, and skewed the delicate balance of power that had been preserved for many millennia.
In those few moments, Ander decided to keep these things, and a few other things, from Rowena. At least until she regained her memory. "Come with me. I think, perhaps, I can hemp you sort out this mess," he requested while extending a hand out to her. Antonia nodded; her main focus of sorting out her whereabouts and getting back home clouded any qualms about strangers. They glided through the forest, him supporting most of her body weigh as her muscles found themselves again. They passed by a small pond, and in its glassy surface, for a moment, Antonia glimpsed her beautiful new face. She quickly averted her eyes, not wanting to accept it.
How fast were they traveling? She could not tell, and yet, this form of movement seemed the most natural thing in the world to her. The melded in with the trees and plants around them feet barely skimming the surface of the ground, and yet, remaining completely rooted to it. Grounded feelings and feelings of life settled underneath her obvious discomfort. Presently, Ander-and consequentially, she-stopped in front of a towering oak tree. After looking around, he stepped inside its gnarled surface, pulling her in behind him. Antonia, too shocked to speak, gripped his hand harder than before and nearly passed out when she saw the kingdom spread before them. Everywhere, endless, centuries' old trees towered into the heavens, and numerous people, all wearing green robes of some sort, nestled in their branches. Some curled up in the nook of a particularly strong bough; others lay on top of makeshift platforms. Ander, full of purpose, lead her towards what looked like a vine covered wall. Actually, it was an entranceway to a spacious, marble tiled home. Plants of every kind sprouted on the walls, stairways, and furniture. She'd never seen anything like it. He lead her down one of the numerous long hallways that lead to god knows where, and they soon stopped in front of an enormous oaken door. Without knocking, Ander barged in, dragging her behind him. "My lord Cyros, Rowena has awakened," he urgently declared.
The being he spoke to had long brown hair, olive skin and mossy colored eyes. He looked perhaps ten years older than Antonia and Ander, but in reality, he'd lived at least a century longer. His robes resembled hers in their color and texture, and in his right hand, he clutched a long wooden staff. A thin golden band snaked around his head as well, snaking behind his pointed ears. Cyros's mouth dropped open, despite his obviously dignified, poised nature. "Rowena?" He immediately glided towards them, facing her within moments. "She remembers nothing of her life before the slumber, my lord," Ander added regretfully, just as the older man was about to embrace her. Cyros lowered his eyes "I see." Turning back to Antonia, he sighed "Well, how do you feel, child?" Tentatively, she began "I feel-"
Antonia's dark blue eyes flew open as she saw Degas's painting bathed in sunlight. Her room was freezing, and her sheets were twisted around her shaking form.