I am of a fairytale kind much darker than parents would tell their children, the kind of fairytale that respectable adults only occasionally mentioned in hushed voices, the kind that the less respectable ones bragged about taking part in. I am what they call a Shade and even though I am a half-breed, the Shade part seems to be the only part that matters. My mother was a Shade and had hoped to one day abstain completely from what our "purpose" supposedly was. This "purpose" is reflected in everything we do. Male Shades are made to fit every woman's desires, although they mostly used for pure-breeding purposes and hidden from the world, the damned world that only wants the pure-bred female Shade products. We are made to fulfill every man's desires in our voice, our movements, and our appearance. Each Shade beautiful in their own way with a distinctly attractive asset that signifies our individuality, mine is my lips, blood red and perfectly shaped. Our minds may not wish to be like this, to want to fill every man's desires, to know exactly how to do so and feel the urgent need to, but our bodies have it instilled within us and few of us can resist. My mother was becoming one of these select few.
However, one night a man, or a monster whatever you prefer to call him, forced himself upon her. This monster nearly killed her and when she recovered physically her mind was left in tattered shambles. Insanity had taken over every corner except for the one that held her caring nature, for which I am truly grateful.
That man, the monster, is my father. Or what most would refer to as such, yet I refuse to acknowledge. In turn I try desperately to not only hide the Shade within me but anything that represents the evil and demons passed down from him. He was a sorcerer, a natural born one, not like the Rumplestilskin, "The Dark One", who received his abilities later on in life but one born with magic, one that is magic. I am magic. Because of the powerful clashes of the two breeds, that fight against my own being within me, my eyes are proof of my half-breed heritage. One eye rests in the dark evergreen coloring that represents Shades, while the other a stormy sea of blue. I have my mother's hair, golden and bright. But, I owe one of my more intimidating features to the man who is claimed to be my father. My nails that never fade in lucidity, they retain their ebony shine, and grow into pointed daggers whenever I change form. Yes, my form changes. Simple little spells can be cast without me doing so but the mixture of Shade and Sorcerer caused an inexplicable transformation that takes over whenever I find it necessary to cast more difficult spells or use my "special" gift that is different in every natural-born Sorcerer. I have this energy, poisonous and lethal, it is a burning energy that is held within me and coats my heart, my organs, my bones, and ignites itself already running as blood through my veins. This other form of mine is truly eerie and demonic and I wish not to tell you more of it at this time. Few have seen me in such form and those that have lived through the experience can be counted on one hand. I am Earla, daughter of Abira and ward of few, and I have a terrifying, dark power that you cannot imagine.