Prologue

It was a well-known legend in the days of old that the faeries lived amongst the civilians of Misthaven, carefree and harmonious. Healers were aplenty as the faes share their medicinal knowledge, and advice was given freely from the minds of seers.

Sadly, the peace did not last and the Kingdom factions split into two, no longer content to live united. Both fought to rule the land and serve as the one true ruler. Thus the country was split: the Northern and Southern Isles, ruled by the Astillians and Gadiens respectively.

The faes, always the pacifists, tried to stay unsuccessfully out of the way but were manipulated into giving prophecies and slain as a result of keeping the information out of enemy hands. With little choice, the remaining faes scattered into the mountains where it was rumoured that the Elders set up a hidden realm, shrouded in mist to stay away from prying eyes and wandering travellers.

Blood stained the land but the faes continued to live their own peaceful lives, never to wander from their universe; thus fae sightings were few and far between, if even real at all. As decades wore on and peace seem to be far beyond reach, whispers started that the kingdom with a fae's blessing will be the one to win the war. Thus searches were begun with vigour and ended in disappointment as the faes remained elusive until in the years to come, their existence became stories of myth and legends told to children to engender hope and faith.

In a quiet village known as the White Mountain Village, pieces of a prophecy came into being, one that depicts the end of the war and the procurement of a ruler. Lives will be entwined, from the North, the South and the one that will start it all, the last descendant of the fae tribe.

Killian's first love is the sea, he felt a pull for it like air to his lungs – the salt in the air, the ebb and the flow of the water, the crashing of the waves. The wind chiming its song as it challenges the ocean to a melodic dual that has it humming in his veins.

He treasures the moments at the harbour, which are far and few between as it's almost half a day's travel from his home, and only when his mother has business to attend to.

Thus his second love came to be the woodlands, where the smell of pine and earth envelops him like a welcome embrace. He found a love in the serene atmosphere that imparts its own music amongst the backdrop of greenery, crisp and clear in the sunlight as the breeze weaves its way through the canopy of leaves.

The woodland beckoned to him from his backyard where he gladly ran to when his only daily task left is the collection of firewood. So he would always depart with a shout to his mother and return with arms full of kindling, leaves in his hair and a smile on his face.

It is here that he made a friend (at least, he hope she is a friend as they have yet spoken), always greeting him with an impish grin and sparkling green eyes. She dances through the trees in white, bare feet almost silent as she leaps from tree to tree, blond hair catching the sun in a halo of light.

They play hide and seek, although he is always at a distinct disadvantage as her giggles filter through the trees, the only clue to her whereabouts. Killian give as good as he's got, weaving his way through the underbrush and foliage, ducking the low-hanging branches and jumping over sprawling roots.

Occasionally, Killian would wonder about the forest, briefly question if he saw the branches lift up out of his way, or if the roots sank further down to avoid him tripping, or even assisting him in his pursuits when the foliage nudge him in the right direction. These observations would flitter through his mind before it dissolves into the one-minded notion of winning the game.

He never catches her though, only bidding her farewell when sunset is imminent (he refuses to let mother worry), collecting his pile of firewood and always finding it stacked up with more than he collected.

Her name is Emma and she is a fae. Killian discovered this the day he decided to climb a tree. He was only half way up when he slipped, the fall a long way down (and surely painful) when he was caught, the ferns tickling his face and soft on his back as the branches moved him swiftly to his destination at the top of the tree where Emma is perched in waiting. The branch deposited him next to her with a pat to the head, leaving twigs and leaves in his hair.

"You're real?" was Killian's dumbfounded response as he recall the stories his mother would use to lull him to sleep at night.

Green eyes blinked at his curious question. "Yes, but you mustn't tell anyone."

"Why not?"

Emma shrugged. "I don't know but my aunt Ingrid would get very mad at me."

"Oh, okay." Killian accepted this without further question, not wanting his friend to get into trouble.

Most importantly, however, they now have a new play area to run around in as Emma shows him her turf, teasing him with light leaps and graceful landings while he stumbled behind her. The forest is generous in lending a helping hand as they caught the children in mid-flight, allowing them to play jumping frogs on branches that would quickly shift into position to accommodate their moves, plucking Killian out of the air by his collar when his too short legs miscalculate a jump.

It is the most fun two children can have as they collapse in fits of laughter on the soft mossy banks.

Shortly after Killian turns eight, a group of men bearing the royal crest, came to his home. Killian didn't like the look of them, especially given the soft gasp that was elicited from his mother at their arrival. But a kindly looking man was amongst them, with horn-rimmed glasses and receding fuzzy red hair. He introduced himself as Archibald (but Killian can call him Archie), a royal tutor who is here to take Killian to the castle to live at his father's command.

Killian didn't know his father and his mother made little mention of him beyond that fact that he is an important figure, that Killian's dark hair and good looks came from him and that she is grateful that she was able to keep Killian by her side.

The young boy did not understand why his father would want to take him away, only that it made his mother very sad. He reached for her hand to comfort her and tears trailed down her face, the lines of worry deeper than ever. The sadness dimmed the light in her eyes as she told him that she will not be able to go with him.

("Be brave, Killian, but be kind. It's time to make your own adventure.")

Killian ran.

He left a trail of shouts and cries of his name as he ran towards the only place where his happiest memories are held other than home.

It was a cloudy day to begin with but now the clouds fulfilled its promise as the soft pitter patter of rain began its descent. The forest look as lost and forlorn as Killian does.

Emma found him tucked at the base of their favourite tree, the overgrown roots almost hiding him from view. A large leaf had moved to cover him from the worst of the rain, which had started coming down in earnest. She crouched before him, head canted to one side as she regarded him with curiosity.

"Why are you sad?"

"I have to go away." Killian sniffed, wiping his face against his damp sleeve.

"Why?"

"My father sent for me but mother can't come."

"Oh." Emma looked wistful, lost in her own thoughts when she spoke. "I've always wished my mum and dad would come back for me."

It was with surprise that Killian realise he knew nothing about her family, not that they spoke much beyond their play, other than the occasional fact drops, like when she helped a werewolf the other day.

"Where are they?"

"Gone." She gave a small sad smile. "But it's okay, I've got my aunt Ingrid and she loves me, even if she is strict."

Silence stretched between them until Emma asked, "How long will you be gone for?"

"I don't know."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Of course." Killian answered adamantly. "You're my friend."

Emma grinned. "Good."

They fell asleep at the tree, watched over by the forest, hands clasped tight with the promise of friendship despite the fear of what tomorrow will bring.

And that was how Ingrid found them, two children with no knowledge of what the future holds. Her heart is heavy with what she must do. She shot a look of warning at the plants as they made to interject, intent on protecting the light of happiness that has ran amok on their grounds over the last few months. But even they must cede to what appears to be a higher purpose.

Orange light painted the sky when Killian awoke to the water dripping on his face. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up, wondering how on earth he had fallen asleep on the forest grounds or why he was here to begin with. His eyes alighted on the pile of kindling and he quickly went to collect them, surely he must be due home soon. If it is the last night he must spend with mother, he will do his best to make her happy.

And if the sound of a familiar tinkling laughter permeated his mind as he left, he shook it off as nothing more than a dream