Author's Note: Thank you for taking the time to read my work. This series is inspired by themes from Hans Christian Anderson's The Red Shoes and The Little Mermaid. It is intended to be read as an urban prequel to the ballet The Fire Bird.

Chapter One

There is a certain harmony to that moment right after the bell rings. The students rise and pack in unison, moving to the same quick tempo in a rush to leave the classroom and end the dance. A jarring sensation drew me away from the symphony that played in my mind, and my bag fell to the floor.

"Watch it, twinkletoes," the hulking mass of Shane Anderson grumbled as he shoved past. Shane had been a constant nuisance since I'd arrived at this new public school. Not only did he interrupt the music of everyday life, he had to do it with cliches.

I began to reach for my things, which were oh so conveniently scattered across the floor, but they were swept up into my bag before I could touch them. I glanced around quickly, but none of the straggling students seemed to notice the phantom wind. Maybe I had imagined it. It had almost seemed like for one moment, one blissful moment, the silence wasn't so bad. A hand on my shoulder jerked me out of my thoughts.

"Ignore him. He's a professional jerk to everyone, it's nothing personal."

I snatched my bag up from the floor and stared pointedly at my shoulder. He quickly removed his hand. I turned to go to my next class, and his bouncing step echoed behind me.

"So… You're a dancer?"

I roll my eyes and refused to grace him with an answer, instead focusing on maneuvering the crowded halls. The entire school knew that I had been a dancer. The drill team took an annual trip to see the Royal Ballet, and one of them had recognized the name Arielle Fieren when I first transferred. It had resulted in a warm welcome, right up until they realized that it was all in the past. When I was suddenly the not-so-rich girl who had fallen far off of her pedestal.

Instead of dancing my way to a brighter future, now I dance to hold onto my sanity. I can never stop. Even the idle rhythm of just tap, tap, tapping my fingers in class helps me to escape. It helps me to cling to each eight count as choreography flows through my imagination. My entire world has become rhythm and movement. Every step, every tick of the clock, every measure that I can count. It never stops. And I don't want it to.

If it stops… well, then I'll have to face reality, won't I? It will all crash down around me, all the fractured remnants that were once my life. I'm not that girl anymore. I can't be.

"So what kind of dance do you do?"

Seriously? Was this kid still here? I pivoted, turning to stare up into piercing grey eyes. I blinked, startled. His eyes pulled at me, made me feel comfortable, made me want to lose myself in them instead of music. The kind of eyes that could leave me more broken than whole. Which meant that they belonged to exactly the kind of guy that I didn't need in my life.

"Ballet," I stated flatly.

I saw the realization dawn in those stormy eyes, and I waited for the inevitable awkward good-bye. Then a new expression came over his face and he set his chiseled jaw in determination. I turned away, not caring to await his rejection. Then a bouncing step matched my pace, and the chatter continued. Joy. It looks like I've made a friend.

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, and Stormy Eyes disappeared at some point before lunch. I hadn't bothered to learn his name, because by now I had learned the pattern to my new friends. They would stick around until the novelty wore off, and then I would resume my role as the social pariah. There was really no point to learning their names, that was a privilege that I was no longer willing to bestow.

At least with no one to talk to, I could focus on the steady beat of life. I danced through the day, ignoring everything else. Abigail, my younger sister, was having a much easier time adjusting to our new life. Then again, while I had trained at the Royal Ballet Academy, Abigail had been to a normal private school. Abby was also a freshman, so technically everyone in her year was new to the school as well. She seemed to actually be happy here. In the interest of not burdening her with my shroud of solitude, I had formed a habit of eating my lunch alone on the school grounds. There was a lovely bench slightly hidden by a copse of trees where I could sit peacefully with my music.

Abby might be happy here, but I felt like I was suffocating. This fire, this drive that had enabled me to claw my way up in the dance world now had nowhere to focus its energy. It was burning me alive.

I was burning. I was falling. No, I was… flying?

I soared through the air, embracing sheer delight as the wind sang its sweet song to me. A glorious heat surrounded me, but it didn't hurt. For the first time in weeks, I felt free.

The forest below glimmered with life, more vibrant and clear than any I had ever seen. I dipped lower, determined to explore just a portion of this beauty that I could view for eternity without tiring. My eye caught upon a luminescent surface, and as I neared I found a shimmering pool of starlight.

My wonder grew the closer I flew to the pool. In fact, the only normal portion of the ethereal glade seemed to be the water lilies that dotted its surface. I was quickly proven wrong. The platinum and gold gilded lilies rested upon pads of rich green velvet. The jewel encrusted stigmas winked in the starlight. The sight was so breathtaking that, for a second, I forgot how to fly.

Then I truly was falling. Not because of my temporary distraction, but because of the searing pain in my right wing. I spiraled down, staring hopelessly at the freezing iron arrow that pierced my fiery wings. Down, down, down I fell, grateful that if I had to die, I would be engulfed by the beauty beholden to the pool of starlight.

Suddenly, I stopped falling. I couldn't move, I couldn't fly. I was tethered in place by a golden net.

Staring down at me was a man that I had never seen before. His features radiated an otherworldly beauty, from his sharp cheekbones to his delicately pointed ears. His silky black hair was pulled back into a simple knot atop his head. The pain in my injured wing distracted me from properly admiring his unnatural beauty. When my eyes locked on his, I didn't see the blue. All I saw was cold, unyielding ice.

"You are mine," he said.

I woke up screaming.