Chapter One

Andrew penned the last words and closed the leather-bound journal with a sigh. He had just chronicled the whirlwind adventure his life had been, but the rest of the story still remained unwritten. Eternity stretched out in front of him, and he hadn't the slightest clue what to do with it. He raked a hand through his blonde hair as Mina entered the room, beautiful as ever. A white sundress billowed over her lustrous form and he smiled as she settled herself on his lap.

"So you finished it," she said, nodding to the journal.

A crooked smile lit his face as he held it aloft. "After a millennia and a half, yes," he sighed. "Honestly, I don't know if she'll like it. Half the time I'm babbling about how beautiful you are."

Mina laughed softly. "No doubt you embellished too much," she said as she leaned in.

"Never," he breathed, and closed the gap for a sweet kiss. The sun played off her golden hair and it felt like butter as he ran his fingers through it. A lilting tune floated from the festivities below and he smiled as the kiss broke.

"Come down to the market with me," he pleaded, losing himself in the eyes that held his. "I'm thinking of getting a little something for Crystal, something special to mark the day."

She moaned as he kissed her throat. "Can't," she breathed, leaning away from him. "I'm running around like a chicken with my head cut off. There's so much to do, and the day's half done already."

He groaned softly. "Fine, but you owe me."

She winked at him as she edged off his lap. "Later," she told him, a playful smile on her lips. "We still have a feast to get through, plus Crystal's coming-of-age ceremony. It's going to be a long night."

"Too long," he joked. "With all the preparations for this shin-dig, I feel like I hardly know you."

"Tell me about it," she said, and bent to kiss his cheek, her pearl nails trailing along his jaw line. With that kiss she sealed a promise that when things settled, they would pick up where they left off. With another wink, she disappeared around the open door, gold hair flashing behind her.

Andrew sat back, running another hand through his hair. "You know," he said to the now empty room. "Sometimes being royalty royally sucks."

In the end, the lure of the festival could not be avoided, and soon Andrew found himself strolling around the coastal village. He had donned the peasant clothes he often wore into the city; only the amulet around his neck hinted to his identity. Inhaling the scents of the sea, he milled around the colorful booths, looking for nothing in particular. He knew his daughter never fancied the gaudy jewelry of the upscale shops near the palace; she favored simple and unique craftsmanship, and that was where he looked. He stopped at a table with wares that suited his purposes. A teenage boy stood behind it, with a dark tunic that crisscrossed at the neck. When he lifted his gaze, Andrew gasped. A pair of eyes as green as his own stared back at him; it was like looking into a mirror. They had a haunted look about them, as if he had been spending his whole life wandering, searching for something that could never be found. To quell the goose bumps that had crawled over his skin, Andrew broke eye contact with the boy and instead stared at the items on the table. They were all fine pieces of work, but one in particular caught this eye. It was a necklace on a silver chain, the pendant of blue pearl trapped in silver wire. He stole a glance back at the boy.

"The craftsmanship is very fine," he commented in an attempt to make conversation. "Did you make it?"

"Sort of," he said with an elegant shrug. Andrew was irritated at his tone, but did not show it. His attitude was a mixture of apathy and arrogance, and he was puzzled by it. He felt a pull towards this boy, and the feeling unnerved him.

"How much?" he asked him, returning to the task at hand. The boy gave a smug grin, as if the desired price was high above Andrew's head.

"Twenty crescents."

With a grin of his own, Andrew reached for the purse at his waist and pulled out the exact amount.

"It's a small fortune," he sighed as he produced the coins. "But for a gem like that, I'd say it's worth it."

The boy's eyes widened as Andrew called his bluff. Reluctantly, he wrapped the precious stone and handed it over in exchange for the money. As Andrew grasped it, he noticed a bracelet of white seashells hanging from his wrist. A prickling went up his spine, and a feeling of déjà vu swept over him.

"That bracelet," he breathed, staring into eyes that matched his own. "Where did you get it?"

The boy blinked under Andrew's scrutiny and his voice quavered slightly. "It was a gift from my mother," he said.

Suddenly aware that he had leaned over the table, Andrew straightened and attempted to regain his cool composure.

"I see," he replied. "She must love you very much to give you something so precious. Is she around?'

He peered past the boy's shoulder, but the cold look in his eyes made Andrew take a step back.

"She dead," he said bitterly.

Andrew's breath caught; he had overstepped his boundaries and had unwittingly touched on a sore subject.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, but the teen did not return his gaze. He held up the package in farewell. "Thank you for the pendant. Good day to you."

He walked quickly from the booth, and though the day was warm, Andrew felt he had just been drenched with ice-cold water.

The boy watched him go, turning the money in his hands. It was well beyond what the pendant was worth, but he paid it easily. By the looks of it, this guy was richer than he was letting on. He stole a glance at the coins. The king's image was etched on it, and for a moment, his eyes shot up as Andrew's form blended in with the crowd. There was no way they could be the same, and yet…

The teen shook his head, scoffing as he tossed it into the air and pocketed his prize.

Nah.

At sunset, the ritual began. The wings had begun to emerge at midmorning, two identical bumps on Crystal's back, and now they were close to breaking the skin. The healers and priests were summoned, Stefan among them. He had not aged a day since Andrew had met him, and he nodded as the king and queen entered the bedchamber. In the light from the casement windows, Andrew could see his daughter lying flat on her stomach on the bed, her back slick with sweat. Over the course of the day she developed a steady fever, but Stefan assured them it would break by nightfall. She wore a white shift that untied in the back to let the wings through, and it slacked over her shoulders as she hunched over the pillows. The priest had just finished the rite of succession and now anointed her with oil, sketching the Venus symbol over her forehead.

"So mote it be," he finished, and he had barely taken a step back when Andrew lurched to his daughter's side.

"Daddy," she gasped upon seeing him. "It hurts."

"I know, baby," he whispered to her, taking her hand firmly between his two. "But it won't last long, I promise. I've never seen you so beautiful; so brave."

She smiled through the pain. "Except that time I stayed with Pluto during the attack."

He returned her smile though tears glistened in his green eyes. "I remember. You were my little guardian, and soon you'll be a guardian angel."

His attempt at humor had its desired affect, for she rolled her eyes at him and laughed softly, but it was caught in a gasp as pain shot across her shoulders. The agony only increased as the wing tips broke the skin, blood trickling down her back. Making his excuses to Andrew, Stefan stepped forward, a piece of bark in his hands.

"You had better bite on this," he told the girl gently. "The pain will only get worse."

Suddenly wide-eyed, she gripped the bark between her teeth. She held fast to her father's hand, and he did not let go. Mina had joined him then, sharing the same tearful gaze as her husband. She hovered at Andrew's shoulder, taking an astonished breath when the Venus symbol began to blaze forth. Andrew flinched when blood spattered across his face. The sight of blood was nothing new to him, but seeing his daughter suffer sent his stomach roiling. Crystal cried out as the wings emerged, covered in blood and grease. The feathers shimmered in the candlelight, pearl-white with gold edges. As they sprang from her back, she gave a shriek, the bark falling from her lips. She fainted then, and both Andrew and Mina looked to Stefan in alarm.

"She's alright," he assured them. "The worst is over. She will sleep for hours yet while her wings are cleansed. You may stay with her if you wish."

"They're smaller than I expected," Andrew said, eyeing the edges of the wings. They arched just above the top of her shoulders and the furthest feather graced below her ribs.

Mina answered. "When they sprout, all wings are like that. Once they are cleansed, her wings will disappear and grow to full size. When we see them again, they'll stretch about five feet in each direction."

Andrew's eyes widened. "That will be magnificent."

Mina smiled and placed her hand on his knee.

As the chief healer moved to his task, the couple faced each other. Mina grimaced at her husband and dipped a cloth into a basin beside the bed, wiping the blood from his face.

"I'm sure you've seen worse," she murmured.

Andrew flexed his fingers where Crystal had grasped them. "Not like that," he whispered, stealing a glance back at his daughter. "Nothing like that." He tore his gaze away, suddenly nauseated. Mina smiled in sympathy and helped him to his feet.

"You go," she told him. "I'll stay here with her. Besides, this is more women's work anyway. Go find your brother and tell him his niece has grown wings."

"Who does that pompous jerk think he is?" the green-eyed teenager spat, kicking the sand at his feet. The sun was setting, a golden ball of flame balancing over the horizon. Another day's work had passed, and he had more than enough coins to show for it, courtesy of a certain blonde stranger. The man was probably a noble by the weight of the purse he was carrying, so why would he bother with the likes of him when his money could have been spent elsewhere?

"And he was giving me weird looks too," he added, throwing a rock into the sea. "Like he wanted to dive into my life story."

"Probably because you were giving him weird looks back," his companion pointed out. Rose was his age, with kind blue-grey eyes and hair the color of red wine. They had grown up together and she was more than used to the boy's outbursts. He had every right to be angry, having been abandoned by his parents and left to scrape and scramble for every spare coin, but this stranger did not deserve his wrath.

"Even if he was a noble, that doesn't give you the right to be rude," she told him.

The boy gave a frustrated sigh. "And why do you keep defending them?" he demanded. "The likes of him have been nothing but trouble for us. They think they're something special, living in their fine houses and find it amusing to flaunt their riches among us less fortunate folk."

Rose gave a sigh of her own. "Oh Derek, would you stop?" she pleaded. "We're not that bad off. It's only by the grace of the king and queen that-"

"And they're the worst of them!" he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. He glared up at the castle and the festivities that were no doubt happening within. "They sit there on their high hill, enjoying the good life while we struggle down here. Children are starving and men work their hides off for barely a day's wage. It's sickening to me."

They picked their way along the beach as the boy fumed silently. As she knew it would, his anger cooled and he slowed his pace. Hopelessness had replaced the fire in his eyes, and Rose tried to cheer him up.

"We have so much to be thankful for," she said, her voice barely heard over the sound of the waves. "You remember the stories Zeke used to tell us? Life now is a cake walk compared to those days."

"Yeah," he admitted, looking out to sea. "I remember…"

"Tell us the story again," young Derek pleaded. The clan sat by a roaring fire, the ruins of the once great palace looming forlornly behind them. They were all orphans now, their parents having been killed when the forces of the Dark Kingdom invaded the Moon and, subsequently, Venus. Ezekiel was the eldest of them, tall even at thirteen and blonde-a true Venusian. They had gone into hiding as blackness descended over the planet, and it was all they could do to just survive. Zeke sighed from across the fire, whittling a stick with the hunting knife he always carried with him.

"One more time," he told them. "It's getting late, and you're going to need your sleep if we're to make it to Arcadia Ridge by sunset tomorrow."

Derek and Rose nodded eagerly and huddled close to listen; Zeke was an exceptional storyteller, and they didn't care if they'd heard it a thousand times.

"Long long ago," Zeke recited, his voice slipping into the cadence of the story. "There were two powerful bloodlines, each fighting for their chance at the throne. The king and queen who ruled before were fair and just, and the kingdom flourished with peace and prosperity, but at their deaths, the planet fell into chaos. On one side there was the handsome yet ambitious Roger of Arcadia, a distant relative of the fallen queen. His lust for power was legendary, and when the opportunity arose, he took the throne."

"He was a bloody tyrant." He paused to spit in the fire, and the flames sputtered in response. He continued without missing a beat. "The sky turned red with the innocent blood he spilled, and the kingdom groaned under his oppression, praying for a savior."

He smiled suddenly. "Little did the sorcerer know that his downfall lay right under his nose, waiting for her chance to pounce. Princess Ann, the true and rightful heir, had gone into hiding, biding her time until Roger's arrogance reached its peak. She was a true beauty, even at twenty, with platinum hair and eyes the color of the sea. Beside her was the valiant Vulcan, her man-at-arms. He was the only one she truly trusted, and over the course of their years together, they fell in love."

Rose sighed at this part, as she always did. This was true of the other girls in the gang. Derek raised a sound of disgust, the other boys chiming in as well.

Zeke ignored the sound effects. "At last the time came for the young princess to make her move. Armed for battle, she and the rebels who had joined her cause stormed the capital, and soon an entire army stood at Roger's door, and she challenged the sorcerer to battle."

Zeke's captive audience barely breathed, and the teen gave a crooked grin. Here came the best part.

"As you might expect, this uprising did not sit well with the false king. The tyrant massed an army faster than you could blink, and advanced toward the princess's forces."

The boy paused for effect, leaning over the fire.

"In fact," he whispered. "The two armies collided at this very spot, on the Arcadian plains, and it's said the ground is still saturated from the blood of those that died."

Even though he'd heard this tale before, Derek shivered, as did his enraptured companions.

"Afraid she would die in the morning, Ann summoned Vulcan into her tent, and the two of them took vows under the light of a full moon, with only the gods above to bear witness."

Derek made a face and stuck his tongue out, but gave an indignant cry as Rose shoved him to the ground. Zeke continued unhindered.

"The battle lasted three days, with neither side gaining ground. Finally, on the dawn of the third day, the princess herself entered the battle. She was a vision, her gold armor blazing in the morning light. Her silver mare reared, and she raised a scepter of amber into the air, and with a mighty war cry, she plunged into the fray."

"See," Rose hissed. "Women can be warriors too! I told you so, but you still don't believe me!"

"That's just in fairy tales," he argued. "None of this stuff is real, is it Zeke? Tell her she's wrong. There's no way a woman could fight in a battle like that."

A frown crossed the older boy's features, and Derek suddenly regretted his words.

"My ancestors fought in that battle," he said solemnly. "This story has been passed down through the generations to my father, and now it's been passed to me. Ann was as real as you and I, and as sure as I'm sitting here, she defeated Roger that day, encasing him in an amber prison and banishing him to the far ends of Venus."

The two children sat, staring open mouthed at each other. This was one of their favorite tales, but the ending left them breathless every time.

"So what happened next?" Ariel, a girl of no more than six, asked excitedly. "Did the princess and her knight live happily ever after?"

Zeke smiled. "Indeed she did, little one. Ann and Vulcan married in a formal ceremony at the palace, and she was coroneted soon after. Peace reigned once again, and in the years that followed, the new Queen gave birth to a daughter, who was as gracious and beautiful as her mother had ever been."

Rose sighed deeply, utterly content. The children knew what came next, for the Silver Millennium began shortly after Princess Mina's birth. When she was but fourteen, she met a young man, who was nothing but a poor foot soldier, but he captivated her nonetheless. They were hopelessly in love, and the whole kingdom knew it. But on the night Venus celebrated the anniversary of their alliance with the Moon Kingdom, their world was shattered forever. The buildings crumbled around them, and people ran for their lives. In the end, only their makeshift clan remained. Days and nights passed in endless circles as the planet sat in silence, waiting for the day when the princess they sent into the future would finally awaken.

As the clan settled down for the night, Derek looked up at the stars. Secretly, he imagined himself as the valiant knight or the soldier that captured the princess's heart, and he envied them. If a lowly commoner could win such a beautiful prize, surely he could too. Some day, he vowed, he would get his own happily ever after.

Derek scoffed, his thoughts returning to the present.

Like that will ever happen he thought disgustedly. He was deemed an alien, an outcast, and any hope of a happy ending died the day he was born. In the years before the Neo-Silver Millennium, he had aged fourteen years over the course of eight due to hardships within the clan. Food was scarce, and tension was running high. As a result, his body changed without his consent, and it drove him to seek out trouble. Only Rose kept him from doing something he would regret. Even at thirteen, she carried all the wisdom of someone twice her age, and she became his moral compass during those confusing times. Now, she finally reached the age of nineteen, and would look so for the rest of her life. Zeke, bless his heart, had perished during the attack of the Neo-Silver Millennium, and it fell upon Derek to watch over their group. He didn't ask for this burden. Hell, he didn't ask for any of this! No one asked him if he wanted to be orphaned at four years old and have to beg and scramble just to put food on the table. It seemed the only thing that saved them from starving to death was his knack for making jewelry. He was nothing if not an expert craftsman. Upon discovering his new talent, he set to work on selling his wares in the local market, and that was how he made a living, if a meager one. Propelled by his anger once again, he found that he had stridden a good twenty paces along the beach, and he sighed as he waited for Rose to catch up. Would he ever learn?

"Sorry," he apologized when she reached him. "I don't know why you put up with me, with all my issues and everything."

"Because," she told him, placing a hand on his broad shoulder, "we're all each other has. If I've learned anything over the time I've known you, it's that deep down, under that tough-guy exterior, you've got a noble heart. Just like the prince you were named after."

A smile curled his lips at the memory. They were just children, wandering the ruins of the fallen palace. Up until that point, Derek had no name, for he was found on the beach at four years old, with no memory of who he was or how he had gotten there. Upon finding the library, Rose had a mission—to find a name for the boy, a name he could be proud of. Among the weathered volumes, they found such a one. It was a tale of an orphaned boy, and though he was poor, he was kind and thoughtful to those around him, and it so happened that he was actually a prince, and he never knew it. He became a great hero among his people, slaying dragons and other mythical beasts, and fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the land. Rose saw how her friend's eyes lit as she read the story to him. The hero's name was Derek, and so it was decided that he would claim that name for his own, hoping to one day posses those same qualities.

"Some hero I'm turning out to be," he muttered, looking down at his callused hands. "I can't even control my temper for half a second. Maybe we picked the wrong name after all."

Rose shook her head. "You're a hero to me," she confessed. When he looked sharply at her, she blushed. "What I mean is, you're a hero to all of us. The younger ones look up to you, though you don't see it all the time. You could set an example for them, a good example; in the way you treat people. Instead of being angry and bitter, look for ways to make the world better."

Derek made a face, unsure of himself. "That's a lot of pressure," he told her. A crooked grin lit his face. "But I'll try."

Rose smiled in return. "See?" she said as she locked arms with him. "You're becoming more like the hero every day. Who knows, maybe you'll even be a prince one day!"

With that she bent swiftly and splashed him, breaking into a run when he flinched. Derek laughed as he took off after her.

"Fat chance!"

Rose giggled, and as the sun sank beyond the horizon, they chased each other all the way home.