Fae's (first person) POV

Falling. Falling. That is the first thing I am aware of. Falling.

Then I hear a roar. Like a thousand trains out of control, barreling towards me. And then I feel the water. So much water. It's everywhere.

Falling. Roaring noise. Water everywhere.

I am scared.

I fall for what seems like an eternity. I can't breathe. I can't move. Then I stop falling as I hit something solid. Something hard, and sharp.

Then, then the pain hits. A horrible pain shoots up my back like lightning. It spreads through my body. It's like I'm being split in half. The water, the roar, is everywhere. It is pressing down on me. I can't breathe. I can't move. It's too much. I'm not going to make it. I'm going to die.

And yet strangely, I'm okay with that. I have the sense that I just did something good. Something worth dying for.

These are my thoughts as the pain spreads. These are my thoughts as I fade into darkness.

I have done something worth dying for, so it is okay to die. Though I would love to know what I did that was so good.

Then everything is black. Everything is dark. I'm scared again.

And then there is a light. A huge white circle in the sky. It makes the darkness go away.

Wait, I'm dead. How can I see that circle- what is it called, oh yeah, the Moon- in the sky? For that matter, how can I see the sky?

I'm rising. No, I'm floating, I realize. I'm still under the water. But the water doesn't matter any more. The Moon, the Moon will protect me.

I keep rising. I gasp as my body breaks the surface of the water. And still I rise, my body cushioned by the Moon's rays. Then I hear a voice.

Your name is True Faith. You will help this world when all think that the world is empty of faith, for remember, good or bad, there is always Faith.

I am floated over to the bank, and gently set down on my feet. I wobble a bit, like a baby deer trying to stand up for the first time. When I find my balance, I straighten, and look at the Moon. "It was you speaking to me, wasn't it?" I say, finding my voice for the first time. The Moon seems to glow brighter for a second, as if in confirmation. I probably imagined it, I think.

I sigh, and look around, taking in my surroundings. The water that I came out of is a river. Barely a ripple disturbs its motionless surface. I walk over to the edge and look into the water.

I stare at the young girl that looks up at me from the depths. She looks to be around 12, maybe 13, years old. "Hello," I say as I wave, wanting to appear friendly. The girl does the same thing at the exact same moment as I do. I giggle, and so does she. I gasp as another realization hits me. Wait, that's me! That's my reflection! I laugh at my silliness before studying myself in the river.

I am pretty, if not very remarkable. I suspect that I am a few inches below average height and a little underweight. I have very light brown hair with dark blond highlights that falls to just above my shoulder blades in loose wavy ringlets. I have a round nose that looks a little too big for my face and slightly chubby cheeks. My skin is a light tan color from many days outside. My most striking feature is my eyes. They are a beautiful gray-blue color that seems to have little flecks of green in it, and have long dark lashes.

I look down from my face to see what I am wearing. I have on a light gray-blue cloak that goes to my waist and matches my eyes. It has a hood. I pull the cloak aside to see a long sleeved light brown button-up shirt that covers up my small chest. I also wear a long crème colored skirt with a brown cloth belt to hold it up. Under the skirt I have on a pair of light brown leggings. My feet are covered by sensible dark brown shoes with matching brown stockings.

My eyes drift from the river and my reflection to its banks. On the side that I stand on there is a beautiful forest. I realize that it is autumn, for the leaves on the trees are a burst of reds, oranges, yellows, and light greens. The colors are far more muted in the Moon's soft light then they would be in the sun, but they are still a pretty sight for my darkness-weary eyes.

I look to the other side of the river, and almost gasp in shock. The right bank is as different from the left as the sun is from the Moon. Gray cliffs rise up into the sky, at least fifty meters high. As my eyes travel up the gray behemoths in wonder, something catches my attention. About thirty feet above the river, there is a cave.

I wish I could go up there, I think longingly, as my curiosity spikes. And suddenly I'm in the air, at least twenty feet above where I was standing. I let out a joyous laugh, and look back around at the cave. I want to go to that cave! I think. Suddenly I'm flying towards the cave at high speeds. My eyes widen, to fast! I realize. Slow down! I slow my assent and land on a small ledge out side of the cave. I stumble into the cave laughing again. This is the most fun I've ever had, I'm sure of it! Then I frown, the laugh I had been about to release dying in my throat. "Am I sure of it?" I whisper to my self. "I can't remember."

My shoulders droop as reality hits me. I sit down heavily on a rock and stare into space. I-I don't know. I can't remember! I let out a sob.

"Oh, no you don't. You do know! The Moon just told you! You are True Faith, and you're going to help the world!" I say to my self fiercely. Then I sigh. "The only thing you don't know is how, or when."

I think for a moment. "Hmmm, True Faith. That's a bit long. I think that I'll go by my last name, Faith." Then I stand up to have a look around the cave I had flown up to see.

As I stand up, something bumps my leg. I look down to see a long crème colored stick hooked through a loop in my belt. I take it off to have a better look at it. It is heavy, a lot heavier than I expected by looking at it. It's about a foot long, maybe a little longer and shaped like a cylinder. At one end it is a small bit thicker than at the other end. Perhaps about 2 ½ inches wide at the thick end. The smaller end is about 2 inches wide, and has a hook that attaches to my belt. A light brown leather grip also covers the thin end until about 5 inches the stick.

As I study it, I wonder what it is called. I shrug, and grab the leather grip, holding it out in front of me. Suddenly I feel a jolt of pure power run through me as a name for the stick pops into my head. A baton. I shriek in surprise and drop the newly named baton, shooting straight up into the air so fast that I hit my head on the ceiling of the cave. I drop down and land hard on the rock I had been sitting on a few moments before. As I rub my head, I stare at the baton on the floor. Hesitantly, I reach out and pick it up by the grip again. Another bolt of power runs through me, but not as violently as the first. I gasp before laughing in pure joy. The flow of power soon fades into a comfortable buzz in the back of my head. The weapon just feels right in my hand, balanced.

I look around at the cave I am standing in. It is much deeper than I had thought, going on for a few meters before it became to dark for me to see. I walk forward a few feet before stopping as the light from the Moon outside faded. I shiver, remembering the darkness that I had awoken from.

I wish I had some light, I think. As soon as I have thought this, the baton I still clutch in my hand starts to glow. As the light grows brighter, I begin to walk forward.

Then I stop, my mouth agape. The tunnel has opened up into a huge underground cavern. The ceiling has to be at least twenty meters above me. The walls of the cavern are made of layers of differently colored rocks, like the layers of cakes. Then, amazingly, almost as if in response to my glowing baton, some of the stones in the cavern also begin to glow. It lights up the cavern even brighter.

Wow, this place is amazing, I think. I yawn, suddenly realizing how tired I am. I fly up to a large nearby shelf of reddish rock. I clip my baton back to my belt, feeling for some reason that I should never take it off. The cave is strangely warm, so I take off my cloak. I then fold it up to use as a pillow.

I am almost asleep when I think of something that makes me sit bolt upright. I still don't know where I am. I tiredly slump my shoulders. It's too late at night. I think as I lie back down. I'll figure it out, first thing tomorrow. That is my last thought as I slump into the sweet land of dreams.

Darkness. There is Darkness everywhere. It's pressing down on me. I can't breathe. I can't move.

No, it's not the darkness that keeps me from breathing. It's the water. It's every where. I'm falling again. No! Not this! Anything but this again! Panicked thoughts run through my mind.

Some where in the back of my mind there is a little voice saying that this has already happened, that I am safe, asleep in the cavern. And this is all just a nightmare.

But I can't hear that voice. It is too quiet. It's overrun by thoughts of panic.

I keep falling,

And falling,

And falling.

The water and darkness are closing in.

I feel my heart racing, blood pounding through my ears.

I let out one terrified sob,

"Please, no, No,

NO!"

I bolt awake, clutching my baton so tightly that my knuckles are dead white. My head whips around, eyes wide with fear, taking in my surroundings. I am in the cave. It was a nightmare. I had been asleep.

Just like that voice at the back of my head told me. I should really listen to her more often.

I sigh, and swing my legs over the side of the rock shelf. I sit there and think. Why is my first memory of something so terrifying? Surely there must have been something before that. Surely I had been someone before that fall.

I concentrate, trying to remember. There is something, right there at the back of my mind, farther back then even the little voice. It's like there is a thick layer of dust and dirt over it. I can almost reach it. I'm so close to being able to grab it, to brush off the dust. To see who I am, who I was.

I'm so unbearably close, it's like my minds fingers are brushing the little object. Then I hear a yell outside. My concentration shatters like glass.

I gasp for air, unaware that I had been holding my breath. I'm sweating, and shaking. I look around for what ever had broken my concentration at so crucial a moment. There is nothing.

Just as I'm about to go back to reaching for the box, (that is what I have decided the object looks like) I start at something else. I am sure I heard some thing this time. I grab my cloak and sling it on, then fly out the cave mouth.

I am definitely getting better at flying. I think. And it is true. I have much more control over my motion than I did yesterday. I smile at the memory of my first, short little flight.

I come out of the cave and nearly fall out of the sky (again) at the scene before me. Instead, I zip back to the entrance to the cave and hide behind a large rock sticking out of the floor.

After a few moments, I peek around the side of the rock at the people I see. They are gathered around on the opposite bank of the river, and look like they are talking. I slowly venture out from behind the rock. Keeping low to the floor of the cave, I creep to the edge of the cliff outside of the mouth. I can see them, but I can't hear them. They seem to be waiting for some thing, or maybe someone. I desperately want to know what they are talking about.

Luckily, the sun is rising behind the cliffs, so most of the river and the cliff face are in shadow. I slowly make my way down the cliff and into the woods. As I gaze at the men, silent for the moment, something catches my eye. I look at it. I gasp in awe. "It" is a beautiful yellow and orange leaf. I look around me at the rest of the trees and sigh in wonder. I had been right last night when I had suspected that the foliage would look even better in sunlight than in moonlight.

One of the men sighs sadly, drawing my attention back to the group. For the first time, I really look at them, studying them. There are about fifteen of them, maybe more. Some are dressed in warm cloaks like mine, with neat breeches, stockings, and shoes.

Others are not dressed so nicely. Shoddy patching jobs, torn cloaks and jackets, worn out shirts and stockings. One of them, a boy who couldn't be more than 16, had no shoes or stockings at all.

All of them shiver in the chilly morning air. Faces forlorn, they stare at their feet, barely saying a word to each other. One young man in particular catches my eye.

He stands apart from the group, staring at the river only a few feet below him. He looks to be around 18, maybe 19 years old. He has light brown hair, light enough to be mistaken as blond. His outfit is some of them better cared for clothing, with a warm brown jacket, blue pants, and short stockings with brown shoes. This is all I can see of him, as his back is turned toward me. But I want to see more. I feel a connection with the boy, as if I know him. I know that if I could only see his face, I would remember something.

The other people in the group keep glancing at him, their faces full of pity. I wonder, for what seems to be the thirtieth time, who these men are. And why are they here? And why do they seem so sad?

Suddenly, I hear a shout from the woods, away from the group. It comes from the right, the side opposite the sad boy. All of the men look up, and suddenly hope flashes across their faces. The boy looks up with such hope in his eyes; I can't help but be hopeful too, even if I don't know what I'm hoping for.

I look to the woods from which the shout had come, and wait for whatever it is to emerge.

Another group of men, about 10 of them, come out of the woods. They look weary, and downcast. The boy runs over to the man leading the small group. He is tall, with light brown hair the same shade as the boy's. He too is familiar. The boy looks up at him, and I can feel the hope radiating from him.

Tears well up in the man's eyes, and he gives a slight shake of the head. It was as if that shake held all the answers in the world.

The whole group seemed to deflate, as if defeated.

The boy's shoulders slump as he stares at the ground. The man puts a hand on the boy's shoulder. As if the touch was an invitation, the boy collapses into the man with a sob. Their shoulders shake in unison as they cry.

I sigh quietly. They had not found what they were looking for, whatever it is.

A/N: Hi! This is my first fan fiction. Ever. So I don't really know what I'm doing. There will be no OC slash anyone. Yet. There might, however, be some slash involving the original RotG characters. Any reviews and/or constructive criticism is welcome. Flames will be used as Manny intended. To roast Trolls, cook naysayers, and make Smores. Because Smores are delicious. R&R please!

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!