*sigh* All my other fics have caught plot-cancer and have died. So my muse decided to be nice this time and gave me an idea and blessed me with a workable PLOT! Thank the winds, rains, fires, and earth! YAY! Woohoo! *smile*

I yawned and stretched my wings, quickly tucking them back in as the early dawn sunlight caught the silver glint of my feathers, sending of little pinpoints of light in every direction. Muttering obscenities to myself, I cursed for being stupid enough to actually stretch my wings before having a chance to disguise them. Quickly settling myself down more firmly on the tree branch I opening my pouch and took out my assorted plant dyes, touching up the spots where my silver showed through. Once I had finished, I had effectively covered my wings in a mottled pattern of brown, not unlike that of a hawk. I sighed and thought of what had forced me to cover up my glorious wings, for fear of being killed at first sight.

My father had been a Stormwing, one of the first to cross the barrier and become employed --enslaved-- by the human mages that brought him here. A year before the official start of the "Immortals War" he had beaten and raped a commoner. Fortunately she had not survived the birth, and was able to preserve whatever dignity she had in death by no-one knowing of the child. The midwife, and odd woman, had no idea what I was. I simply seemed downright magical with my wide eyes and large, razor sharp, silver wings. She named me Jazika.

Once the war broke out the midwife was forced to say that she had killed the baby, while in reality she could not bear to see me hurt. By the time I reached the age of 11, the midwife had died, and I was left to fend for myself, a fugitive, completely unknown the world. It was then that I truly began to explore my immortal and human sides.

I had lost my Stormwing magic but kept immortality, lost  Stormwing feet but kept the silver wings, lost the Stormwing's desire to desecrate the dead and feed of fear but kept a Stormwing's cold-heartedness. All in all, with the possible combinations counted, I had gotten the best of both worlds. That, and I was blessed with arms. Whatever God was watching over that, I blessed it everyday. With arms I could learn the hold a weapon, and hold a weapon I did. Becoming reasonably adept with some throwing daggers and knives, I managed to scrounge up a living, keeping a low profile, never needing to eat. Thus was my life so far, always moving always running. I didn't mind, I liked this kind of life, no-one to question me, nothing to have to be responsible for, nothing holding my back or tying my down.

Finally done covering up my wings I glanced down at the packet of plant dyes, they were almost all used up, I would have to steal some more from somewhere. I sighed. Time to move onto the next town. After flying low over the trees for a day and finding no-place to grab any supplies I ruffled my feathers and settled down in an oak tree for the night. Almost immediately the dream started.

I was in a dark expanse of nothingness, with no light at all, yet I could see myself clearly as if illuminated by the noontime sun. Out of no-where a pale black haired man stepped in. I looked at him confused, until I saw his odd eyes, which seemed to stretch forever into the depths of him. Gainel, I thought. What was he doing in my dreams personally? Didn't he usually send his dream-creatures to do his bidding? He began to speak.

I would normally not be here, but because you are such a rare creature, and because a goddess whom I owe a favour has taken a liking to you, I'm here to explain things. As you know, your father was a Stormwing. What you do not know is that your species has an actual name. You are a halfblood, or a halfling, as the more familiar term. You are the first halfblood to reach your age since decades before the immortals were locked away in the Divine Realms. All the others were quickly discovered and killed within their first 3 months of existence. You on the other hand have managed to survive further than that.

"I can see that" I answered dryly.

­What you DON'T see is that you're in danger now. There is a delicate balance between you divine and mortal blood. During adolescence, with all it's changes, the balance is continually disrupted. You need to make them whole again. Usually this isn't a problem, as halflings usually know who their parents are. You on the other hand, don't. As a Stormwing Halfblood you would need a lock of your mortal parent's hair and a feather from the other. You mortal parent is dead, so you must find your father.

"He's ALIVE?" I yelled, "What are the chances of that?"

You'll simply need to cut yourself with your fathers feather to become whole with both sides again. You have until the minute before you turn 16 to do this.

"And if I don't?"

You'll die.

I stood there stunned.

That's all I can tell you. Be warned though. Because you do not have an object from your mortal parent, the feather will balance your blood, but bring you closer to a Stormwing's mentality. You won't change physically, but, your mind will change, I don't know how. That is all.

And he disappeared.

I woke up. What an odd dream. The most logical thing to believe is that it was completely true, as Gainel didn't allow an apparition of himself appear in dream and lie. That would be too confusing. As the dawn broke over, I sat up and stretched. My paint was chipping. Soon it would all become visible. Damn. An old woman suddenly appeared on the ground below me.

"Well don't just sit there! Get down here so we can have a civilized conversation!" she scolded.

I bit my tongue and complied. I had the idea that she was just about as normal as my dream was.

"You understood your dream, yes?"

I nodded, still not speaking.

"I'm that goddess you decided to dote on you. I've been so bored lately and you're such a rare occurrence I decided to help. Well, not only the Great Mother Goddess is allowed to have Chosen ones! No ridiculous purple eyes or talking cats for you though. That's a bit too obvious, though with your wings, you don't NEED anything else." she cackled. I was sure who it was now. The Graveyard Hag. What she meant by talking cats though, I had no idea. Purple eyes might have meant the Lioness, I heard somewhere that she had been picked by the Goddess. I didn't generally hear much news as I kept to myself most of the time. I cleared my throat. She looked at me.

"Can you help me? At least tell me where to look? Is he locked up in the Divine Realms, or is he still here? Better yet, is he still in Tortall?"

She answered me with a grin, "I may not make things easy for my followers, but I don't make it impossible. Your task is daunting as it is. I won't make you travel to the Divine Realms. He's here, most likely at the Scanran border with all that fighting going on."

I thanked her and she tapped her stick on the ground and disappeared. Scanran border eh? I've a loooong way to go. Because my plant dyes were completely chipping, I had to travel by night, and avoid all travelers. Taking the curvy slow path that I had to travel by, I got to the border about a week later. Tired, frustrated and scared, I camped in a tree at the edge of a forest, with the lights of some fort glimmering in the darkness ahead of me. I put on my good clothes, of which I had only one pair. It was a light brown shirt and a forest green tunic with brown breeches. All in all, it helped me blend in nicely with the forest. The clothes of course had to altered by me to fit over my wings. The tunic and shirt had neatly hemmed holes in the back and they buttoned up in under my wings so I didn't have to pull anything over the razor sharp steel. I pulled my hair back in two low far-back horsetails. Well, I wanted to look good, not like some uncivilised wild-bird-child.

Tired as I was, I didn't keep my wings in the curled up position I usually held while sleeping, my wings covering me in a blanket of metal, protecting me from arrows and other stealthy attacks. As I slept fitfully, I turned over so that I was on my front on the branch. Unbeknownst to me, my wing slipped down, spread open to full size, nearly touched the ground from the branch I lay on, glinting in the moonlight.

I awoke to the sound of freshly drawn steel. Startled I looked up, cursing, I withdrew my almost entirely silver wing. I stood up and looked at the grim faces of the men surrounding my tree. Silently I examined every one of them. Startled I glanced at one of them again. A WOMAN? Surely this was not the Lioness. From all the tales I heard of her she was a fiery red-head. This one was not. She was a cool, collected brunette. A fighter for sure, from the way she held her weapon, a large scythe type thing, with easy grace. I looked at her tunic, and the crest embroidered there. An owl. I smiled. I always liked owls. So silent and deadly, fearless and calm. It was certainly an appropriate crest for such a woman. She spoke.

"What are you? Another Scanran creation?"

A forgotten bit of my dream flitted through my head. Gainel was saying, You cannot do this alone, and as much as you hate it, you will have to reveal your purpose and identity for the allies I will send you.

Surely these were my allies. I relaxed and leaned against the tree. It was time to be utterly confusing and all-knowing. I loved this act.

"I am a no-ones slave. I am the only one of my kind and you are," I paused dramatically, "my allies."

They all frowned and held their weapons tighter.

"What do you mean?" Asked the female warily. Not afraid, just suspicious. I watched as she reached into her pouch and pulled out a headband and put it on. She raised her eyebrows.

"You're real. No illusions. Those wings are real." She stated flatly.

"Yes," I replied "And how in the blazes are you going to help me if you won't put those bloody weapons down!"

Finally one of the men couldn't hold his tongue anymore.

"Why would WE help YOU!?"

"He didn't tell you? Damn, now I'm going to have to explain." I sighed. This would have been easier if they knew what I was talking about.

"Gainel said that he would send allies to help me because I'm oh-so special and you seem to be the people he was talking about. Happy?"

"Gainel? The Dream God?"

I nodded.

"Well then, I suppose we must help. I didn't even ask how she knew it was the truth. I noticed a man dipping his hands into a pouch and nodding to her. Probably a truth spell of some kind. Keeping their weapons trained on me, the woman invited me to come into Haven and talk about this. I smiled. Good. I spread my wings, shook off and remaining chips of dye, and jumped down. Most of the men paled. I have to say, my wings were impressive.

Glittering, razor sharp silver, with each feather etched perfectly, my wingspan was about 14 feet from tip to tip. As they walked, I flew over their heads, twirling and dipping in a fantastic, if arrogant, show of my skills. The usual Stormwing lack of grace was softened by my human mother's traits, who I heard somewhere was a beautiful dancer. I swooped over the walls of the fort, generating gasps of fear from those inside. Something within me grinned. I smiled. Then blinked. I seemed to be more Stormwing-ish than I suspected. I felt the fear resonating off of the guards on duty and seemed to enjoy it. What would happen if I succeeded in finding my father? Would I succumb to my Stormwing side? I pushed that away and landed gracefully (thankfully). I then followed the woman, Lady Keladry, from the talking I overheard, into one of the buildings.

Well, hopefully this fic won't catch the plot-cancer that I continuously seem to pass onto all my fics. *hopeful grin*. I actually HAVE a plot for this story. Which is good. It better not die on me, or a CERTAIN little flying muse will find himself served on a silver platter with an apple shoved in his nattering little beak.

No matter, I'll continue it, as far as I can, hopefully to the end. Hopefully.