Real live faeries do exist, as Ella discovered. But not all of them are like Lucinda or Mandy. There's a whole slew of every-day, jump-roping, married, child-rearing faeries, and not a single pair of wings on them. The main difference between them and humans is their small stature and their magic. Coming up to the shoulder of an average human, it's pretty easy to recognize one. Although most of them do not use big magic, with the exception of Lucinda, their small magic is extremely useful for healing the sick and small chores like cleaning and cooking. Maybe they rely on it too much, for most faeries do not know how to cook and clean the conventional way. No healers existed either, for there was no need for them. But sometimes things that are taken for granted are not appreciated until they are gone.
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Maelin Dalymer shifted her feet from underneath of her, wincing as she stretched the stiff legs out in front of her. She quickly glanced back up to watch her mother.
"O, how a rose 'er bloomin'." Rosalie sang quietly to herself, crouching in front of the flowers and picking out the weeds from among the flora. A small smile graced her oval, tanned face as she worked diligently.
A small pair of blue eyes followed her reverently. Maelin loved to sit and watch her mother work in the garden for hours, even though she never knew the five-year-old was there. To Maelin, the flower garden was a sacred and magical place where anything could happen. Sometimes when her mother was in town, she would walk gingerly through the greenery, as if expecting it to reject her because she was not Rosalie. Once inside, Maelin twirled a sprig of auburn curls around her finger and tried to imitate her mother's voice, touch, and facial expressions. But it was not the same as when her mother did it. The garden seemed to glow when Rosalie touched it with her gaze.
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At the Dalymer household
"Daddy!!" Maelin screeched as she eyed her father, Reuben, sitting in his favorite green arm chair wearing reading glasses. Running as fast as her short five-year-old legs would carry her, she jumped into his lap and squeezed his middle.
"Ah, and how's my little faerie-ling? Miss me?" He boomed, smiling broadly over her curlys, but his gray eyes looked weary.
"Please don't go away again, Daddy. No one else reads to me like you do. Read me Cinderella, Da?"
He chuckled. "Maybe later, Mae-ling. Right now I think it's time for supper, or your mother will have our behinds."
"Okay." She hurried over and pulled herself onto a just-a-bit-too-tall wooden stool and looked expectantly at her mother.
"Just a minute, Mae. I've got to round up your sister. Celia, put away that book and grace this chair with your seat, please." She said in a sing-song voice, her eyes darting playfully at her twelve-year-old daughter.
"Contain your enthusiasm, Mother. I'm coming." Celia eased herself off the couch with exaggerated sluggishness. She walked over to the table and plopped down in a chair next to a beaming Maelin.
"What are you smiling about Squirt? Did you grow one-sixteenth of an inch or something?" She gently teased, nudging the curly-haired faery with her elbow.
"Daddy's home!" She exclaimed.
"Eat! The food won't keep itself warm while you two bicker. Dig in." Rosalie said, smiling at her daughters.
"So, Reuben, do you think-" but her husband was distracted by a harsh, rattling knock on their wooden door.
"I'd better see who that is." He said, wiping his hands off on his napkin, the easy smile gone from his cherub-like face. Pushing his chair out, he made his way to the entrance and pulled the door open.
"Can I help you?" He said, but backed away when he noticed the three black, hooded figures in his doorway.
"Yes. You have something of our interest." One replied ominously.
Rosalie quickly shooed Celia and Maelin into the linen closet.
"But, Mommy,-" Maelin began, but her mother closed the door.
"I know why they're here." Celia tempted, holding her sister's hand.
"What? What do they want with Daddy?" Maelin asked innocently, her hand shaking in Celia's grasp.
"Have you seen the rose that hangs on the wall in the foyer, Mae?"
"Mommy loves roses." Maelin said, a confused expression on her tiny features.
"Yeah, but this one's different. I heard Mother and Daddy talking one night, and it's a special rose. It holds all of the faery magic all over the world. I'm sure these guys want it. Some humans are greedy and want to get rich. Mother and Daddy were keeping it safe, so they can't give them the rose. They've got to defend it. You understand what I'm saying, Mae?"
But all this was taking longer to process in little Mae's head, and she scrunched up her forehead.
"But what do they want with Mother and Daddy?" Maelin asked.
"Err. Mae, just stay her. I'll be right back and I'll explain this to you later. Don't move." Celia instructed.
Peering through the slit in the door with wide, frightened eyes, Maelin watched her older sister walk over to her parents. They seemed to be angry about something Maelin didn't understand. Suddenly a cloaked figure pulled out a knife, and the situation became violent. She gasped and screamed a high-pitched yell as she watched the hooded figures stab her parents, then her sister. They all collapsed to the floor. She opened the door. All three figures glanced her way but ignored her. One grabbed the rose hanging on the wall and they all ran like lightning out the front door without a backward glance at the grief-stricken Maelin. Her face was bright red and flooded with tears as almost silent sobs escaped her lips. Slowly she tripped over to her mother's dead body and snuggled underneath her arm, and feel asleep. A pool of blood formed slowly beneath them.
**A/N: this is just the prologue. I'm trying to give some background, so you know the story. But for the rest of the story, Maelin will be around 15 or 16. Reviewers: do you like the nickname Mae or Lin better for her? Review, Review, Review!!!!**