Centuries had passed since a pathetic Fae Warrior had trapped her in the woods, limiting her power. Incapable of moving somewhere else. The days of feeding into maidens younghood to keep herself terribly beautiful, now shattered into a sweet memory. A promised vengeance at the Weaver´s mind formed and rotted into her soul.
Until the day she perceived someone's scent invading her territory. A suave fragrance of peaches and another of rotting meat.
The second vanished as it entered. The sweet scent of a child stayed. It was dinner time.
At the edge of the forest she heard the child's cry, a high fae. With inherent power bursting from it, her. She held the baby in her arms, with nothing but a crushing desire to end her life.
Then the baby laughed. Someone had taken well care in assuring she died, by the freezing temperatures or by the Weavers hand. The best revenge was to let the girl live. To have an ally she could form, someone who could go outside and free her so the world would tremble with her power.
The years passed and the baby turned into a beautiful fae, with shiny brown hair that falled below her waist, a full body, unusual magenta eyes, bronzed skin and crimson red lips.
Stryga used her as a spy for the courts. But soon it became pretty obvious that both could do too little to worsen Prythians habitants lives, the same that had forgotten them both. So routine fell. Until the day of the bargain.
Beltaine remembered it well. Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court stepped at their door. Stryga ordered her to remain hidden, but keep her eyes open, to be her guide into her imposed darkness.
Her mother parted to war. Only then they would be free to live together outside of the cold woods. The Weaver accepted, she would be summoned in three days to battle.
She never came back. She had died in the name of fae that had tossed her aside. Beltaine´s face lost life and a resenting look sealed in her eyes.
Azriel
His shadows sensed that something odd happened in the middle. He had been there a few times, but even when the Weaver lived it felt less frightening.
A constant rain fell. The sky darkened, as if an eternal night had fallen upon the Stryga´s cabin. Someone very powerful stood inside it, someone who kept the fire alive.
He moved with the shadows into the Weaver´s home, always in silence. At the other side of the door someone moved toward him and tried to knock him off, failing miserably.
In a slight movement he had the fae against the wall. A high fae female. With a full silhouette and really long hair. Keeping her immobilized he turned her around. What he saw left him speechless. She was the most beautiful creature he ever beheld. Her magenta eyes flickering with anger, the light of a lightning reflecting on them followed by a thunder that shook the ground. He had found her. His mate.
Note: sorry if there´s any grammar or spelling mistakes, english is not my first language.
All the love, Ella.