Okay, I just now noticed some errors in the first chapter. So here they are, as originally intended:
The smile dropped off his face as he noticed that the scar still remained. He scowled.
"Wizards," he spat in disgust, "the only creatures who would do such a thing to a , you survived. Perhaps it was written in the stars that you should be different, from the moment you were created."
His skin was pale white. His hair was a blond mane, falling about his shoulders.
Thosar skimmed through the passage, absorbing the main points that the words danced around. He closed the book, glowering at its cover. Even the thickest creature that read it could discern that the author clearly believed that faeries were superior to all other beings.
It was true, their history had been relatively peaceful, in comparison to those of other species. There had been no bloody wars over power, no times of death in high numbers.
But the faeries had their faults just as well. They turned a blind eye to any troubles other than their own, shunned anything different from what they were used to. Like him, for example.
Look at the house elves. Distant cousins of theirs, yet they had stood by and watched as they were enslaved by wizards.
The faeries lived far away from any other species, for fear that should they mingle with others of different kind, they should suddenly become bloodthirsty mongrels, out to kill all who crossed their path.
"Having difficulty concentrating?" his Master spoke from behind him, causing him to start.
"I apologize, Master," he muttered to the book in front of him," some of the ideas in the book...disturb me."
Master's face hardened slightly, then returned to its blank mask. "Continue reading."
He would always stand a ways apart from the others. From the scar on his forehead, to his never-changing eyes, to his wings,to his beliefs, he was not truly one of them, a fact that a few set out to make obvious to him. He had no allies other than Lafethal, who he privately believed befriended him merely out of pity. Eifiten, in particular, went out of his way to isolate him.
When he was taught magic, he progressed far faster than the others, yet he trailed behind in sword-craft. The only weapon he truly excelled with was the bow, a tool regarded as useless.
The pegasi loved him. One, in particular, the oldest of the herd, was near always by his side, protectively watching. It was disconcerting.
He had known there was a secret concerning him, a secret he nor anyone else knew.
Yet he never would have guessed it when it came out in the form of one wizard.
To describe the Eternal City is a hopeless quest, for the faerie were astounding architects.
What could be said? In the center of the city there stood three huge buildings. The library, the Council Hall, and the Exhibit. The library held massive amounts of literature, all in different languages. The Council Hall, scarcely ever used nowadays, was used whenever a problem arose that the Council was required to solve.
The faeries loved art. Mosaics, sculptures, paintings, drawings, anything that held a trace of beauty and elegance in it, the faeries adored it. It was in the Exhibit that the masterpieces collected over the years were stored, displayed for all to observe.
Outside of these three buildings, large trees clustered close together. In these, amazingly, the faeries lived. The trees, with trunks the as wide as five men extending their arms, form a house above, the wood stretching out to form several rooms in each.
It was said, long ago, that faeries were able to shape plants to their will with their voices. No-one can do such a feat now, but all the faeries live in the remains, and there are still many empty houses.
The wizard appeared suddenly outside their gates, humming to himself as the guards questioned him.
Dumbledore, he said his name was.
"Your kind are not welcome here, wizard," one of the guards snarled at him
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you would accept one of our kind into your city, as one of your own?"
"We know not of what you speak," The other said, venom in his voice.
Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. "Than this should come as a surprise to you. The one you call Thosar is a wizard."
Thosar was practicing reading in Latin when two guards appeared.
"Your presence is required by the Council," they intoned.
Was it just him, or were they glaring at him?
"Pardon?" he asked. Not answering, the two roughly seized him by the shoulders and began marching him to the Council Hall. He said in an acidic tone, "Explain to me why it is that you happen to be dragging me to the Council."
The two exchanged glances. They reached the Council Hall, and shoved him in.
"We have brought Thosar," they droned and hastily exited.
The Council was seated at their usual spot. However, something had caused a stir among them, he could tell.
An old man stood before them, with a long, flowing beard and crooked nose. His robes...
Thosar felt a jolt. The man was a wizard, and yet he stood before the Council calmly.
"Good," the Council leader stated, "let us begin."
Thosar felt the need to interrupt. "Pardon me, sir, but might I ask as to why I've been called here?"
The faerie turned his eyes to him. A wicked grin flashed across his face. "Why that, Thosar, is easily answered. This wizard," he said gesturing to the old man, "claims that you're one of them."
Okay, I modeled the Eternal City off of the Elven city in Eragon. Review! Doctor Pepper