1 Chapter 1

Chapter 1

    "Run!" He screamed my way. I ran faster, my bare feet hitting the soft grass with a rhythm, swiftly moving my arms back and forth, and feeling the wind sweep my hair away from my face. My small body moving at speeds it never should have, and I let my head turn to look behind me. My brother, also running from the large beast chasing us, the beast that was gaining ground on me every second. I ran and I ran and I ran. I ran until my feet ached and my sides felt like they were going to implode. I ran until I felt strong arms lift me into the air. I screamed. My brother screamed.

And then we laughed. My father dropped us onto the grass, both of us a giggling mess, and took off his mask.

"Next time, Amelia, you get to be the beast," My brother smiled his toothless grin at me. He has just lost his first tooth this last winter. I remember the fairy who had showed up and taken it right out of his mouth. I loved living in this enchanted land, where everything was possible.

I had just grown into my powers, everyone does when they turn 8 years old, and that meant I was now a real woman, even if I hadn't gotten much taller, or even graduated the second grade, I was looked upon differently in society, I was looked upon as mature.

There was just one slight problem, a reason we had to move from the bustling city into the quaint country, into the woods we now called home.

I had grown into more than one power.

Most people grow into one. Telekinesis, hydrokinesis, pyrokinesis, photokinesis, cyrokinesis, all those kinesis words. My dad, he had hydrokinesis,ability to control water, while my mother was pyrokinesis, ability to control fire.

However, I had grown into every kinesis. Earth, Fire, Ice, Water, Gravitational, Magnetic, Thoughts, you name it. I had it. I can manipulate the world to my will.

For my own safety, we left. Because the day of my trials, my tests of kinesis, where I had proven my ability to do it all, the king had come. He had tried to persuade my parents to give his son my hand in marriage. His eight year old son.Because of my  power. He said I was great for the kingdom, and that I needed to be trained right away. He said I was special. But he was lying. We knew he just wanted to abuse my power. I was sacred. I was unheard of. And my father said that made me dangerous. Not to others, not to anyone else. But to myself. I provided something to the world, something anyone would seek to have. Ultimate control. Ultimate power.

His son had the opposite problem, he hadn't grown into a single power in this universe, he was dwarfed, stuck in an age of powerless abilities.

He wanted to abuse my power, use it for his son. It wasn't safe for me in the city. So we left. We came out here, just outside the king's borders. Here we were safe. No one knew where we were. No friends, no family. It just wasn't safe to tell a soul. Out here, we learned to control my abilities. Out here, I was safe from all those who wished to control me. Who wished to harness my power through the bond of a ring.

In our land, a ring provides the most sacred, and the strongest, bond. It binds a person to another person, and no power on Earth can break it. That is why when you get married, you are married for life. The ring refuses to ever leave the holders finger, which is why the king wanted so desperately for me to marry his son. Once his son had been bound to me, I was stuck. My power would be transferred to the ring. Holding me to his son for all eternity, never to be taken off. Without my power I would die. And surely the king would try and remove my ring, strip me of who I am, kill me, for the power possessed in my ring.

I had just turned 9 years old, and I was already a fugitive. I had learned the fear of living long before I ever learned the sweetness of loving.

I had been taught my whole life the power of a ring, but never had I known one could be killed for such a small item. A ring provides a gap in our world, the power and the powerless. The ring absorbs all our power, strips it from our body and harnesses it inside itself. We do not feel when exactly the ring decides to let go. But that is why we all perish. One day, a ring on your finger decides it is no longer with you, and it expels are powers into the world, and into a small child who has just turned 8 years old, passing on what we were, and killing us in the process. A ring will never leave, not until it is ready, or until it is forced off. No one knows what happens once the ring is forced off your finger, because no one has ever had that happen.

Once the placer of the ring dies, you are free to remarry, free to do whatever you wish, for the ring no longer is binding you to the other, it is just bound to you. You may never take off the ring though. The ring always stays bound to you, until death do you part.

Living here is beautiful. My mother hates it, so she says at least. Because it isn't the city, she doesn't have her friends, her book club. But her smile is better here, and ehr face shows that the burden of city life seems to have been lifted. My father, he loves it. He has always have been one with nature. He loves the woods, the fresh stream, and being away from all the chaos of our fairytale world.

Fairy Tales, something I have never completely comprehended, in our books, the Other uses the word fairytale to describe a place of enormous possibility. A place where the impossible, at least to them happens. Those poor, hapless Others don't even know that there is such a place. A place beyond their ability to comprehend. A place even the most daring of dreamers in that Other can't possibly picture. A place I call home. I have never understood the way the Other so easily dismisses us, as if we are the fake in this world, we are the ones who are fantasy. I love the word fantasy. Because, where I come from, fantasy is possible. Fantasy is our reality. The Other, the places in the storybooks on a planet called Earth, there reality is based on logic. Here, reality is based on dreams.

Sorry for that rambling, a little background on my knowledge is good. Just warning you, this book my skip around from thought to thought, because it is my biography, I shall take it where I want. Let's start from the beginning.

My name is Raven Owens. I was 19 years of age, 10 years past where I started this story, when my freedom was taken. This is my fairytale.

Oh, one more thing, always remember, nothing is ever set in stone. There is always another way. Sometimes, people aren't as evil as they appear.

I spent 7 years on that farm, living my life happily, learning to live off of the land. My brother turned 8 the second year on the farm, but, unlike me, he grew into nothing. His powers had been depleted to virtually nothing, yet he still had a hint of telekinesis. My mother and father still lived as happily as they did in that city.I learned how to control my powers in a way most would kill for.

I learned how to throw objects 300 times my own size into the oblivion of space, never to come back down. I learned to be able to read the thoughts of my mother to cheat on tests as she homeschooled me. I learned how to look through books and read them without even opening the cover.  I was prepared to use my powers in any way possible. What I wasn't prepared for was for my mind to be my own enemy.

Most days I spent in my room, hiding away from the world. Reading my books, setting the world on fire within my mind, dreaming of friends, of life, of a home. A home without the fear of those who are always hunting. A place with my friends, a place without the king, without my life ending the way it had, abruptly. I had a place in my room, where I could write my own story.

I remember the cool, trickling stream that ran through our woods. I remember our cow, Belinda, and how she never produced the milk we needed. I remember Jack, the boy who grew a beanstalk on the next farm over, and brought down tons of gold. I remember hearing of the prince continuous search for the girl his father had deemed to be his bride. On my 15th birthday, he had sent out search parties for me. He would stop at nothing to gain the power I had. I knew that.  I remember hearing of the new queen, the girl who ran from the ball. And I remember what it felt like, to be good. To be free. To be sweet, loving, and innocent enough to see the good left in this world, to see the citizens of our universe as good people.

I am not like that now.

One day, I had decided to go out to the stream, go fishing for some cod, and maybe skip a few rocks. Get lost in nature so I wouldn't get lost in my head. Instead of fishing with a pole, I would just take a bucket and my own hands. This way, I could get lost in what I was doing much easier than I had before. My mother had told me to stop, that it was not the proper way a girl of 15 handles her emotions. That instead I should knit or crochet. I should write and make dresses. But never should I fish. I never listened to her. I went to my room, climbed out the window, and  I went to the stream and let the cool water gather over my bare feet. I felt the wind blow my hair and heard the birds chirping all around me.

I felt the magic of the fairies enticing me. Begging me to go further in the woods and see this power for myself. I felt the twitch of an urge to make a beautiful fountain out  of the water beneath me, and the slight twinge of my hands every time the water would splash.

The world was mine to manipulate, and the worst part was that there was a part of my mind that loved that. Loved that I could manipulate anything and anyone without even so much as blinking. I just had to think.

Part of me wanted to abuse this power, to overthrow our wretched king and make the land fair once again. No more classes based on power, just equality. But my mind never allowed that to happen.

There was this part of me that did everything good, the one that felt guilty, the one that did things right.

It's gone now.

I giggled softly when I saw a bird fly in front of my face. People should call me crazy, for my obsession with the woodland creatures, but they are just so amazing.I reached out my hand to offer the bird a perch, which it gracefully accepted. I twirled and I twirled around in the water, laughing and dancing away the pain my mind had been bringing me.

I danced and I danced. The water moved with me, synchronized to my every movement. I didn't even realise I was manipulating the water. The water formed a person, a male, who started dancing with me. Music played softly in the background, music I had created, and the dance movements were perfect to the waltz.

We danced and we danced, my once plain outfit of trousers and t-shirt had turned into a beautiful dress, a sweetheart neckline, and made of fire. The man, who's outfit had once been as plain and simple as mine, had now since turned to a fire tux, contrasting his blue, watery skin. We danced in that stream, my mind completely void of the terrible thoughts that had once been crowding it. Then we moved onto land, and his pale blue skin changed to a bright green, the colour of the grass beneath our feet. His tux changed to flowers, as did my dress, and every step I took flowers sprouted from the ground. Beautiful flowers. All colours. The beauty of the flowers distracted me and within seconds our once graceful movements had failed. I tripped and fell, and he disappeared. I had lost my control over the ground for a minute, and everything went back to normal.I tried to save him but he disappeared into the night. The wind taking away the last remains of him.  The amazing dance was over, and all the was left were the beautiful flowers that decorated the once barren grassland. I stood up and shook the dirt off of my outfit, which had changed back to the original plain shirt and trousers, and started off on my walk home, a skip in my step as I danced the whole way, dancing away the night, trying to shake off the pain that was being induced by losing him, which I didn't know why it hurt so much. I had created him. But I also had lost him. The pain turned into anger.

I stopped for only a moment to pick some flowers to take home to my mother, I picked her favourites, and then started walking home again. Hoping to rid myself of the anger consuming away at my body. But this time, something happened. Something that had never happened before. Every step I took scorched the land, turning it black as ash, and my body became fire, every step I took, running to get away from the terror I had just unleashed, scorched more and more of the land. I ran home, screaming to my mother. Begging her to make it stop, because I had done so much damage to the beautiful land. My father ran to put it out, but nothing would stop the burning flames, and the flames unfolded in front of my big blue eyes, which were welling with tears, as I watched our beautiful forest burn down. My powers were controlling me, and I was ruining everything. The sadness melted into pride as a twisted smile appeared on my face, smiling at the fire and all its evil. As if watching everything I had of my childhood, of my life, burn away was something that filled me with joy, satisfied my bloodthirst for revenge caused by the anger of the man. Then the screams came, the screams of anguish filled my ears, but the sound did not deafen me as it once had. Instead it only made me stronger. The room melted away beneath my feet, and I was alone again, mourning the loss of the unknown stranger, crying, and I looked down and saw the beautiful dress I had on, strikingly different than the beautiful, simplistic flower dress that had once enclosed my body. This one was fancy, covering me with lace and sparkles, and it was a royal purple. I looked up into a mirror, and a Crown sat upon my head. I smiled an evil smile and felt myself turn to fire, the anger inside me taking full control, the ring on my hand burning into the skin.

Then, I woke up.

The dream terrified me. I wondered if I was truly destined to be in control, to be as vengeful as dream me was. To be of fire, to lose my life, to be bound to someone who let me do this. My ring, I slowly touched my hand on my ring finger, feeling the burning skin turn cool at my touch, I wondered how real this dream was. The ring was no longer there, but instead it was conjured in my mind, creating

I looked around the room, water was splashed against my walls and my bedding and walls, despite being fireproof, were scorched black. A trail of ash from my desk was following to  my hand. The ceiling was streaked with ash and embers, slowly eating away at our roof, to which i fixed by using water and ice to repair it and create it back to as good as new. I reconstructed the desk in my mind, and watched as everything I thought happened to the desk.

The ceiling I washed, the walls I scrubbed, and everything I did to clean my room was easily done in my head, sitting on the edge of my bed. My head had the hurt to it, the one when you have a really intense dream and you don't know reality and dream line anymore. My world seemed to blur with the next, and I spent nearly all day trapped inside this haze, scared one day my dream may come true. Scared that someday, like everyone else, I would meet my fate, and I wouldn't like it.

None of us knew our fates, not a single one, but our fates would come in glimpses, in dreams, or in our powers as we progressed through life. Every dream was to be kept seriously, and kept written in a journal. One might then be able to find the corresponding parts of their dreams, find the trend, and dig out the truth, the meaning, behind who they were to become. The fear of adding up to nothing along with the fear with being something horrible terrifies young adults as they progress their powers, knowing that soon their dreams will reveal what those powers entail. People learning they were meant to be evil was rare, but when it was decided, it was decided. Many embraced their fate as evil, fully understanding the costs. Others secluded themselves. Hid away from society, protecting them from who they were meant to be. Fear encased my body as i watched the oen write down my dream, my mind going through it again and again.

The man of water, of earth, and of fire. All elements  so easily destroyed by the terribleness of the human race. How I wanted to kiss him, how he made my heart flutter as we dance. His hands cool like mine, he was like me. He was made of the same elements that I so easily controlled. His thoughts so easily read, but in the dream he had none. The sense of belonging in his arms. The pain when he died, disappearing as the human race destroyed his elements, destroyed him. The way the innocence disappeared as I tried to pretend I was okay. The fire of burning embers as I walked, the scorched earth beneath my feet.The burning ring.

I looked over at my now recreated desk, and the ring that had been in my dream, was sitting perfectly on the desk. I was pulled by it, drawn to it, my finger ached to have it on. But I knew the power of this ring, the ring that burned my hand. It harnessed who I was, and burned itself into my skin, releasing its imprint on my life. I took the ring, wrapped my hand around it, and wondered how something how strong that power must be to hold it against me. I held it, still aching to have it against my hand, wrapped around my finger. Instead, I grabbed a small chain necklace, and slipped the ring on it. Putting it over my head, I held it close as it was wrapped against my neck, the feeling of the burning ring against my chest, the need to harness my power so strong I almost did it. But I knew those who bind themselves to themselves are destined for nothing but destruction. Binding to oneself brings a sense of arrogance, and in every story ever told, the binding of oneself is the first step to evil. Instead, this ring would be the one I ask to be given one day, binding me eternally to whoever places it on my finger.

I walked out of my room, hoping I hadn't scorched any more of the house with my wild dream. I could have sworn I had told my mother I was going to the stream, I could have sworn it was real. I walked out to see my mother doing the dishes, scrubbing away at the plates, a look of determination filling her face.

I had always wondered when I saw my mother like this, if this would be how I remembered her The sweet scent of lavender which was her scent filling the room as she worked tirelessly to et everything clean. She did that so often, it felt like I would always remember her that way. The way her fiery red  hair, slowly turning gray would shape her face, the way her eyes would squint, almost covering up their purple, and the way she wouldn't speak, or say a word, till everything was done. The worker, the silent type, the strict parent.

My father I knew I would remember in a different way. The smell of fresh cut wood, his calming bluish black hair and warm green eyes. His laughter filling the room in its bellowing way. Carefree of any consequence. He was inviting, you almost had to hug him whenever you saw him.

Now that I have successfully described how I remember both of my parents to this day, I shall give you a lasting impression of me.

My hair is a is a warm orange-red, like a sunny day, my eyes are blue with freckled brown dots in them, my face is a heart-shape, and of course I smell like the woods on a sunny day. I am cold and calculating now, but used to be carefree like my father. It is funny how things can change. Isn't it?

My brother I won't remember for his sight or his smell, but rather his laughter, the way he smiles and makes everything better, he doesn't seem to see the true nature of the world.

I hope I'll never forget my family, just as I know they will never forget me.

My dad always tells me, continue on with life, become who you want to be, but never forget who you have been.

Despite constant wish to, I can never forget who I used to be, how naive I was to the world. I can't forget, which is why you are getting this story now. I can't forget the smell of the fresh grass, the smell of the woods I so eagerly called home. They beckoned me, the inner me. I wish they still stood, I would stay with them, live there, and rule out my days from the comfort of my own world. The smell of fresh pine, I can still feel it linger behind me. A shadow of a past life the ghost of me The ghost of a family,  of what was supposed to be, always there, following behind me. I can never work up the courage to look back.

I walk out to the stream, longing to feel its cool water against my feet, to feel it wash away the dream of last night, to cleanse me of my own thoughts. I step into the cool water and wonder if I could create a man out of the water. My mind concentrated on the sound of the waves, splashing together as they formed into a shape. I had almost finished when someone, or something, bumped into me from the woods. I spun around, my outfit a few seconds behind me. But no one was there. I stared into the darkness of the trees, lit aglow by the burning sun rays. I heard a faint whisper, my name being called out from the depths of the woods, my body followed in suit, in a trance of need. I had no control over my own body, and I found myself following the name, listening intently for the sound. I walked deeper and deeper into the woods, until I stumbled upon a clearing. The were no trees here, which was odd, as the forest ws deep for miles, and there was no sign of a trail, or even stumps.  I witnessed the barren ground, staring at it, wondering why it was so barren. I heard the chattering of woodland animals all around me.

I didn't know someone was watching me.

I touched the center of the circle, softly digging my fingers into the coarse dirt, and the most marvelous thing happened. A great, big, aged willow tree sprouted from the ground, taking me with it. I felt alive as I grew with the tree, standing on one of its branches, and feeling myself be taken high above the world, over every tree. I didn't let go of the leaf I had been holding onto until I could see the forest, staring for miles and miles, only then did I let the tree stop growing upward. I took in the smell of the fresh, crisp air. I took in the sights of thousands of trees, all itogether a sea of green.

But then, I saw something most troubling out in the distance. Clouds of smoke, most likely from fires being put out, and I had a terrible thought.

Had they come for me? No of course not they don't know where you are. But there isn't a neighbor for million of miles, and even if there was, no neighbor fire could put out that much smoke. It may be a forest fire, but isn't there usually more flames for a forest fire.

THe fear took over me so much, that the tree I grew began to shake, the more anxious I felt, the harder it shook. Like wheat in the wind. I was thrown to Earth by the violent shaking of the tree, but something caught my fall.

"Woah there, you need to be more careful with your magic, you could get hurt if I wasn't here," A voice said from above me, in which I instinctively looked up at the man whose arms had caught me in my fall.

I felt embarrassed, and the flow of blood to my cheeks made them instantly red. I looked up into his eyes, they were warm green-yellow, with specks of brown flaked it. I tore my eyes away from his and muttered out a silent thanks.

"Thanks for catching me," it came out in a voice just above a whisper, and I started to jump out of his arms. But his hand caught mine.

"You know? I saw what you did there, that tree. You did a marvelous job. Though you need to learn how to handle your emotions, because one day you'll fall and I won't be here to catch you. What's your name, sweetheart?" He said, winking at me. His voice flirtaious as he took his cap off.

I stared into his eyes, trying to not let him see how he makes me think. "Raven. Raven Owens," I muttered, looking away again.

He seemed to flash a small smile before saying "Raven huh? That is an interesting name. My name's Peter, nothing interesting about that. Just plain all Peter. Any how whatcha doin in this part f the woods?" The man, Peter, asked me, raising an eyebrow and putting his hat back on. He looked just like Peter Pan, the old story of a boy who never grew old, complete with red hair, green cap, and brown outfit. He even had a feather sticking out of his cap, red of course.

"Peter? Like Peter Pan?" I inquired, completely ignoring his previous question.

"Nope, that's my Pa. I'm Peter Pan Jr," I looked at him in disbelief when he said that.

"Relax. I am joking. Name's Peter Nicholas Longhood, but I prefer being called Nic. I'm a hunter out here, and my Pa disappeared when I was just 7 years old, so he could be Peter Pan.  So your names Raven, I'm gonna call you Ravy. How old are you?" He looked me up and down, causing me to get butterflies in my stomach.

"Fifteen…" I muttered slowly, trying to take in the new name.

"I'm sixteen. Not too far apart. So, Ravy, you never answered my question, what brings you here?" He continued looking at me and I found myself looking back, he was just so mesmerizing.

"I- I came here because I heard someone c-calling me. A w-whisper in the wind…" I stuttered as his gaze froze me in place. Suddenly, he looked away, as if he had never even been looking at me in the first place. He lied down on the grass, and took in the sun.

"Hate to break it to you, Ravy, but I am the only one out here for miles, I live in a cabin back a ways, with my dog. Yes, I am alone out here, my Ma died just last year. But, don't worry about me, I make it through. What about you, Ravy, where do you live?" Nic asked me, looking to his side and up to see me.

"I live- I live a few miles back, a clearing in the woods. I I don't know how far back, just that it is a few miles. Next to a stream," I mutter, pointing in the direction from which I came into the clearing. He nodded and patted the ground next to him, gesturing for me to sit down.

I heard my mother call from me, because I have that super power hearing. "I-I have got to go," I said, before running off in the direction of my home.

I heard him say he will be there tomorrow, in case I wanted to come back. I smiled to myself, running home. I splash into the stream as I bolt into the house, the door slamming shut behind me, and the butterflies in my stomach flapping their wings so fast, I feel nauseous. My cheeks are a flaming red, and I am smiling, out of breath, and daydreaming already. I smile, eat my dinner, and ignore the probing questions of my family, excited to get to bed to go back tomorrow.

The next month flies by, full of conversations, dreams, the woods, and learning new things about one and another. Full of dreams, and jokes, and games. It was a great month. The greatest of my life.

One day, we were talking in the field, and just playing around. He lied down on the grass, as he had done many times before,  and I took my seat next to him and looked up at the clear sky. He started to whisper, "You know Ravy? I grew into a power myself, though it isn't much. I love the way the sky changes, I guess that's why I got my power. Do you ever wonder how they choose a power for us? I know they say that it is when someone dies within minutes of your birth, you get their power, bu I don't think that is true. Do you, Ravy? I think they are trying to rationalize why things like that happen, why some are chosen for a certain task. And some don't ever get their power. I mean, I control the sky. The way it moves, and if I wanted, I could throw the whole Earth off balance, but I don't. It is a pretty useless power. What's yours, Ravy?" His voice never came above a low whisper, an dI continued to watch the sky. I looked at his eyes, the way they danced watching the clouds in the sky.

I whispered softly, so soft he couldn't even hear what I said, "I control the world, Nic."

He looked up at me, and stared at me with his big, green eyes. I had jokingly called him before the Overgrown Peter Pan of the woods, and nothing was more true in this moment. He was a boy at heart, his eyes wide with the fairytales of life, and the true belief and innocence that filled them made my heart beat, like a hammer against the wool of my dress. The world soon was covered in a blanket of white. The snow started falling, and I looked him dead in the eyes, and noticed he had changed the weather. Changed the patterns of the sky. Time seemed to freeze as we got the snow in our hair. He leaned closer to me, and reached his hand up to touch my face.

He softly touched my cheek and my eyes closed instinctively as a response.