Prologue

In the 23rd century, humanity produced a creature designed as a weapon with exceptional talents and a unique appearance... one that would frighten foes.

We are known as fae and we have abilities, different coloured eyes, and some of us even have wings. But it's our ears that set us apart from other animals especially from Humans. Our ears are different Coloured: blue, purple, red, and black, and the hues corresponded to distinct powers.

Blues, like me, had wings, reds could control fire, purple could see through objects and read minds, but black was the most powerful, they had the capacity to lift large things of any size and throw them at the exact target no matter how far they are…

We grew and began to develop, struggling for our rights as time passed. I know we were created to defend humans, but we ended up becoming a part of civilization and getting along well with some of them. But some, on the other hand, would devise methods to harm us or have us jailed.

Being a Fae in human territory was a curse. All my life living among these awful creatures made me hate myself more and more, the way they glared at us made us feel like we didn't belong.

Soon after a solid five to ten years of peaceful coexistence, a fight broke out between humans and fae's over a slice of bread....

When the humans discovered that one of our kind had stolen a little bit to feed her offspring, they forcibly took her out and severed her wings. They punished her by ripping her wings, followed by the unfathomable.... They removed her ears since fae's ears represent their identity. Without them, fae's lose their powers and transform into humans, not to mention their life span shortens.

This was the line they stepped over. The sentence that triggered the conflict. It took two months for a blue-eared fairy to convince all of the world's presidents to agree that fae's would relocate to an isolated island and that as long as they did not leave that island, there would be peace.

Don't get me wrong, not all people were nasty; Mr. and Mrs. Millers, for example, shielded us and provided us with sanctuary throughout the war, and they will always hold a special place in my heart.

I was six years old when the war began, yet I remember every detail....

Now that I'm 17, the island where we sought sanctuary has become our permanent home. "ZAGOROTH" is what we call it.