The elders described them as angelic, with feathered wings and pearlescent hair. No one mentioned anything about fangs. But now, under the glow of the moon, I saw them gathered—hundreds of them—feasting like animals. More kept coming. Here, behind the warehouse, their once-elegant wings hung tattered like old dish rags. They had ink black eyes, that gleamed from faces gaunt and feral. I had to get out of here. If they saw me, I wouldn’t be able to outrun them—at least, not all of them. I just had to make it three more days, and then it would be over.

This was Fiesta Del Asesinato, or in English, The Feast of Murder—a spirit-driven festival that occurs once every 207 years. Luckily for me, it falls on the eve of my 13th birthday, which, for any other birthday, might not matter. But for a Witch, there is no more important day than the day she turns 13. Today, I should be granted my powers and given my family’s spellbook. Instead, I’m in a storage room, hoping these murderous little Fairies don’t notice my prying eyes.

Savage untammed, little beings, not at all like the textbooks described, wistfully floating around, glowing an ambient, beaming light. Occasionally, someone would catch a glimpse of one in a forest or near a stream—a fleeting glow, just zooming past your peripheral vision. The Fairies were shy, humble, and good-natured forest dwellers who loved snacking on berries. Small in stature, the tallest one recorded was no more than 12 inches off the ground. These magnificent creatures were worshiped across the Everworld, even more so among the Witches and Elves. This was because the glow each Fairy held was the fuel that generated our magic. Without the Fairies, none of us would have powers. But to get their glow, they first need to feast.

The middle woman opened her cherub lips to show two rows of white, razor blade teeth in greeting as I walked up the aisle to kneel before the trio, who sat perched upon three thrones made of ivory. No one knows where they came from and they never elected to tell whoever asked. I bowed my head towards them. The two males, on opposite sides of the woman, looked bored to be here, utterly still while Acilia was practically buzzing in her seat. Acilia spoke, “Rise child. I trust you come with good news?” “Yes M’lady. The party we sent to Estron has returned with what you asked for.” I pulled back my bag from my side and pulled out the mangled crown, once glowing and proud, now muddied and missing jewels. “King Ister is dead.”

When their mouths were closed, though, they looked like little sleeping children, no older than two years old, snug in their bedrolls. Every yawn, you were reminded of those fangs - but they almost seemed like an afterthought if you considered how gorgeous their feathery wings were. Some brown, some white, some red, all gathered there in the bassinet. Curling together for warmth, looking as if they couldn’t hurt a fly let alone people, which is what the rumors said. Their pearlescent hair coiled around their chubby bodies, rising and falling with their breaths.

We stood around, looking down at them. This was the first litter of such creatures birthed in King Aron’s reign. He had sent messengers to observe them, and I was among the crew. If they showed any sign of violence, I was to end them, immediately. The fangs, technically, were a sign of violence. But I couldn’t do it. As the others walked away, eager to report back to their masters, I bundled the sleeping angels and held them under my arm.

Now, all these years later, I of course wish I hadn’t done that.

“Sacrifice! Sacrifice! Sacrifice!”

Misty had her hands tied behind her back with a brown rope. Her legs were tied together and she could not move. Her dark brown hair and white dressed that reached her knees, flowed in the wind as she was carried on a stake, to the mountain that reached the sky. The people surrounded the carriage carrying her and marched up towards the mountain.

The angelic creatures with feathered wings and pearlescent hair, they protected the people of a small village. The one thing they needed to give them in return is to root out all evil from the village and offer them as a sacrifice. In return the people received protection and riches beyond their wildest dreams. The elders always spoke of the creature and everyone dreamed of holding the position of ‘the guardian.’

Misty blinked away tears as she looked up at the sky. She went from being the top of her class to on a stake being brought up the mountain. Misty closed her eyes a reminisced her memories the past 15 years of her life. She then closed her eyes and slipped away into her memories.

“Misty!” Her little brother hugged her.

She giggles and hugged him back, “It’s been too long!”

“How was being the guardian’s assistant! It was amazing right! Oh, please tell me all about it!” He squealed with excitement. His big sister finally had a chance to see what the guardian does for a living. It must of been the best day of her life in his eyes.

“I can’t speak of what happens on the mountain, you know that.”

He pouted and sighed, “Fine…” he grumbled and went to his room. Misty giggled as her mother and father greeted her. Her mother was on the shorter side of the people in the village, but nevertheless she was beatutiful. Her hazel eyes gleamed with approval, as she smiles at Misty. Her father was one of the tallest people in the village and had dark brown hair. He stared at Misty with his grey eyes.

“I am so proud of you!” Her mother spoke enthusiastically. Misty smiled at her but, she knew that her mother only was proud because she could brag about it to her ‘friends’. Her father gave her a nod of approval and she returned it.

“I’m glad to be home,” Misty smiled.

She opened her eyes and she saw her family crying and arguing as the carriage past their home. Misty mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ but, everything on her body hurt so much that she couldn’t say a word. Her brother was fighting against the crowd to try to get to her, while sobbing. Her mother yelled at her that she was a disgrace to the family and her father let a silent tear fell. The moment was so painful that she closed her eyes once again and turned her head away.

“Misty,” Her teacher tapped on her shoulder to get her attention. Misty turned around to look at her teacher. She had fallen asleep once again during class.

“Hmm…?”

“As much as I regret to admit this,” He paused and snarled, “The guardian wants to have a word with you.”

Her eyes lit up as she sprung from her seat, “Really?!”

The teacher rolled his eyes and pointed outside. A person covered in suit and armor sat down outside the armor was trailed with gold, which complemented the main white color covering the armor. Misty rushed outside leaving her teacher in the dust behind her. She had almost reached the guardian when she slowed down into a walk. They sensed her presence and stood up and walked over to her.

“Misty,” Their voice was strong but muffled through the helmet of the armor, “I’ve been watching you for a while now. Will you do the honor of being my assistant?”

The words left her mouth before she could say a word. Her hands shook as she shook her head enthusiastically. The offer was too amazing to be true and she even doubted that she wasn’t still dreaming.

“If that is the case follow me up the mountain. You have much to learn.”

Misty felt a pain in her right arm and she opened her eyes. It was her teacher stabbing her with a pitchfork.

“I knew you were a bloody witch!” He screamed at her. People joined in on the insults.

“You should of never of been born!”

“You’re lucky that this is all that befalls you!”

“How dare you disgrace our protectors!”

“Burn in hell!”

Misty felt the pain with each word. The carriage was now half way up the mountain. Her eyes blurred with her tears as their words cut into her heart. Each word a blade stabbing her. Trying to ease the pain she closed her eyes while grunting her teeth.

“Misty!”

She had wandered up the mountain with the guardian in hand. They screamed at her to slow down. It had been a year since the guardian chose her as their assistant. They reached the pearly white gate that was just beyond the clouds.

“When do I get to meet the creatures?” Misty asked the guardian.

“You can meet them during the next sacrifice,” One of the elders stood at the mountain and smiled at Misty. Her face lit up, wanting to meet their protectors.

“When will the next sacrifice be?!” Misty asked cheerfully.

“It’s not too far away, my dear,” He stroked his long grey beard as he spoke, “Any day now. There is a little girl who has been spreading rumors about our angelic protectors.”

Misty looked at him in shock, “Who would dare say such cruel words?!”

The guardian stepped into the conversation with a stern voice, “That’s enough Misty.”

“But-“

They gave her a stern look even though their mask was on.

“Yes Guardian…” Misty looked down, feeling as if she had done something wrong. The guardian walked past her, gently patting her head, as they walked by.

It started to be hard the breathe. Misty opened her eyes. They had reached the top of the mountain. The guardian stood there and looked at me.

“No one may pass this point. Turn back now,” They spoke authoritatively. Half respecting and half fearing him, all left. The guardian opened the gate a pushed the carriage through the gates.

Misty’s mind flashed back to that night…

It was pitch black outside on the mountain, which the only source of light being from a torch Misty had taken up with her. She couldn’t wait another day, it’s been months and no one has been sacrificed. Misty opened the gate. No one was around but her.

She silently walked through the gates and they closed behind her. Even with the torch, Misty still could not make out a thing. Suddenly she tripped and rolled down a steep hill. The sound of coins being flung around echoed in the air. She had fallen into the creatures riches.

As she fell, she dropped her torch. It was illuminating something towards a stone wall. A human skull. Misty gasped in fear and scrambled to her feet. She then covered her mouth after making a sound. Quickly she tried to run towards the gates.

Misty heard wingbeats close behind her. A feather as big as her arm fell in front of her face. She stopped where she was immediately as she felt breathing down her neck. Slowly, Misty turned around to see a creature. It had feathered wings and pearlescent hair, just how the elders described. They failed to mention the sharp talons it possessed and its fangs…

Misty stared at the creature. One eye was made of gold and the other was pitch black dark. It didn’t move, only breathe. Slowly Misty backed up and the creature opened the gate for her. With a blink of a eye the creature caused a fire among the pillars around the gate, to help Misty see in the dark. Her fear disappeared as she saw the creature try to help her.

She looked at the creature and extended her arm to pet it’s glorious mane of hair, “Thank you” She spoke softly.

“She’s harming the protector!” A loud scream echoed through the clouds and mountains. People all the way down at the village woke up and saw Misty’s mother yelling. Misty looked fearfully at the creature. It flew back into the gates, closing them behind it.

People climbed the mountain and saw the top of the pillars set on fire.

“She must be a witch!”

“No way she could of reached all the way up there the make fires!

“I bet that’s how she became an assistant! She brainwashed the guardian!”

“Bloody magic user!”

“She might try and harm the protector!!”

The guardian made an appearance. They stood in front of Misty and scoffed, “You went through the gate…”

“SILENCE!!!!” The elder yelled. He coughed from straining his voice. The elder made his way through the crowd, “For this witch, I punish her with death!”

Her mind flashed back to the present.

The guardian untied her from the stake and brushed her off. Slowly the guardian removed their helmet. A woman stood in front of of her, with short black hair and scars on her face.

“I truly am sorry Misty,” She spoke sadly, “That day you were lucky to meet Ryu. This day, you will not be so lucky.”

With those last few words the guardian closed the gate behind Misty. Trapping her without an escape. Glowing eyes then met her body.

“This was an okay life…” Misty smiled and looked at the creatures, “They never did tell us about your fangs.”

Fangs Dang They even Sang

Fly High Not sure Why

Feathers Heathers What about Tethers

Fur Lure Stay away Cure

The elders always told stories of angelic creatures, with feathered wings and pearlescent hair, I always pictured a beautiful creature, pure and innocent, something that would be so enchanting that you couldn’t look away. I was right in my imaginings of these great creatures, but for the completely wrong reasons.

One day I was walking through the forest, I was sent out to pick berries and mushrooms for my mother. I was happily picking berries when I heard a strange noise from somewhere nearby, it sounded like a cross between angelic bells, and a ghostly whisper. I stood up and looked around to find the source of the sound, but I saw nothing. I assumed it was just the wind blowing through the foliage so I went back to picking berries. But then I heard it again. This time I knew it wasn’t the wind, it was closer this time, the bells rang sweetly, but the ghostly whispers were also much closer, the sounds sang together, closer and closer. I looked around, desperate to find the source, that’s when I saw it, just a quick glance, but nevertheless, I saw the giant, pure white, feathered wing, it was quickly hidden behind the trees and foliage.

As the wing disappeared I slowly walked closer to where I had seen it, hoping to catch a glimpse at one of the majestic creatures the elders describe in their stories. I slowly walked closer and closer, cautious to not scare it away. As soon as I was close enough, I peeked around the tree and saw it, the beautiful, pure white creature, its hair shimmering in the sunlight, its feathered wings trailing with it. I was in awe of its beauty, it was more majestic and amazing than I had ever imagined. I was captivated by it, I couldn’t look away. The creature turned and stared at me, its glittering eyes curious, but then its expression changed, it was glaring, its fangs bared angrily. Wait… fangs?! The elders never mentioned fangs in their stories!

It was beautiful, the creature that stood in front of me, its golden locks of hair twisting in beautiful patterns, its equally shiny gold skin completing it. The Angel-like creature stares down at me for a few minutes. Its mouth closes. “What are you?” My subconscious mind asks, but I already know the answer. I just wanted to hear the creatures voice. Anticipating the euphoric sensory that must be its voice, I look between the creature and the scenery. They both compliment each others classical luxury effortlessly. We stand in a seemingly endless pit of ankle-level water, the smell of beaches on a hot sunny day, lingering in the air. But instead of an answer, the creature bears its teeth, and Tilts its head; the beach smell quickly being replaced by an unsettling taste of dry blood. The thing had fangs, fangs that had meat caught between them, human meat. I see Robes and armour of past warriors, creatures, witches and wizards lodged in its teeth and the back of its mouth. Quickly releasing this creatures thirst for blood precedes its appearance. I attempt to take off running. For I was no warrior, I never had been despite growing up in one of the richest kingdoms. This was because I was spoilt, spoilt rotten; there was a reason I had been one of the only humans to see this creature. It’s because I’m not a, General, a High-Mage, A witch or a king. It was because I’d paid for it - my parents had paid for it. What I hadn’t anticipated was that I was paying to be devoured by some demon disguised as an angel. Fight wasn’t something I had within me, which I very much knew, I also knew that if I stayed to observe the creature, I would be the next thing that ends up stuck in its teeth. The creatures snarls and begins to rush at me in giant steps, the ground erupting into mini-earthquakes with every step it takes. The thing chasing me down looks hungry for a bite, its wings flaying unsettlingly as it clearly intends to fly up into the air, pluck me off the ground, straight into its mouth. This reality brings tears to the brim of my eyes and cold sweat to my forehead, my hands shaking rapidly as me and the creature run through the endless mass of water whilst puddles form under my feet with each step I take. I keep running, and I’ll keep running until my legs give out. . .

In the village of Eldoria, nestled between the misty crags of the Elder Mountains, tales of the celestial beings known as the Seraphs were as common as the morning dew. According to the village elders, these creatures were angelic, adorned with majestic feathered wings that shimmered under the moonlight and hair that glistened with a pearlescent sheen, casting halos of light around their serene faces. The Seraphs were revered as guardians, watchers of the night who kept the dark forces at bay. No story ever whispered of danger, for they were the epitome of purity and grace. However, on a night shadowed by a new moon, the village of Eldoria faced an unprecedented terror. Lyla, a young and curious herbalist, ventured into the woods seeking rare moonflowers. Guided only by the faint glow of her lantern, she stumbled upon a clearing she had never seen before. There, bathed in the silvery light of starshine, stood a figure that matched the desIn the village of Eldoria, nestled between the misty crags of the Elder Mountains, tales of the celestial beings known as the Seraphs were as common as the morning dew. According to the village elders, these creatures were angelic, adorned with majestic feathered wings that shimmered under the moonlight and hair that glistened with a pearlescent sheen, casting halos of light around their serene faces. The Seraphs were revered as guardians, watchers of the night who kept the dark forces at bay. No story ever whispered of danger, for they were the epitome of purity and grace. However, on a night shadowed by a new moon, the village of Eldoria faced an unprecedented terror. Lyla, a young and curious herbalist, ventured into the woods seeking rare moonflowers. Guided only by the faint glow of her lantern, she stumbled upon a clearing she had never seen before. There, bathed in the silvery light of starshine, stood a figure that matched the descriptions of the Seraphs. Mesmerized, Lyla approached, her heart filled with awe and her mind racing with stories of old. As she drew closer, the Seraph turned, revealing not only the ethereal beauty of its wings and the luminous strands of its hair but also something far more menacing. A pair of gleaming, sharp fangs protruded from its smiling mouth, and its eyes glinted with a predatory gleam. Frozen in fear, Lyla realized that the tales had omitted a crucial detail. The Seraphs were not merely guardians; they were hunters of the night. criptions of the Seraphs. Mesmerized, Lyla approached, her heart filled with awe and her mind racing with stories of old. As she drew closer, the Seraph turned, revealing not only the ethereal beauty of its wings and the luminous strands of its hair but also something far more menacing. A pair of gleaming, sharp fangs protruded from its smiling mouth, and its eyes glinted with a predatory gleam. Frozen in fear, Lyla realized that the tales had omitted a crucial detail. The Seraphs were not merely guardians; they were hunters of the night.

Her mouth widened with a disturbing grin, revealing pointy white fangs. She threw her head back and laughed, shaking the floor of the room, as others sat in silence unsure whether they should continue watching out of admiration or be taking precaution. What kind of creature was this?

She quickly sat back down on the floor and looked inquisitively at the books set out in front of her.

The island itself was easy to find; they had meticulously detailed the parchment map regarding its location, and its outline. What the chart didn’t tell was of the hidden rock formations, stretching below the waterline, waiting to trap unsuspecting mariners - unsuspecting mariners like us.

The storm, too, had appeared from nowhere; the heavy, black clouds rolling over us… covering us… like a blanket thrown over a birdcage. The lightning came instantly, striking our masts, setting alight the sails, and bringing fiery death from above. As the wind and rain buffeted us from either side, the waves raised and lowered us with a violence that seemed—if you were a believer of such things—a deliberate, malevolent act of destruction.

A flaming shower from the skies, or a crushing death on the jagged rocks stabbing through the splintering hull of our battered and creaking ship. As the burning masts snapped and folded down upon us, the choice was no choice at all; many took their chances in the water, only to find the brutal tides as unforgiving as the flames. Their screams—piercing out from the sea, louder than even the roars of the waves—as the fragility of their soft skin and bones thrashed against the rocks, will haunt me until my death, which, I feel, may only be moments away.

I cling to the prow, cursing my vanity, cursing my naivety at allowing Mercar to convince me to make this voyage into damnation. ‘Who am I?’ I think, watching those who trusted my hubris, and arrogance of my abilities and worthiness, meet their doom without fight, without hope. It was to me, assured the priest, that the responsibility lay for saving the princess, Madellaine. None other than I could navigate the straits and make landfall, thus providing the means of escape for the young would-be queen; imprisoned on this desolate isle by the vile usurper, Hagan.

It would be to me, and only me, that the angels would release the woman. I can see them, perhaps fifty or more, standing in a line along the cliff face, waiting for my landing. They are beautiful to behold, these statuesque guardians; their pearlescent hair, as golden as I have ever seen; their white robes glowing, as if the sun shone on naught but them; their feathered wings fluttering gently as they now hover in anticipation. Behind them, I can now clearly see our princess and her captor approaching the land’s end. They stroll, arm in arm, a nonchalance to their bearing belying all that we had been told.

As the angels look to their mistress, the truth dawns on me at last; Madellaine is no prisoner. She smiles at her pets, gesturing for them to feed and then, as if a murmuration of interlinked starlings, they throw themselves into flight. Downwards, downwards toward the dead and dying; plucking up the feast delivered them by the skies and the waters.

I look at Madellaine, for a last time, as the waterline now climbs up my legs, the ocean subsuming the tattered splinters of what was once my ship.

She smiles at me, then turns, without a word, back to her treasured island; the threat of capture once again averted.