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I sighed, glaring at Ayen one more time before I hopped away, my companion following behind me.
When we neared the dwellings, I launched off the branch and landed onto a wooden bridge, my left palm skimming the rope for reassurance. Keia flapped her wings before resting on my head again, and I checked to ensure my hair covered both of my ears as I passed a few homes, greeting those who were in my path.
Evening was beginning to blanket our sky. A mild breeze rolled in through the gaps of the treetops. I tilted my head up and breathed it in, smiling as the scent of sweets wafted into my nose.
“Mother!” I called once I stepped inside my home.
Her voice came from the back when she replied. When I walked out to the little garden, I saw her with her friends, picking herbs that grew on our trees. Her pale blue hair danced with the soft breeze, her dark blue eyes sparkling when she noticed me.
“Kenia!” one of my mother’s friends squealed, pastel purple hair and soft purple eyes. “Radiant as ever, my darling.”
“Keep her under your eyes, Ayda. You never know who might want her for themselves.”
The final say was up to me,I thought, lightly scratching my pale arms.
The females giggled at that last comment.
“I wouldn’t exaggerate that much, Anaria,” I said as I walked closer to them. “It would only be an Elf who would try to impress me.”
They giggled again, making shameless jokes they wouldn’t utter in the presence of a male.
They all delighted in the topic of me choosing a mate. Despite being far from the age of maturity, whenever I was around, mating and courtship were almost always mentioned in my presence. No matter how many times I expressed my disinterest in the topic, it never deterred them, and I learned that the best thing to do was drown their chatter out until they grew bored and moved on to the next topic.
“Is it true Faelyn went into the Werewolves’ portal today?” I asked my mother quietly, gesturing for Keia to pluck a flower that was beyond my reach.
My mother sighed, assessing some red leaves before she abandoned them.
I pursed my lips, clenching my hand around a flower before quickly easing my grip when a petal fell. Words bubbled up my throat, a nasty feeling taking root in my chest, and before I could hold my tongue, I said, “Tomorrow it will be the Spiders’ portal, isn’t that so?”
“Child!” one of the females gasped, loud and appalled, and it was enough to make shame clamp my jaws and stiffen my tongue when I saw my mother freeze.
I dropped my head, letting my pastel blue hair curtain my face from the world. And yet that bitter feeling remained.
“The Werewolves are monsters, too,” I whispered, hunching my shoulders. “How are they different?”
“They have not killed from our kind.”
Softly spoken, but the blow landed hard, an invisible lash against my spine that made my chest pinch. My bottom lip trembled, my throat narrowing as my nose burned.
And that hollowness heightened again, the absence in my family sharp like a stolen puzzle piece.
Our universe was created in a way where each species lived in its own world with only portals connecting them to other species. There were five of them: the land of the Elves, the land of the Fairies, the Vampires, the Werewolves, and then the land of the ultimate predators… the Spiders.
We Elves didn’t know much about Spiders aside from what our Elders taught us, most of which came from books written by the Fairies because their world was somewhat a neutral ground, and they interacted with all the species. The Werewolves were next on the power pyramid because they knew mercy. The Vampires came third due to their weakness to sunlight, followed by the Fairies who possessed magic and wings. And then there were the Elves: the weaker, smaller, more fragile creatures.
Some of these species were not meant to mingle.
Some of these portals were not meant to be crossed.
My sister was the only Elf brave enough to defy that.
And she never returned.
“Sweet Kenia.” Anaria cupped my cheek, her thumb delicately wiping the drop of sorrow that spilled from my eye. “How can you be let out into the world when you cannot distinguish friend from foe? Werewolves know mercy, but a Spider is no friend. They are only gentle and patient when they are trying to lure their prey into their web.”
I nodded, her words so familiar I could recite them backwards if I needed to. But they didn’t lessen that bitter feeling.
To some degree, I understood why they surrounded me so closely. My family had already lost its first and eldest child. If my mother and father lost their only remaining daughter—their youngest child, at that—they would be crushed. Even my brother would blame himself, just like how he blamed himself for our elder sister’s death.
