BOOK WIL UPDATE (Sorry for spam)
When I was a child, I knew not if other worlds exist, but was told they do.
My mother, wherever she might be now, told me once that there are five of these worlds, called ‘realms’, in total, of which I only know their names. (There is my home, Drowning Dreams; “the realm of those-with-seaweed-hair”, and then there are the others, let me think… Ah! There is Boiling Blood; “the realm of griffins”, Iron Will; “the ream of the stubborn”, Mind’s Pen; “the realm of storytellers”, and Rose Gold; “the realm of masked ladies”.) Each of these realms possess their own Heireage, and each of these Heireages raise the children of the heirs and heiresses.
Within every generation, all Heireages, as my own often reminds me, are held responsible for raising a single child. This child is titled the heir, or heiress; the great champion of the Heireage. They must represent their home-realm to, well, something, the question of ‘what’ I have yet to have answered. Likewise, each heiring or heiressing child is to be clever when thinking on the feet. It is necessary for us to be both spiritual and tough, and most importantly, to be unafraid of pride for our realms. The more ferocious the pride, the better, my Heireage claims.
I often ponder what the other heirs and heiresses might be like, although I know it is against the rules to be friends with any of them. I know it is wrong, but something deep within me stirs whenever the Drowning Dreams’s Heireage tells me something new of others like me. I mean, just think of it! Four other members, besides myself, of the three different species, spread across five realms! From what I have already been taught, I am the first to be born of them! However, as much an honor as it is, I am repressed. There is only a small fragment of my powers allowed until, of course, my mother’s generation has completed their duties, plus twenty-five years to wait for our own mysterious “duties”. What the duties are, I have asked with no response. Now as for what happens to the heirs and heiresses after completing their duties, that question grants me an even greater reward, which is, well, even less of response.
Yet, that doesn’t matter, does it? I am quite sure the other heirs and heiresses will find themselves with the same question, once they are all born and hatched. What is every heiring child molded for exactly? What am I, Sanguis, the current heir of the Realm of Drowning Dreams, and what am I to become after decades of the strictest education, followed by the toughest training? Furthermore, why does my Heireage refuse to answer their heir’s questions, if they really find me so important?
Believe me, I wonder this often.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The first memory I can recall, is well, my hatching, a bittersweet memory.
I remember the feels of salty sea’s spray; the bubbling foam as it popped against me. I remember my infant-self wailing as they did so. I mean, after all, the water was, and frankly always has been, rather harsh for both scales and skin. I still prefer warmth then the frigid, half-frozen water of my home. Trust me, it isn’t pleasant.
(MORE EXAMPLES TO BE ADDED)
Yet all such sensations fail in comparison to my mother’s loving presence. Ohh, how I miss her touch! She first nursed me the first taste I had experienced outside my egg. It was warm, reviving me and distracting me from the cold. She then cradled me, so lovingly, in her arms while she sang siren-songs to me. Indeed, it is no wonder why us faeries can seduce sailors and pirates by voice alone! She would hush me in the most gentle murmurs. Her breathy whisper sounded so much like both the crashing of waves and sea frothing. She carefully, with her long-nailed fingers, brushed my hair of golden seaweed. The reassurance was quite soothing, and I swore then to keep my seaweed hair in tip-tip shape, considering how much she seemed to cherish it. Even more so, how much she seemed to cherish me.
As for when my eyes could open? Oho, everything changed for my infant-self.
There were colors! Bright colors of the sea! The emerald green of my mother’s adoring eyes, the zaffre-blue of her long, seaweed hair, and the ashen- grey of her scales! And around me, the pale sea foam. And when I searched downwards. the bioluminescent creatures, deep, deep below, made the water look like a galaxy, whole constellations were down there! I only had to lift my head for more. The sky! So grey, devoid of color, and dark clouds beginning to form. It frightened me, so I instead gazed in the only direction I hadn’t yet- where my mother faced. I truly wish I hadn’t, and that my duties had been delayed a moment longer. I regret often, my inquisitiveness, which seems to have existed even then. If only I had been allowed one more tender moment with her, my beloved mother.
As soon as I observed my home, the towering kastilyo, a tall building made of dark rocks and decorated with pure black pearl, a chill rang up my spine. My mother sighed heavily, and I noticed then, the weary expression on her face. No, not just weary, exhausted, even. It saddened me, and I realized the whole time that she had not once smiled. And then she did- smiling down at me softly. IT was only an instant later I was handed to a member of our Heireage, an elderly woman with a strange, mocking look in her yellow eyes. She was Mrs. Malme Chetrigg, the one who had raised my mother when my grandmother had fulfilled her duties and vanished. I soon found out, Alsiss Chetrigg, her then eleven-year-old daughter, would raise me when only a slightly different fate would befall my mother.
Mrs. Chetrigg placed me in her girl’s arms, the two unsmiling, looking at me in a way that made me feel the opposite of loved. They began to whisper to each other; in a dialect I have been forbidden to learn. I remember Alsiss’s first actions toward me. She roughly pulled back my teeth, prodded my scales, and pinched my muscles, before nodding to my mother. I will never forget my mother’s face, her reptilian eyes- pained, heartbroken, distracted- staring after me, as I was taken away, not to see her again for a long while.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
My mother, wherever she might be now, told me once that there are five of these worlds, called ‘realms’, in total, of which I only know their names. (There is my home, Drowning Dreams; “the realm of those-with-seaweed-hair”, and then there are the others, let me think… Ah! There is Boiling Blood; “the realm of griffins”, Iron Will; “the ream of the stubborn”, Mind’s Pen; “the realm of storytellers”, and Rose Gold; “the realm of masked ladies”.) Each of these realms possess their own Heireage, and each of these Heireages raise the children of the heirs and heiresses.
Within every generation, all Heireages, as my own often reminds me, are held responsible for raising a single child. This child is titled the heir, or heiress; the great champion of the Heireage. They must represent their home-realm to, well, something, the question of ‘what’ I have yet to have answered. Likewise, each heiring or heiressing child is to be clever when thinking on the feet. It is necessary for us to be both spiritual and tough, and most importantly, to be unafraid of pride for our realms. The more ferocious the pride, the better, my Heireage claims.
I often ponder what the other heirs and heiresses might be like, although I know it is against the rules to be friends with any of them. I know it is wrong, but something deep within me stirs whenever the Drowning Dreams’s Heireage tells me something new of others like me. I mean, just think of it! Four other members, besides myself, of the three different species, spread across five realms! From what I have already been taught, I am the first to be born of them! However, as much an honor as it is, I am repressed. There is only a small fragment of my powers allowed until, of course, my mother’s generation has completed their duties, plus twenty-five years to wait for our own mysterious “duties”. What the duties are, I have asked with no response. Now as for what happens to the heirs and heiresses after completing their duties, that question grants me an even greater reward, which is, well, even less of response.
Yet, that doesn’t matter, does it? I am quite sure the other heirs and heiresses will find themselves with the same question, once they are all born and hatched. What is every heiring child molded for exactly? What am I, Sanguis, the current heir of the Realm of Drowning Dreams, and what am I to become after decades of the strictest education, followed by the toughest training? Furthermore, why does my Heireage refuse to answer their heir’s questions, if they really find me so important?
Believe me, I wonder this often.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The first memory I can recall, is well, my hatching, a bittersweet memory.
I remember the feels of salty sea’s spray; the bubbling foam as it popped against me. I remember my infant-self wailing as they did so. I mean, after all, the water was, and frankly always has been, rather harsh for both scales and skin. I still prefer warmth then the frigid, half-frozen water of my home. Trust me, it isn’t pleasant.
(MORE EXAMPLES TO BE ADDED)
Yet all such sensations fail in comparison to my mother’s loving presence. Ohh, how I miss her touch! She first nursed me the first taste I had experienced outside my egg. It was warm, reviving me and distracting me from the cold. She then cradled me, so lovingly, in her arms while she sang siren-songs to me. Indeed, it is no wonder why us faeries can seduce sailors and pirates by voice alone! She would hush me in the most gentle murmurs. Her breathy whisper sounded so much like both the crashing of waves and sea frothing. She carefully, with her long-nailed fingers, brushed my hair of golden seaweed. The reassurance was quite soothing, and I swore then to keep my seaweed hair in tip-tip shape, considering how much she seemed to cherish it. Even more so, how much she seemed to cherish me.
As for when my eyes could open? Oho, everything changed for my infant-self.
There were colors! Bright colors of the sea! The emerald green of my mother’s adoring eyes, the zaffre-blue of her long, seaweed hair, and the ashen- grey of her scales! And around me, the pale sea foam. And when I searched downwards. the bioluminescent creatures, deep, deep below, made the water look like a galaxy, whole constellations were down there! I only had to lift my head for more. The sky! So grey, devoid of color, and dark clouds beginning to form. It frightened me, so I instead gazed in the only direction I hadn’t yet- where my mother faced. I truly wish I hadn’t, and that my duties had been delayed a moment longer. I regret often, my inquisitiveness, which seems to have existed even then. If only I had been allowed one more tender moment with her, my beloved mother.
As soon as I observed my home, the towering kastilyo, a tall building made of dark rocks and decorated with pure black pearl, a chill rang up my spine. My mother sighed heavily, and I noticed then, the weary expression on her face. No, not just weary, exhausted, even. It saddened me, and I realized the whole time that she had not once smiled. And then she did- smiling down at me softly. IT was only an instant later I was handed to a member of our Heireage, an elderly woman with a strange, mocking look in her yellow eyes. She was Mrs. Malme Chetrigg, the one who had raised my mother when my grandmother had fulfilled her duties and vanished. I soon found out, Alsiss Chetrigg, her then eleven-year-old daughter, would raise me when only a slightly different fate would befall my mother.
Mrs. Chetrigg placed me in her girl’s arms, the two unsmiling, looking at me in a way that made me feel the opposite of loved. They began to whisper to each other; in a dialect I have been forbidden to learn. I remember Alsiss’s first actions toward me. She roughly pulled back my teeth, prodded my scales, and pinched my muscles, before nodding to my mother. I will never forget my mother’s face, her reptilian eyes- pained, heartbroken, distracted- staring after me, as I was taken away, not to see her again for a long while.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
