Sadie was born into a Sindarin Tribe of the Fae subspecies known as the púca, a subspecies known for shapeshifting and trickery. The Sindarin are identified by their dragon-like wings. Males dominate the tribes, using brute size and mass to assert control, while women are treated as little more than vessels for breeding.

Sadie was no exception.

She knew from a young age that she would follow the same fate as her mother, Menaphra: wed to the most suitable and left to raise whatever children were produced. As Menaphra was promised to Armadyn, Sadie was promised to Jasren.

It was a shame, Sadie thought. Her mother was a skilled healer who was one of few said to be able to leave wings without as much as a scar after injury. Many others would simply tell the Sindarin to learn and adjust to their damaged wings instead. Something about strength and character building. Her mother had refused many times to move to other groups, to aid them permanently as a healer. She had a role within her own tribe. She would care for their own only, despite how angry it seemed to make the other tribes.

Her mother was the one who recognized Sadie’s own magical potential early on- glowing eyes, shadows that seemed to linger too close, a peculiar sensitivity to currents of magic that were around her- but had always instructed her to keep them secret. She was to never reveal her magic to anyone. She told Sadie that she had bigger obligations to fulfil in life. Still, once a week, she took her away to train far from prying eyes.

Not all secrets could stay buried, it seemed.

It was snowing outside. She was twelve when her small tribe was attacked by a neighboring one. Under the cover of darkness, they attacked, slaughtering her family and friends. They burned the village and killed anyone who resisted. Those who surrendered also found themselves at the end of a blade, blood tainting the pure white ground. Sadie survived, but only because Menaphra hid her in a hollowed, rotting tree and cast a powerful glamor to mask her presence.

Keep quiet. Keep hidden. No matter what happens, do not move. I love you.

Her final words to Sadie.

She witnessed the massacre through the cracks in the tree bark. Her father, Armadyn, fought valiantly for his family and his people, but the force overwhelmed him too quickly. She watched him cut down, his body falling in the red snow. And then the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Sadie stayed silent as her mother begged, though she was frozen in fear and could do little more than blink and breathe.

Blink and breathe. Stay quiet. She reminded herself until a scream stole her attention away. Her eyes shifted to where the invaders seem to have found their true prize: Menaphra. They dragged her from the house, demanding something Sadie couldn’t hear over the burning flames and the screams of her tribe. She saw her mother shaking her head and the Fae who beat her until she surrendered. But she never did.

Paralyzed by fear, she watched as her mother resisted. Even when her wings were punctured, her face bruised and bloodied. She may have been hallucinating, but her mother seemed to have one final act of defiance in her. She looked towards the trees and mouthed one final, silent message to her little girl: Survive.

Her world shattered only a moment later. A blade plunged through her chest and Sadie stared in horror as they cut her mother’s wings from her body and tossed the rest of her into the growing flames.

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Grief and shock took hold of Sadie and her magic surged uncontrollably. Her mind was unable to cope with the trauma and instead, twisted the reality around her. Shadows crawled from the ground, enveloping her village in illusions of nightmarish creatures, trapping the invaders in a world of their worst fears.

Believing they were attacked by phantoms and curses, the invaders fled in terror. By dawn, they were gone and the village was silent. All that remained was ashes and shadows.

Sadie remembered none of it. The strain of unleashing her magic and the trauma of the night fractured her mind, wiping her memory clean and locking the worst of it deep within her to shield her from the overwhelming pain and emotions that should have followed. She wandered the charred remains for hours, confused and broken, not understanding why her family had left her there.

Why am I all alone? She cried.

She wandered in the cold for days until she was found by another group of Sindarin púcas who had been looking for any survivors. Weak and delirious, she could recall nothing of that night- her powers, the attackers, the massacre. Her memories were gone, powers suppressed once again by her trauma, leaving her with only fragments of her past.

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She was taken in by another tribe as a helpless orphan. Without memory, she grew up believing herself to be weak. Still, shadows seemed to cling to her, strange dreams haunted her, and the slips in reality that surrounded her were dismissed as nightmares and tricks of the mind.

Years had passed and she was considered just another Fae woman in the tribe, though they struggled immensely to force her into the role of marriage and childrearing. No one wished to be associated with the girl who carried a lingering, unshakeable sadness and hollow emptiness that no one could explain. She spoke of flashes, visions- fire, blood, a woman with broken, cut off wings- but the pieces never fit together.

She remains, a forgotten force walking through life as a shadow, unaware that her darkness may one day stir and demand to be acknowledged.