Chapter Two: The Vanishing
1005 Words
The play garden was alive with laughter and the shimmer of harmless magic. Fae children darted across the field, their wings glimmering in the soft afternoon light, as they engaged in an exhilarating game of dodgeball. Only, in their world, the game took on an enchanted twist—each child conjured translucent bubbles infused with gentle bursts of light, aiming to tag their opponents. The rules were simple: avoid getting hit or be temporarily encased in a floating bubble until a teammate freed you.
Rhea stood in the center of the commotion, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight, her eyes—matching flames of molten amber—alight with determination. She moved with effortless agility, her small but sturdy frame twisting and leaping as she evaded each attack. The other children admired her skill, but none of them voiced their thoughts aloud.
“She’s so fast,” whispered one girl, wings fluttering as she barely dodged an incoming bubble.
“And smart,” another boy muttered. “She always finds a way to win.”
Nearby, a group of fae women sat on a stone bench, watching the children with mild amusement. Their silken robes rustled as they whispered amongst themselves, their voices weaving a tapestry of curiosity and quiet wonder.
“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” one of them said, her lilac-colored wings folding neatly against her back. “She’s not like the others, yet she has adapted so seamlessly.”
“She was but an infant when she arrived,” another murmured, tilting her head toward Rhea. “A human babe, or so we thought.”
“And yet,” a third added, her gaze fixed on the child’s glowing eyes, “there’s no denying the power in her.”
Rhea, oblivious to their hushed conversation, grinned as she narrowly escaped another bubble, pivoting sharply on her heel. The game had reached its most competitive stage. Only three players remained standing—Rhea, a boy with iridescent wings named Vael, and a girl with hair as silver as moonlight, Liora.
Vael smirked, hurling a bubble toward Rhea with a flick of his fingers. It hurtled toward her in a swift arc. She spun, barely missing it, but before she could steady herself, Liora’s bubble was already sailing toward her blind spot.
Too late.
Rhea gasped as the glowing sphere closed in. With instinctive desperation, she leaped backward, her foot slipping on the damp grass near the lake’s edge. For a split second, time seemed to slow. She flailed, her red hair fanning out like a halo of fire, and then—
She vanished beneath the water.
A ripple spread across the lake’s surface, then another. But there was no sign of Rhea.
The laughter and chatter stilled. The children froze, eyes wide with horror.
“Rhea?” Liora called hesitantly, stepping forward.
Vael’s wings twitched as he hovered closer to the water’s edge. “She’s… she’s going to come up, right?” His voice lacked its usual confidence.
A few moments passed. Too long. The surface remained undisturbed.
Panic set in.
“Someone get the elders!” a boy cried, dashing toward the group of fae women.
The women were already on their feet, their amusement replaced with concern.
“She didn’t fly,” one murmured, stepping forward. “She fell straight in.”
“But she’s fae,” another countered, though uncertainty wove through her words. “She should be able to—”
Before anyone could respond, the lake began to glow.
***
Rhea had expected the water to be cold, expected it to rush over her like a shroud. But as she sank, a strange warmth enveloped her instead. It was not like sinking—it was being pulled. The lake’s depths shimmered, revealing something more than darkness.
Colors swirled around her, deep blues giving way to streaks of gold and violet. The water was not water anymore—it was light, alive and humming, whispering to her in a language she did not understand but somehow recognized.
Then, she saw it.
A reflection—her reflection.
But it wasn’t quite her.
The girl staring back at her had the same fiery red hair, the same striking eyes, but she looked older. Taller. And behind her, shadows shifted like living creatures, stretching, curling, waiting.
“Who are you?” Rhea whispered, her voice carrying despite the lack of air.
The reflection smiled. “You already know.”
A sharp pulse echoed in Rhea’s chest, like the beating of a second heart. Her breath hitched.
“I don’t—”
“You do,” the reflection insisted, stepping closer. Though it was just a reflection, it moved as though it had weight, purpose. “You were never just a child of this world.”
Rhea felt a pressure building inside her, a force she had never known. It prickled beneath her skin, coiling in her limbs, thrumming in her bones.
“Let me show you,” the reflection whispered, lifting a hand.
Rhea’s instincts screamed to move away, to run—but there was nowhere to go.
The reflection’s hand touched hers.
A surge of power exploded through her.
***
Above the lake, the surface suddenly roiled, breaking into waves as a column of light burst forth. The fae children stumbled backward. The elders gasped, shielding their eyes.
Then—silence.
The glow dimmed.
And Rhea floated to the surface.
But something was different.
She rose, hovering just above the water, her body wreathed in ribbons of shadow and ember-like light. Her eyes—once bright, mischievous—now burned with something deeper, something ancient.
She landed gently on the shore, her feet barely making a sound against the grass. The children stared, too afraid to speak. Even the elders hesitated.
Rhea blinked, looking down at her hands, then at the fae surrounding her.
“What…” she whispered. “What just happened?”
No one answered.
But deep within her, something had awakened.
And it was just the beginning.
- Writer
