Desert Flower

Chapter I

In ancient times, when the world was still young and lands held countless mysteries, a vast kingdom stretched beneath the azure skies. It was a realm where fantastical beings danced upon the earth like shadows in a dream. Graceful nymphs, ethereal elves, enchanting fae, majestic lupines, and enigmatic demons all coexisted in harmony, weaving their intertwined stories into the tapestry of time.

At the heart of this magnificent domain, the Faerie Lord reigned, a monarch of absolute authority whose presence was both feared and revered. As a solitary pinnacle of power, he was the master of all the land, relentless and unyielding, ruling with a firm hand and a distant gaze. Yet, as the days passed and his twilight approached, something deep and unexpected stirred within his heart—a glimmer of late wisdom, a decision that would echo through the ages.

In his final act of grandeur, the Faerie Lord summoned his seven children, the heirs to his vast legacy. His eyes, once hard as granite, softened as he beheld those who would carry forward his lineage. With a grand gesture, he divided his lands among them, bestowing each a piece of the world he had so dearly loved and controlled.

Thus, the seven faerie children received their portions of the land, each destined to shape their own realm, to weave their own tales under the light of the eternal stars. And so, the world changed, no longer a single expanse of power but a mosaic of kingdoms, where each child carved their destiny and wrote new stories into the unending song of the universe.

And thus was born the story of the Seven Kingdoms, a tale of magic and change, where the voices of the ancients still whisper through the leaves in the wind and the dance of enchanted beings continues to adorn the sacred soil of the faerie lands. Under the light of the moon and the shine of the stars, the legacy of the Faerie Lord lives on, an eternal poem sung by the very heart of the earth.

Delicate memories, like leaves in the wind, danced in Genevieve’s mind as she recalled Elvie, her adoptive mother, who told her stories of the seven realms under the soft light of the moon, lulling her to sleep alongside her sister Samantha. Who could have imagined that the rosy-skinned girl, with her untamed spirit, would one day become the Faerie Lady of the Misty Lands? It had been nine months since Samantha was chosen as the wife of Elion Pelaios, the Lord of the Misty Lands—a man shrouded in mysteries and legends, his reputation fading like mist at dawn. As for the age of the faeries, it remained an enigma, lost in the annals of time, whether a century or a millennium.

Samantha, like Genevieve, was a nymph, but a nymph of fire, distinct from the faeries in her essence. Nymphs, rather than possessing grand powers like flying or superhuman strength, had gifts intertwined with the elements: fire, air, water, and earth. Nature nymphs, like Genevieve, were artisans of life, silent guardians of the lords’ gardens.

Sometimes, Genevieve’s thoughts drifted like clouds in the wind, but her hands remained diligent, tilling the earth beneath her touch. Kneeling in the garden, she attended to the Faerie Lord's request to restore life to once-barren soil. As a nature nymph, she had the gift of encouraging plant growth with grace and speed, but turning dead land into fertile soil was a challenge that required all the depth of her skill and patience.

A soft voice, like a whispering breeze, descended upon Genevieve, interrupting her concentration:

— You seem tired, my dear.

Looking up, she saw Samantha, a vision of grace and beauty in her green dress that fluttered like leaves in the sun.

— Samantha! You look stunning this morning! Has something happened?

— I’m always stunning — she laughed at her own remark.

Genevieve rose, a smile lighting up her face as she gently shook her dress to remove the traces of dirt clinging to the fabric. The time spent kneeling on the ground often covered her with the dust of the very earth she tended. Meanwhile, Samantha wandered among the flowers and beds, her eyes sparkling with admiration at the natural splendor surrounding her.

Elion was not a man concerned with the aesthetics of his lands. However, he had yielded to Samantha’s desire to have someone tend the garden, granting her the presence of Genevieve. Samantha, alone in a new and vast world like the Misty Lands, found comfort in having by her side a friend whose aptitude with nature was unparalleled. With full confidence, she knew that Genevieve was the finest florist and gardener in all the faerie domains, a talent few could contest.

— Every day, this place becomes more beautiful, Genevieve.

She remembered the desolate sight the gardens once presented. It was dreadful, a lifeless land of almost black hue. She could never have imagined that anything could grow from that barren soil. Genevieve had brought color and life. Thanks to her, the green had returned to flourish. The blonde had restored vitality and joy to the environment. Tulips in shades of pink and white dotted the garden, contrasting with the deep green of the grass.

Genevieve smiled and nodded in thanks.

— I plan to plant a few more trees. One larger over there — she pointed to a secluded, empty corner — maybe even add a swing, like the ones we had when we were children.

Samantha smiled, taken by nostalgia.

— In my childhood, I hadn’t yet celebrated the union with a Faerie Lord.

The blonde, immersed in daydreams about the vast space before her, let her imagination wander freely. However, her gaze shifted to the rosy-skinned one beside her, who suddenly displayed an expression of melancholy.

— Are you feeling down?

The rosy-skinned one responded with a look of unease. A maid approached, offering chilled juices and fresh cookies. They both accepted only the juice, thanking her with a courteous gesture. The maid, identified by Genevieve as Naive, then departed.

— I’m not sad, just a bit nervous.

Genevieve brought the glass to her lips and savored the cold juice, refreshed by its delicate flavor. Guava juice, her favorite, evoked a subtle pleasure. With a concerned look, Genevieve guided Samantha to one of the benches by the fountain, furrowing her brows in a gesture of care.

— Explain, dear.

Samantha took a deep breath, speaking with urgency, fearing her friend’s reaction.

— Elion plans to host, later this week, a ball for the court, summoning all the Faerie Lords. This means I will meet them all at once. — The blonde nearly choked on the news, which seemed utterly absurd to her.

— All of them? At once? How long has it been since a ball with everyone present? — she asked, visibly perplexed.

— Not all, but those confirmed so far are Ren of the Solar Lands, Cerise of the Lunar Lands, and Kairon of the Desert Lands.

The blonde's eyes widened, and she shuddered slightly. Everyone knew the feared Red Demon. She had always considered herself fortunate never to have encountered him. And if she ever did, she certainly wouldn’t consider it a stroke of luck.

— Kairon, the Red Demon?

Kairon Melech was the only half-blood Faerie Lord, an enigmatic fusion of fae and demon that permeated the court’s consciousness with his aura of mystery. His presence at social events was a rare phenomenon, as he diligently avoided social interactions, preferring the shadowy realms below. Whispers in the shadows suggested he frequented the underworld.

— He... he — Genevieve looked around to ensure no one was watching and whispered conspiratorially:

— He is a demon, Samantha. — Her voice was a murmur, as if revealing an intimate secret.

— He is an ally, Genevieve — Samantha replied, with a tone that did not seem to disagree but gave her chills at the thought of a personal meeting. — However, he is a sovereign and ally of my husband.

Like everyone in the Faerie Lands court, the blonde knew many terrifying tales about the Red Demon.

The rosy-skinned one looked at her with an expression that seemed to understand her thoughts.

— Don’t be naïve, Genevieve. They are just stories. You, more than anyone, know that people’s words can be exaggerated. We can’t judge someone we haven’t met. After all, these stories might be nothing more than mere gossip!

— Samantha... — Genevieve said with a tone that carried a clear warning — Everyone knows gossip is distorted stories, but always with a kernel of truth. We can’t simply fraternize with demons!

— You’re impossible, Genevieve.

The rosy-skinned one laughed, shaking her head with a disdainful smile. The blonde, in turn, returned the smile, though still carrying a visible tension, worried about the idea of sharing space with a demon.

— He’s not entirely a demon, as you well know. In fact, he’s a half-blood, just like you. — Samantha said with a tone that almost sounded accusatory.

— Don’t compare me to him — Samantha responded, offended by the comparison — I know my origins: I am, on my mother’s side, a nature nymph, and on my father’s side, my origin is still a mystery. However, I can assert with full conviction that I would never use my abilities to dominate the Faerie Lands with flower bombs. I’m not wicked enough for that. — Genevieve mocked without remorse, knowing that having Samantha as a friend was a rare stroke of luck; she would certainly be

condemned if she spoke that way to the wife of a Faerie Lord.

Samantha tilted her head back and laughed.

— Kairon is both fae and demon. He has compulsion abilities. Tell me, what celestial being has the power to make a person act according to their will?

— Poor unfortunate soul who will be Kairon... He may be a feared half-blood, but I confess that I am more afraid of you than of him.

Genevieve smiled and winked slowly, adopting an innocent air.

— How can you be afraid of me? I’m charming.

Samantha’s mother, Elvie, a fire nymph and friend of Genevieve’s mother, cared for Genevieve with the same love and dedication she had given her own daughter after Genevieve’s mother had died shortly after childbirth.

— You’re fabulous, dear — Samantha replied affectionately, enjoying conversations with Genevieve that reminded her of old days and eased the weight on her shoulders.

Standing up, Samantha headed back to the castle.

— In a few hours, the sun will set... Don’t stay tending to the flowers too late. As much as you might want to, you can’t become a nun and hide from the world.

Genevieve rolled her eyes at the comment but nodded and returned to her work.

Elion had requested that she restore the soil for the cultivation of a highly poisonous and medicinal plant, depending on the dosage. Since her stay at the castle began, Elion had noticed Genevieve’s peculiar skill in manipulating biological and chemical substances, an uncommon ability for a nymph.

Nymphs, like the fae, are immortal. However, immortality has its cost. For nymphs, this cost is aging until reaching the peak of beauty. Their beauty was used to attract lords, often as lovers and providers of pleasure, but rarely as wives of Faerie Lords, except for Samantha.