Disclaimer: I do not own the Tairen Soul Series by C.L. Wilson. However, I do own Angela and any made-up names like Cyr's surname (since I could not locate it in the books). This story is dedicated to Cyr. He represents the minor Fey warriors who perished in battle serving the Fey. I have tried to faithfully follow the Feyan language, spellings and names. Please inform me if I am mistaken. Enjoy!

Special thanks to my friend LadyLight0105 for inspiring me to try my hand at OC :-).


Ch. I:Trapped Fey Lord

Ravel vel Arras, Fire master to the Feyreisa's secondary quintet, knitted his black brows into a scowl at his predicament. The sel'dor burned immensely. He could not risk sending a call for help or warning on the Common Path. His violet eyes began to dull from the pain.

Belliard vel Jelani, Fey First Blade, sent him to investigate a small town near Norban to rendez-vous with his compatriots, Sian vel Sendaris and Torel vel Carlian, when he stepped on a trap.

It was not as if the Fey Lord did not check. He always scanned. Somehow, the Eld managed a way to outmaneuver the Fey. He had to find out how.

Until then...he had to figure a way out and fast. It would be nightfall when the Eld have the most power.

Ravel heard a twig snap and stiffened.

A bedraggled woman appeared before him. She stared at him for a moment and slowly approached him. She set her small bundle of herbs on the ground and glanced around her cautiously. She pulled her hands in front of her in the universal hands-up to mean no harm.

She frowned and pulled a jangling tool out from her pocket and looking at the sky she nimbly freed the manacles around his feet first. Her fingers brushed the sel'dor around his manacles and they dropped. She gave him a confused look. Stiffening, she put her finger to her lips. She placed her dirty forest camouflage cloak around him and turned to pick up her bundle. She gathered the dislodged sel'dor and hid it within. An Eldan woman walked into the small clearing.

"What're you doin' in these parts, Angela?" The Eldan woman asked suspiciously.

Ravel held his breath. His heart thudding in his ears. He could barely see through some of the minuscule threads in her cloak with his Fey vision.

"I couldn't find sage in my area, Madame Rodgers." Angela answered demurely.

"You best be returning ere too long, Angela." Madame Rodgers warned. "I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you."

"As soon as I can find some more food for the night, Madame Rodgers." Angela continued. "Please don't let me keep you from your errand."

"Beware of the Fey and the lyrant, girl." Madame Rodgers persisted. Although, Ravel could hear her feet turning to leave. "You wouldn't want to end up like your parents and what those monsters did to them. You see one and report to us. We'll fix 'em."

"Thank you for your kindness," Angela said and Ravel got the impression she made herself look more demure. "I will indeed." He heard her voice quiver for effect. Yet, felt it is real.

Angela made a show of looking for herbs near her cloak. After a long moment Angela removed her cloak from his face while still looking edgily around her.

"You must beware of crows in these parts." Angela whispered. "They're bewitched by something other than Eldan magic. I saw two Fey Lords not far from here. We must hurry you to the river where your scent will dull."

"Why are you helping me?" Ravel asked just as quietly. His violet eyes surveying her closely.

He noticed her gaunt appearance disguised a loveliness in her heart-shaped face. Her hunger made her cheekbones more prominent. Her eyes a piercing grey. Ravel was certain she is not a brunette. It made it hard to distinguish her natural color from her wayward appearance. Her hair is a tangled, matted mess with leaves and twigs stuck in it at odd angles. She could have sold him out and gained something to eat for a day, ruining his life.

Many mortals would have in her stead.

Her face crumpled slightly until she steeled herself. "Lady Marissya saved my mother." She whispered her grief and rage rolling off her in waves, indicating no lie. "The Eld fed her to a lyrant. All because Papa was so thankful to the Fey and invented a way to remove sel'dor." She stared at him defiantly. "I promised him before he died to find a way to the Fey—even if it meant walking through the Faering Mists—and give the new Feyreisa and the Feyreisen his invention. If that means protecting you from the Eld...so be it." Angela closed her eyes briefly and did not face him but watched the trees. "I want you to keep my cloak on. Do you understand? We'll walk when I count to three. I'll act like my load is heavy and lean to the left. That way I can support you."

Ravel realized she was carefully keeping her matted hair in front of her face so as not to attract attention. "Aiyah." He whispered.

Angela gathered her bundle whispering the count and they rose as one shoulder-to-shoulder. She pretended to glance around her and swore.

Ravel was bleeding.

She quickly made a show of stamping out the last of her keflee to hide Ravel's blood. Her heart cried in protest. It was still somewhat fresh and she was literally living off the caffeine. Don't be a soggy dorn, Angela mentally berated herself. You've bigger things to worry about than eating. I'll not waste this opportunity to Papa because of some damn keflee!

Angela pretended to brush against a low-hanging branch and muttered under her breath as she yanked it, causing her dirty skirt to tear farther. Well maybe too far. She thought chagrined. It was almost an improper length. Angela slipped it under her bundle and passed it to Ravel to tie himself and shifted her bundle as he carefully tied his wounds. Leaning against her when he finished they made their way onward.

The sun began to set. Angela's mouth set in a grim line of determination as she headed to the river.

"Can you...can you do some magic to your Fey Lord friends?" She whispered softly.

Nodding he closed his eyes to concentrate.

«Sian? Torel? Hurry to the river. I'm sel'dor injured

«Thank the gods! Ravel, we can't reach anyone!»

Ravel frowned heavily. «I don't know why that is...but hurry, I'm by the river. A woman is with me. She removed the sel'dor without touching it. It's hard for me to explain. Please hurry.»

He could feel Sian's surprise but he quickly answered. «We have loads to tell you. But we can't here. We'll be there in a few chimes.»

Ravel sensed Angela's edginess. Her eyes watching and listening intently. He could not help recalling how her mother was cruelly fed to a lyrant. These parts are known for them. Additionally, it was getting darker. Holding a glass shard as a makeshift dagger in front of her she turned in the direction of the suspicious Fey warriors.

Ravel removed his hood. Seeing his compatriots relax made Angela, too.

"We need to hurry," Angela said quietly. "There are demons as well as lyrant in these parts. The Eld have brought them to terrorize the locals and to prevent messengers to King Dorian."

The Fey warriors stared at her as she carefully sheathed her glass shard. Her hands were badly bruised. Someone had beaten her if her defensive wounds are any indication. It made the Fey warriors sick to see how mortals treated their women.

"What?" Torel asked just as quietly as both warriors flanked Ravel.

Angela ignored them and pulled something from her belt. She walked toward the three of them and put a dab of ointment on Ravel's forehead. "Lean down." She commanded quietly to the other warriors. Ravel's eyes widened. It was a precious vial of anti-demon holy water dipped in a paste to preserve it longer. Angela acquired it from a traveling priest taking pity on her as she hysterically explained her parents' deaths from the lyrant. All the priest had on him was the vial and he gave it to the 'poor orphaned spinster girl.'

Both warriors looked ready to protest but she glared at them. "We've no time for this!" She hissed softly. "No doubt you've been spied on by now and the Eld have ordered an attack. I even knew of your existence this morn." She said sternly.

Obediently and reluctantly both warriors bowed as she used the last of her ointment. There was none for her.

"What about you?" Torel demanded quietly. She gave him a disarmingly calm smile. "I've already forfeited my life." She glanced at the river behind them. It was clear what she meant to do and it chilled the Fey. "Please, please give this to Lady Marissya. Tell her thank you from me. It's vital that the Fey fight and win against the new Eldan magic ―or whatever darkness―they're spreading." She passed them a few scrolls from under her torn skirt and attached it with twine around Ravel's chest. She stared at his violet eyes willing him to understand. She tore more scraps from her skirt and stuffed his wrists and ankles properly. Angela proceeded to tear apart her bundle and shredded it to make it look like an attack. Everything in that bundle was her livelihood. "Now go." She ordered softly.

"Absolutely not." Ravel hissed. "You're coming with us. No matter what we're going to be slow. And besides," he added seeing her shocked look. "You'll be killed or worse if you stay here. What's the harm in coming with us?"

You deserve our every regard for all you've done to aid the Fey. Ravel thought determinedly. He fully intended to perform a lute'asheiva bond with her once they were safely behind the Faering Mists. He believed she saved not one, but three Fey lives. The least they could do is offer her a new life.

Angela gulped. Don't cry in front of them. She commanded herself sternly. Blinking away tears. She gave a curt nod. "I can run fast." She said softly. Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "We need to go. Something's amiss." Her instincts were screaming at her to run.

The warriors shifted and Ravel said. "Take a few of my Fey'cha daggers." Angela gave him a confused frown. "They're better than your glass shard." She quickly discarded it next to her torn bundle. It looks authentic. She thought morbidly as she reeled from the prospect of living.

Shaking her head, Angela was suddenly grateful she had torn her skirt. She is uninhabited from running. Nodding at the warriors she jogged behind Ravel. Her determination willed her legs to move as the warriors jogged at a decent pace with their injured comrade. Her hands palmed the Fey'cha daggers. Her adrenaline pumped in her veins and throbbed in her neck. Angela smiled cagily. She was ready to stab a lyrant and watch Ravel's back. She could not help but feel appreciation at the feel and skill of the unknown Fey blacksmith's blades.

15 chimes later two Demons roared in displeasure. They could sense Fey but could not hunt them due to their limited territory and a putrid magic preventing their tracking capabilities. Encircling the area they snarled. There were other Eldan sources coming from the shadows. However, none could pass through the barrier protecting the Fey. They sold their souls for power.

Everything comes with a price.

They could not leave without a direct order from their master.

They sniffed the area. Lips curling. There is a woman's scent among them. It was among her things. Yet, the water diluted most of her scent and she was too near the Fey's protection.

They would mention this to the High Mage.