Caught between Realms

What dreams may come… a wonderful movie, inspired by an amazing novel. Within the sequences that unfold on screen or the message sequestered deep inside the book, our minds are children looking for the next adventure. Throughout the past decade, or two, or three, there have been a palethora of novels inspiring screenwriters to help on person’s creative realm, living within their mind, make the jump to screen play. The world fell in love with a shimmering vampire. Millions have become fanatics of a boy with a lightening bolt scar upon his brow.

Like Harry, I too had kept hidden away my true self. The passion that drives my desire to be set free like a butterfly trapped within a thick cocoon. Often in my dreams visages of life like scenes take place, leaving me in doubt of reality versus fiction. Never have I been so in love with a character, that it brings me joy just thinking about what she will do next. A part of me feels her pain and suffering as she endures on parchment. But seeing her grow and become whom she was destined to become sets me free, breaking my creative desire out of its shell.

As massive of a staple J.K Rowling has become in the literary world, I too seek such a platform. Seeing what she has done with her work, bringing it to the big screens, transforming her characters into toys for children, providing a design for clothing and inspiration, has further fueled my passion to bring my Faerylea to a life beyond that of paper and ink. The novel series itself is 6 books, with another 7 novellas.

In life either as a child, adolescent, adult, or elderly, we are faced with distraught times. Those moments we find ourself wanting to escape, looking for others who are going threw similar pain. But there is not a place, or book, for everyone to escape into, leaving behind momentarily their pain or sadness. Genoa is that place for all ages.

Beginning with the creation of the novels and novellas, an editor is needed to help bring out the most in the life of Faerylea. Devising a strong marketing plan to lift the troubled Fairy off of the ground and into the sky would follow suit while obtaining a publisher. Once the books are out and in the hands of the readers, making a push for screenplay (Netflix at the very least) would lead to the fashion industry.

While being profitable and successful is the plan, the grand scheme of it all is to bring happiness and excitement into the hearts of young readers as they fall in love with the main character. Without them, Disney would not have been as successful and just like Walt Disney, I pull my inspiration from my children as well. Which leads me to how Faerylea came about. Jasmine.

While it is a creeping vine or bush, with a scented white flower, it is also a child’s name. My offspring to be exact. She is an avid reader and itches to pick up the next book while closing out her current novel. The creativity that pours from her heart and soul, inspires me to develop a universe withn the literary world for everyone to fall in love with and enjoy. Please enjoy the Epilogue of the first book on the brinks of completion:

Flames of an unkept fire flailed about like a leather whip gliding through the air. Its fury raged within the bowels of the molten river that spewed from the mouth of a lone palisade. As the heavens fought above, the land wept—spilling its tears from the base of the mountain. Through the years, the war between light and dark carried on, creating the realm that its inhabitants shall come to know as Genoa. But the creation did not stop after the battle had ended. Banishment of evil and its kind was only the beginning.

As fire and tears mixed, born was the atmosphere and its tasteless air as the steam rose, covering the land mass that crept below it. With the surrendering of molten lava rising to the surface, trying to cauterize the wound formed during evil’s banishment, land formed as the tears once again washed over the river of fire, solidifying the aqueous state. Upon completion of evil’s prison, it sent five orbs of power down from the heavens. Each one came bearing a living soul, embodied by that of a fairy.

One of Life.

One of Transformation.

One of Winter.

One of Royalty.

One of both the Beginning and the End—split in twine. As the fifth orb of power split, a cataclysmic ravine carved itself into the world of Genoa. Imps and Golems crawled from the belly of the beast, unleashing death and fury upon the land. The state of the prison weakened, allowing evil to once again seek freedom. But he was weak, and without an army. For nearly a thousand years, the throne of the Imp Lord had been vacant, awaiting the heir—Lord Giz’Yik. Word of their Lord’s escape brought Drake and Jac’Kyll to his aid, rescuing him from certain damnation at the hands of the Life Fairies as they converged upon his position. They did not find the Lord that day, but what they found was the beginning of the end.

Waking up to the ambient sounds—native to these parts—brought a sensation of placidity to a child once lost, struggling to find her belonging both spiritually and physically. Branches grinding against one another, shedding its bark like a bird flocking. A mirage of white silk, flowing down an uneven pathway riddled with fallen debris that had descended upon the forest floor. It weaved, swirled, rose, and fell, spreading out beyond the child’s undeveloped sight. The fog touched every tree trunk as though it were leaving them behind with a soft, slow, gentle kiss—not passionate enough to expect another kiss, but enough to mean thank you. Through the caliginous atmosphere the child shall become an adolescent, resting her heels upon the threshold of destiny.

Weary leaves flowed over her head, tightening up into a small twister just above before dispersing and falling aside. When the breeze regained its breath, the leaves picked up where it left off, rising from beneath an opaque spread, swirling, twirling, and gliding out into the darkness. They disappeared for good; at least from her eyes. She was cold. She was without fear.

A whisper channeled through the boskage, resonating from one tree to the next. As the bruit approached the child, it split into several voices, making the message indiscernible.  Someone or something was out there beyond a single obelisk—missing its apex—in its own rubble. But yonder of the small ruin a baneful atmosphere shifted about like a whispering willow caught between winds cascading down from the north and whirling up from the south.

The voices gave rise to every hair upon the child’s arms. Fear had no home within, or her legs would have said otherwise—they stood unwavering, like a mountain nestled within a rolling plain. Beaten. Bruised. Battered from her stumble down the steep slope guarding her backside. It was a landslide that brought her to this esoteric ravine. There was nowhere to go but through the darkness, deep down a fogged covered path, weaving through a broken fence line of trees, wrapping around the obelisk. Destiny awaited her in the shadows, reaching out with lust and resentment. 

Each murmur echoing in the ravine grew, simultaneously reaching for her. They washed over one another, blending little by little until becoming one.

“… Dear child…. This is no place for you….“

“Who are you? What do you want?” She asked.

“Find me beyond the realm traversed by only the blind….”

“But I cannot see past the ruins…”

“In the darkness you will not need your sight….”

The child worried as terror crept into her heart, tugging at her throat.

“Come find me, child… I will make lost no more…”

With every word whispered, they slowly faded away as though retreating to the one who spoke them.

“Come… find… me-e… child.”

“Wait... Don’t leave me—alone.”

A piece of foliage shaped like a star weaved and twirled, carried by the very breath all the creatures on Genoa inspired. The child stood, toes over the edge of the cliff side, peering out over the chasm where the light illuminated a portion of the vast depth. Beneath her feet the cliff side gave way, sending the child down deep into the darkness. When she vanished, the light receded, escaping back to the heavens.

“Now we wait.” Spoke the voice once again.

A silhouette, hiding in the shadows, emerged, allowing what ample light to outline his profile.

“No, not wait, but hope. Hope that she finds her way. Hope that she is of the light, and not of the darkness.”

“And if she is the latter?”

“Then this realm will be no more my Queen. It shall become death, and pain, and suffering. All life, and peace shall burn in the fiery bowels that whence the Imp Lord had birthed from.”

A lone tear drop, glistening from the residual amber glow reflecting from the pale orange orb of power, descended along the Queen’s cheek.

“Hope it is then, Protector.”

He bowed his head partially, turning to escape back into the shadows.

“Wait-“

“Yes, my Queen?”

“I have considered your debt fulfilled. No longer are you required to protect the Queen of Genoa.”

His shoulders dropped—weighed down by the pain of rejection. The burden he had carried, seeing through for the better half of his life, suddenly abolished. But where will he go?  Where shall he live? During a time of conflict, a sprite shouldn’t be alone to fend for themselves as they are not of fairy breed, nor smelted from the very molten river the imps gaine life from. A fine line, they walk upon the scales of light and darkness. Without guidance they shall surely falter into the darkness, becoming a Golem. He fell to his knees, landing before the feet of the Queen.

“You actions may set me free, but surely it will bring me death. I know no difference from that of light or darkness when walking my path. Through obedience and guidance shall I only be able to follow the light. Please, my Queen, I beg you to not release me of debt owed.”

The Queen placed a hand upon the back of the protector’s cowl, bending down to lift him to his feet by placing her other hand beneath his chin.

“Rise Fae’Dryriul.”

With one foot in front of the other, he rose to stand, placing a hand upon the wrist of the Queens forearm. He looked into her eyes, finding forgiveness.

“Call me Tel’yria, for I am no longer your Queen.”

“But I don’t understand...”

Queen Tel’yria leaned forward, placing her head next to Fae’Dryriul’s ear.

“You will. But not today, for you do not belong in Genoa until the child returns.”

“Wait, no, don’t!”

In the blink of an eye, Fae’Dryiul found himself weightless—after Queen Tel’yria pushed him off the cliff and into the abyss below, following behind the child. 

“Your debt shall be a gift to the child. You shall lend your protection to her where she may be. Upon laying your life down for hers shall your debt become fulfilled, and only then will it be.”

“My QUEEEeeeeeeennnnnnn.......”

Tel’yria—Queen of the Life Fairies—turned to walk away, hanging her head low.

“Today I shall mourn in my chambers without disruption, for not only have I lost a child, but a betrothed as well.”

Two rows of fifteen soldiers, every one of them bearing the crest of the Life Tree, saluted the Queen, bringing an iron clad fist to their chest, speaking in unison.

“My Queen!”