Читать книгу Silver - Susie Harris - Страница 6

I have not written in some time. I have not been totally idle in my absence. I did flit to my children and cast protection spells around their human bodies and their offspring and my human sister. Using fairy magic so as not to be traced by my brothers or sisters. Now no force but human weakness can harm them. That is if they send someone to hurt them that entity will just disappear to a place I have prepared for them. I have left a trigger so I will be notified of their arrival. If they try themselves….well let’s just hope for their sakes they don’t.

I continued to travel the ethereal world searching but to no avail just a feeling occasionally. So many frightened and lost souls in what used to be such a beautiful place. Now contaminated with whatever is eating this world’s soul. No answers.

I have been dwelling in my human life. It is somehow comforting, the day in day out of humanity.

There is so much waiting in your life. You wait for the sun to rise. Then you rise and wait for the coffee to boil. You wait for the time to get ready for your day. You then wait in your transport vehicle to get to your next destination whether that is work or dropping children. You wait for lights traffic etc. You do show frustration at it when it seems more than it should be. But for the most you just wait. This trait is solely yours. We never wait. We can flit to wherever we wish to be read minds to get answers or just think what we want and it will appear. We don't speak to each other vocally not because we can't, but because it takes too long to make the words audible. Less than seconds is too long. So the majority of the time we just read each other's thoughts. I think when I do start to talk with my brothers and sisters; this may be something I won’t do as much. I have learnt to like the audible word.

Patience. Even those of you who say you are impatient are nothing compared to my brothers and sisters..

So I believe that is one of the greatest gifts humanity has given me: patience. Your lives are so short just a blink of an eye really. A day in our lives and our Fathers would probably be more like a century in yours. But you don't dwell on that fact. You just live.

Being human is frustrating, tiring and oh so beautiful at times. You have these immense feelings of awe and wonder at a flower bud opening or the sun setting. It takes much more for me in my true form to have even the slightest reaction. Let alone amazement.

I believe the only time I have ever felt this in my true form was when I saw the fae. Not just the first time but every time since. Their true beauty is truly unimaginably breathtaking. I believe they have only appeared to humans dimmed. They believe that anything else might kill you and I am inclined to agree. The first time I saw Morgana in her true form. I could not move for several minutes. She shone like a star yet you could see every intricate detail of her form. Skin like gold dust, eyes like emeralds, hair that flowed like silk with soft silver running through it and wings as delicate as a butterfly yet so much more intrinsic. Just bringing her image to mind I feel like I have to remind myself to breathe. Each that I have met since are as beautiful as the last. We do not know where they came from or why they are here. We found them after coming to earth by chance. Our Father was not surprised to learn of their existence so perhaps he made them too.

They are truly magical creatures. They keep to themselves the majority of the time. Oh they have messed with your lives on occasion but only when one of you is silly enough to ask. A favor from the fae should never be taken lightly. The cost is always so much more than you realize.

As Vlad Dracul could attest to if ever you have the opportunity to converse with him. But I suggest at a very safe distant. All he wanted was to avenge the loss of his family and save his people. He did not realize this would cost him his human life and eventually his soul. He can never die there is nothing that can kill him now. But his offspring can still die from a stake through the heart or the sun. Although if you are to believe some of the books written recently even some of his oldest children can now never die. I believe he finally has just taken to sleep for at least the past century maybe two.

Then of course the werewolves. Silvermist gave them their gift to defend against the vampires but once again never explained the cost. At one stage the vampires used them as slaves. I believe they have gone their separate ways now but there is certainly no love lost between the two families.

There have been many of these gifts given through time. All of which I can say with great certainty are not what the asker asked for.

I said before they keep to themselves. They truly do; their bloodline is pure. There has never been a mixed blood child from any fairy encounter whether it is human or ours. Not for lack of trying on our behalf. My brothers were enthralled with these beings for many centuries. Michael followed Morgana around like a puppy. She allowed his advances and on more than one occasion shared her bed. I think that it is possible for the bloods to mix. But they don't allow it.

Michael told me she always drank from a small bottle before they connected. He believed that stopped conception from occurring.

Another strange thing is none of us have ever seen a pregnant fae. Gabriel says he saw a fae child once but never a mother. I don't think any of us actually believe him. They never seem to age or even tire. I have only ever seen one tired fae. Nismoth and it wasn't long after that she just disappeared. I asked Morgana but she never answered me.

Fae have limitations in their magic. They cannot create life. They can borrow it from other life forms or take it but they cannot create it. This is our limitation to but we are not just magical beings. We are connected to the source. Humans don’t create life either our father sends the essence into the cells through the source. Gabriel had a theory that that is why you never saw a pregnant fae because they must give up their essence to pass on to the next generation. I thought at the time it was as good a theory as any.

They speak only truth but always in a riddle. Poetry or lyrics. One can never be sure of what they have said. But in my dealings with them they have always been trustworthy with secrets. Nothing I have ever said to one has ever been repeated to my knowledge. So perhaps I should visit them soon. I’m not sure yet. The darkness I feel; I don’t want it to spread to their world. If it hasn’t already.