It only takes once, before a child's mind is split into two. Only one tragic event, one so traumatic that the child wishes for nothing more than to forget what they saw. It wasn't any different for those that could use magic, except that they would wish for someone to protect them. The few that were born tended to die at an early age, or grow old never knowing the power they held in their hands. Elva Vychód's only difference was who her father was. Lord Grádaigh Osten, the widower lord of Aurora. The bastard child and the only offspring of the man, she was brought back to Castle Soir immediately after the death of Lord Osten's wife. It was a decade or so before that when Elva first met Cretia. It was then that Elva learned exactly what she was.
Why won't they help me? Elva cried silent tears as she watched the people walk by the end of the alley. She had watched the same people go by every day since she could remember, and yet it had always been on opposite sides of an invisible wall. Please! She cried out, but the word made no sound. As her fear filled eyes watched the blade in the man's hand; she didn't simply wish for safety, nor the cold embrace of delirium. Elva wished for a voice, for someone to protect her, if she could not protect herself. It was then that Cretia first appeared, from the darkness of an alley, from the blood and rain that dripped onto the muddy road. It was Cretia that looked up at the man and smiled, despite the wound that now ran through her eye. It was she who tore the knife from his hand, slicing her hand in the process. The blood that dripped from her wounds seemed to freeze in the air around the man, scarlet droplets hovering despite the rain. When the man looked back at the girl, the eye that wasn't squeezed shut sparked with a fire no one had seen in years. There was no scream, there was no time for that; not against this 'red death' he faced. It only took a moment, the blink of an eye for the blood that hung in the air to spear the man from every direction. It was Cretia that turned and pulled Elva to her feet. It was she that healed the wounds and hid the scars behind an illusion. It was she that stepped over the body and walked Elva home. Then she was gone.