For some unknown reason I cannot sleep. The wooden tiles covering the floor fetch my eyes as a small bug crawled across it, but that's not the reason I cannot sleep. The slight sound of dripping water in the bathroom seeps in through my heart. This altar is my paradise -- and my chamber. There is only one person lying on the bed; Me. That is not the reason why I cannot sleep either.

Waving curtains and night surround my bed. My melody is in my mind. I close my eyes for no reason. Solitude remains.

For some unknown reason I cannot sleep. I open my eyes and get up. The floral water in the large earthen bowl has been there since this morning. I step into the bathroom and begin to undress. Sitting on a rock on the bathroom floor, I splash myself, scoop by scoop.

With the bathing ritual finished, I get up and stand still, facing the mirror. I'm shivering. The breeze coming from the bathroom ventilation brushes the floral scent all over my body. But that's not the reason I'm shivering. I'm shivering inside, just like my father had when he was afraid to lose my mother.; or just as Lisa had when she almost lost her hair. Only I don't know what I'm feeling at the moment.

I look deeper into the mirror, right into the eyes. The face gets clearer in my eyes, clearer and then blurry, blurrier. Refraction: there are almost two faces now. No, there are two persons from the one face in the mirror. I close my eyes. There was something about me I had miss. All along I had thought I knew myself, but secretly I was already labeled something far from what I had imagined.

I opened my eyes and quickly slipped on clothes from the closet near by. Pulling the strands of my wet white hair back into a bun before stepping back into my bedroom.

For some unknown reason I cannot sleep. The breeze from outside the open window attacks me ceaselessly. My bedroom windows, my paradise windows.

I descended to earth as carefree; flowing like water in the river; easy going and looking forward to what's gonna happen when I'm already there in the moment -- and not beforehand -- to love anything that can be considered art, to be idealistic and at heart a perfectionist, to be free but secure and yet not to be so certain. I was born to doubt everything. But now I was full of certainity.

Laying myself back on my bed I try to fill my mind with doubt. Doubt that the story was true; Doubt that I was born to be a dark mage; Doubt that Zeref would ever be ressurected; Doubt that I did not love Triston.

I open my eyes, I hear light knocks on the window, they sound more like hardened rain. My mind is on the blink. I roll off the bed and draw back my curtains.

He stands there on my balchony, quietly, letting the wind blow through his blue hair. Taking a step forward, filling in the small distance, unexpectedly pulled me close to his strong warm body. I could hear his heartbeat merging with my own. My heart beat loud and passionate against his chest.

Our bodies pressed in a tight embrace. His soft lips touched my forehead while his free hand brushed my cheek. I looked up to him and he leaned his head down, soflty and gently, he pressed his lips against mine.

Hot as the sun - Sweet as honey - Brillant as the stars - Delicious as chocolate - Deep as the Mariana Trench - Long as the sky that never ends - Stimulating as the hunger for love - Burning as the passion that lives in me - A kiss full of emotion and beauty.

Triston pulled back, eyes still closed, as a smile formed from the corner of his lips. Slowly coming open, he blinks curiously over my head, "Your hair." He mutters.

I run my hand over the top of my head, squeezing my bun of hair for some imperfection. He reached over my head, slipping the crystal pin out of my hair. The wet strands fell onto my neck and I shivered from the cold air.

He pulled his hand back holding a chunk of blue string. I starred, dumb founded. Lifting the dripping wet strings from his hand my eyes widen as I came to relization that it was my hair. I looked up to him, hoping for an answer.

Triston was grinning widely, "I like it," He says, "It's like the color of my magic."

I blinked, "How am I going to explain this to everyone else?"

Triston's hand slid down slowly towards my palm. Warm strong fingers lightly slipped between my fingers. Flustered, I looked down to our intertwined hand, "If anyone asks about your hair," He started, "You can say, 'It's because I love him.'"

 

Above, the sun passes behind a patch of grey clouds, the world beneath darkens. Suddenly, however, bright glows emerge, sparks of light. The trees leaves were still and sombre clouds rolled in with sinister intention from the west, accompanied by a sullen, threatening roar. The past few days had been gloom, and even I began to believe the false threats that the skies pretensed.

I found a snail sluggishly climbing down the palace stairs. He was making his way towards some bushes, and for a moment I considered just plucking him from the steps and carrying him to his goal. But he seemed so absorbed in his travels, I wondered if my assistance would offend him. There was a sense of pride in the snail's movements, and I was so intrigued by the courageous effort, I watched his entire journey.

The snail's pace was remarkable. He glided along peacefully and somewhat effortlessly. The wind blew and the clouds threatened us with rain, but the snail remained impassive. Slowly, but determinedly, he marched on towards the bushes. He drifted along the surface, climbing over the glossy carved details of the floor, driven all the while by his unyielding passion for food.

On the back of this little creature rested a shell, bulky and magnificent. How noble he looked carrying this awkward, swirling boulder. The shell was scratched and chipped from occasional slips and falls. It was tan and sprinkled with dark spots along the creases. As he made his way down the corner of the steps and onto the side of my house, the shell flopped slightly forward, but his grip was unaffected.

The snail's skin was a dull, brownish color; the texture was bumpy, veiled in slime, and as he moved it glittered in the light. Tentacles stuck out from his blockish head and stretched vigorously forward as if pulled by some magnetic force. At the tips were small bulbs that encased his beady eyes. His mouth gaped open slightly and folded inwards as though at one time he may have had teeth. At the back, his long flattish body came to a subtle point and dragged along lazily.

The snail made his way down the side of my house and across to the dirt trail. I watched, in awe, the determined creature force his way through nature and demand his right to feast on the plants at the back of my yard. A fierce wind blew against him and his tentacles quivered slightly. He continued to float gracefully over dirt and debris, and eventually he vanished into an abyss of leafs where he will gorge himself victoriously.

Suddenly I felt a warm hand touch upon my shoulder, I looked up to my mothers gentle smile.

My mother was a beautiful woman; Early-thirties. She had a radiant smile; A precious laugh; A sweet voice; Angelic pipes; Godlden cloud like hair that hung down her cruvy body; Her woredrobe contained a variety of dresses, usually white or pink. The only thing you'd catch her wearing more than once, was the green emblem she kept strung around her neck.

She sat down beside me on the side steps of our house, reaching for my blue hair in curiosity. I waited patiently as she examined it between her fingers. Letting it drop back onto my shoulder she grinned at me, "Triston is an ice maker if I'm not mistaken." I blushed, "Your father is a summoner. His strongest summoner is the gold knight armor." She explained, pulling her golden her in front of her, "He was my first kiss you know."

"Why does our hair do that?"

My mom flipped her hair back behind her shoulder and scratched her eyebrow - an old habit she does when she has to think about something. She let her eyes rest on mine, "It's called Embib." I blinked curiously at her, "It's a type of magic that absorbs others powers. It's a unique magic, and very rare. May even say a lost magic."

"Can you teach me?"

"This magic," My mother whispered, leaning closer to me, "musn't be taken lightly Aurora. There are people out there who would take you and force you to use it against everyone you love. You are strong, and have learned transportation and creation magic over the years. There really is no need for you to use this magic. But," She continued, "It would be wrong of me to not teach you what's rightfully yours. If you learn this magic, you have to promise me you'll only use it in emergencys."

A smile spread across my face and I wrapped my arms around my mother, "Thank you."

She my hair, "You're welcome honey." She hummed before I pulled away, straightening myself.

I sighed, lightly smiling, "How's dad holding up?"

"I had to talk him out of going to murder Triston. He doesn't hate the boy, just afraid of losing his little girl," She laughed, "We just feel like we had so little time to be with you. Already seventeen, but we feel as if you're only ten."

"Mom, just because I only lived here for ten years doesn't mean I'm ten." I laughed, "Besides. It's not like Triston and I are getting married tomorrow."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into an embrace. Rubbing the back of my head as if I was a crying child. I allowed it, hugging her back tightly.

She inhaled loosening her grip before pulling back to look at me. She moved a strand of my hair out my face and brushed my shoulders off.

"There's something else I have to tell you. Your father is sending members of the Neir guild to the Tower of Heaven they discovered out in sea."

"Neir?" I questioned, "But they're the royal guild. Why would he send them?"

"The Tower of Heaven is something we are trying to keep away from the people of Fiore. If words spread, people will panic. Dark guilds will rise and make the journey to the Tower even more difficult than it already may be. We must use our guild for this." She explained, putting her hand on my shoulder for comfort.

"And Triston ..." My mother nodded her head and I felt my muscles tense.