Sarah Z. Creates

In the World-Building Wednesday series, I’m doing just that: using writing prompts to flesh out Talah, one of the worlds in The Sundered Realms. This month’s series are fleshing out images of an origin story!

She was born of fire.

They had said that all her life: Azar, born of fire, as if she had inherited only her mother’s magic, and none of her father’s.

Except, she thought ruefully, I inherited none of either.

She dipped a toe into the icy stream, not even wincing at the cold. She probably needed to get used to it. Her father was welcoming a water faerie to his territory today, and water fae were not known for their warmth. Even those everyone expected to replace Azar’s long-dead mother.

A king needed a queen apparently. Especially when his only heir appeared to be as magic-less as a human.

Azar sighed and pushed her long golden hair back into its knot before it could drag in the water. Her only inheritance from her earth-mage father was this luxurious golden hair, full of fae gold.

And, as it was nearly impossible to cut, a rutting nuisance.

She hunched over the edge of the brook, her knees by her ears as she flattened her hands on the bed of the stream. It was cold enough that her fingers and toes were numb. She wished her heart was as easy.

Fae didn’t cluster together like humans did. And yet there was always someone in her father’s territory. Someone to whisper, and someone to hear.

First Daughter’s always inherited magic. Always. And anymore, that magic was always devastatingly strong, too.

Except for Azar.

Her fingers clenched awkwardly around the chill of her bones.

Half the whispers said she was a changeling, her father’s indiscretion hidden in plain sight.

“Azar!” The faint call tickled her ears, and Azar cocked her head to catch the call better. “Azaa-aaar!”

Ah. That was Tilda, the human who had raised Azar. Azar’s lips quirked at the irritation in Tilda’s voice. Tilda and Azar, equally magic-less, had no means of reaching each other other than good old-fashioned yelling.

Tilda hated it. Fumed over the indignity. How beneath the Earth princess’ dignity, to be hollered at like a dog.

But Azar would much rather traipse through the wild of her father’s domain than endure the pity and speculation of her father’s kinsmen.

So Tilda yelled a lot.

Azar glanced wistfully at the brook, burbling along its icy way into the gloom of the forest. She wished she could follow it to its end, wherever that was.

Tilda’s voice grew strong and more agitated.

Azar sighed and stood. It was time to return and practice fading into the background. And at least see this water faerie her father was courting.

She shivered and stepped carefully from the stream. She wasn’t sure that chill came only from the water.

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into The Sundered Realms! There’s plenty more to enjoy. In addition to these World-Building Wednesday posts, you can sign up for my newsletter to get a FREE short story from The Sundered Realms. Or stay connected via my Facebook page.