I grew up in a world of magic. By the time I was ten I understood nature, talked to the trees, and listened to the wind. When the kingdom of men conquered my town, I was murdered by one of my own—the betrayer of my kind. But I didn't stay dead.I woke to
I have no idea who I am anymore.In Los Angeles, I would have given anything to go home to Orenda, my world where magic was alive and nature spoke to me. Now that I'm back I feel out of place, burdened with responsibility. The human part of me misses the s
Fairytales don’t always happen once upon a time. Fables don’t always have a happy ending. Sometimes the stories we love are too dark for nightmares. What if waking Sleeping Beauty was the worse thing the Prince could have done? What if Rapunzel wasn't
