Normal is just a setting on the washing machine. Life's colors are found in the spin cycle of quirks and oddities.
I woke up in the morning, my eyes heavy with unshed tears. I had dreamed of Alistair.
He was sitting quietly on the grass, lost in a book. His presence was noble, serene, and impossibly beautiful, as if he belonged to a different realm altogether. Sometimes, he felt so distant, as though an entire world stretched between us. I always found myself wondering, almost without meaning to, if I could touch him if I reached out. And now... he was so far away that I knew I could never touch him again. I closed my eyes to shut out the ache.
The spring breeze played through his golden hair, teasing it gently as it brushed against his cheeks. It seemed as though even the branches of the tree leaned toward him, offering their shade. The grass beneath him grew softer, more silken, as though it longed to caress his pale skin.
The flowers tilted their heads toward him, their fragrance intensifying in an attempt to draw his attention. Nature itself seemed to favor him, as though the world conspired to surround him with beauty. Though he was aware of my presence, he finished the page he was reading before looking up at me.
When his grey eyes met mine, that subtle smile tugged at the corners of his lips—the one I had always adored. Even as a child, I had felt privileged to witness it, like I was the only one in the world allowed to see him like this.
I longed to sit beside him, but with a gentle wave of his hand, he stopped me and nodded toward the other side. Confused, I glanced around, my eyes falling on a tiny white flower nestled among the grass. Understanding his silent request, I sat down beside him, knowing how much he cherished flowers.
"I hate them," I murmured quietly.
Alistair didn't question me. He never did. He didn't need to. He just listened, offering his wisdom when I sought it, and never pressing for more than I was willing to share.
I never had to explain what had happened. The hunters always found a way to kick me when I was down, even when I gave them no reason to. Despite carrying out my tasks perfectly, they rewarded me with nothing but disdain. It was as if they wanted me to fail. And when I returned, having survived yet another ordeal, they were disappointed—because I was still alive.
"I'll kill them," I said, my voice cold with resolve. "All of them."
Alistair didn't try to stop me, didn't shout at me. He simply listened, his silence heavy with understanding.
"I like humans, Shay," he said quietly, his voice as smooth and reassuring as ever, the way it always was when I sought comfort.
"Why?" I demanded, the anger rising in my chest.
I couldn't comprehend how he could like them. Humans were weak, fragile, fallible—everything I despised. They hated me because I was stronger because I was different. What could possibly be captivating about such imperfect creatures?
"Humans are like flowers," he answered, his voice calm and patient. "Fragile, fleeting, short-lived, and that's what makes them beautiful. They are unique, and that's why you never tire of watching them."
"I don't understand you," I muttered, frustration creeping into my voice. But he just smiled, that soft, knowing smile.
"One day, you will," he said, his voice unwavering with certainty. "The most beautiful thing about humans is that, even if you trample them, they rise again. Just like flowers bloom again after being crushed. It's in their nature to persevere, to fight. Their struggles may seem insignificant compared to ours, but like us, they fight every day, against everything. They are weaker than us, yet they keep fighting. Don't you think that's amazing?"
"The weak are weak," I answered stubbornly. "There's nothing admirable about weakness."
He chuckled, a quiet sound of amusement. Then he looked at me, and for the first time, I saw the smile in his grey eyes. My heart skipped a beat as I realized what I was seeing. It wasn't just the curve of his lips—it was in his eyes, too. Alistair reached out and brushed his fingers over my cheek, and in that moment, I knew that the tenderness he showed wasn't for me. I felt a pang of recognition, and I knew—he wasn't looking at me at all.
It was as if, in that instant, he had pulled away from a dream. His fingers trembled as they withdrew from my skin, as though my touch had burned him. I didn't understand it at the time, and I wasn't sure who he had seen instead of me. He closed his book with a soft sigh.
"Once upon a time," he began thoughtfully, "there lived a lonely fae king. This king was different from the other fae."
"In what way?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. It was rare for Alistair to tell legends and sagas with such insight.
"This fae had no understanding of cruelty."
I frowned, puzzled.
"But, Al," I said slowly, "didn't you tell me fae are cruel by nature? That cruelty is in their blood?"
Alistair nodded, his expression thoughtful.
"At first, no one noticed this," he continued. "In fact, because the fae had such immense power, he was chosen by his people to be king."
"What power did he have?" I asked eagerly, my eyes wide with excitement.
Alistair's lips curled into a faint smile as he leaned back, clearly amused by my enthusiasm. He answered with a calm patience that made the story even more captivating.
"All the elementals obeyed this fae. The wind creatures caressed his skin, the water creatures painted rainbows across the sky to enchant him, the flame creatures conjured fire but never let it burn him, and the earth creatures grew vibrant flowers wherever he went. Because of this, the other fae worshipped their king, calling him 'Son of the Sun Goddess.'"
I couldn't help but grin, my childlike wonder taking over. This was by far the most fascinating legend I had ever heard about fae. Even at my young age, I knew just how incredible it was for a fae to have the elementals bowing to him. Most fae could sense the elementals, and some even formed lifelong bonds with one. But to be recognized by all the elementals at once? That was extraordinary.
"This fae king, however, perhaps because of his immense power, was quite lonely," Alistair continued, his voice soft and steady. "Though everyone among the fae adored him, many would have gladly given their lives for a single glance, and countless others surrounded him, no one could truly understand him."
"Why?" I asked, confusion furrowing my brow.
Alistair smiled, a bittersweet expression. "Because, despite his power, his heart was moved by the weak."
The surprise of his words hit me so hard that I let my lips part.
"What?"
"Though the other fae were fascinated by him, their admiration never made them question their lord—who never harmed a single human," Alistair explained. "And when no one was watching, this foolish king would sneak out of his palace and seek the company of common humans."
I held my thoughts back, but my growing discomfort was clear on my face. Alistair noticed and chuckled, as though he had expected this reaction.
"What for?" I asked, though I already disliked where the story was heading.
Alistair's voice was gentle but knowing. "No one knows for sure. Perhaps he sought the company of humans to ease his loneliness. Perhaps he longed for a break from those who blindly worshipped him and wanted to talk to people who saw him as just another stranger."
I frowned, still unable to understand.
"But it could also be that this king simply loved humans," Alistair continued. "Perhaps that's why, when the hunters fought against the fae, this king ordered his army to halt and begged the humans to retreat."
I sighed in disbelief, my frustration bubbling up.
"Silly story," I muttered, the words escaping in a growl.
"Do you think so?" Alistair asked, his lips curling into a faint smile.
"Yes," I replied firmly. "This king wasn't strong—he was weak. And a weak king can only bring misery to his people."
Alistair closed his eyes for a moment, the quiet sorrow never leaving the edges of his smile.
"You are right," he said softly. "This king brought nothing but suffering to his people."
I nodded, a sense of satisfaction filling me. I was certain that such a story could only end in disaster.
"So, what happened next?" I asked, my voice uninterested.
"The battle was inevitable," Alistair continued. "The hunters attacked, and the fae executed them."
I nodded again, though my thoughts were elsewhere.
"On that bloody night, the king abdicated his throne to his siblings and disappeared forever with the first ray of dawn. Even though they often disagreed with his decisions, all fae mourned their ruler for seven days and nights," Alistair finished.
I frowned. "Why did you tell me this story?"
All of Alistair's tales had a lesson, but this one? I couldn't see what I was supposed to learn from this foolish king.
Alistair smiled softly. "I think there should be at least one king like that."
"A king who protects humans?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.
He nodded slowly. "Yes."
I hummed, a noncommittal sound escaping my lips. I didn't want to challenge him, not when I could see the rare tenderness in his grey eyes.
For a moment, his gaze softened even further, and I could see that rare warmth, that deep affection I only glimpsed occasionally. He reached out and stroked my hair.
"Perhaps one day, you will be the one to decide the fate of humans," he said quietly. "If that happens, I don't want you to be blinded by your hatred of the hunters."
I wanted to swat his hand away, the mention of the hunters a sharp sting in my chest, but I didn't. It was so rare for Alistair to show concern for me with a simple gesture of touch, and I didn't want to ignore it. I wanted to cherish it while the touch lasted.
Instead, I exhaled through my nose, watching his smile, trying to commit it to memory. It was wide, unguarded—a smile I'd never seen before. A smile I wanted to hold onto.
"Always remember, Shay," he continued, his voice low and full of weight. "You are not fae, nor a vampire, and you are not human either. You stand at the edge of everything. But that is why you are free to choose where you belong. Perhaps you can bring the change that no one else can."
I mumbled something unintelligible, unsure of how to respond.
Alistair's hand lingered for a moment longer in my hair before he withdrew, his eyes never leaving mine. His words hung in the air, heavy and uncertain, like an offering I wasn't sure how to accept.
"I don't know about all that," I muttered, shifting my gaze to the ground. "Seems like a lot to ask of anyone."
But Alistair only smiled again, this time softer, almost wistful. "It doesn't have to be a burden, Shay. Not if you don't make it one."
I stayed silent, thinking about what he'd said—about the edge I stood on, about the freedom to choose where I belonged.
"You'll figure it out," he said simply, his tone reassuring. "We all do, eventually."
I let out a short laugh, though it felt more like a sigh, "Maybe."
Alistair's eyes sparkled, a glint of mischief in them as he tilted his head. For a moment, I allowed myself to believe him. Just for a moment. Then I turned away but I held onto that brief warmth, that rare softness he'd given me.