Part 1:

Lyre stood on a solid boulder, looking down upon the vast valley below. A river ran through, and she could hear its mighty roar all the way up above. Surrounding the river, there were trees, and Lyre knew them to be tall and vast, but from all the way on her boulder they looked like nothing more than the smallest piece of broccoli.
She waited, though her heart thumped with anticipation. Aurelius had told her to fly over as soon as she could, for the ships of Lord Kaiis would be coming through soon. Lyre continued to glance anxiously down, constantly tense and ready to grasp her bow.
She fluttered her blue-tinged wings nervously. What if Aurelius and the rest of the troops weren’t ready to attack? What if Lord Kaiis was ready for them?
“No,” thought Lyre firmly, beginning to pace anxiously on her boulder, ignoring the heat of it on her bare feet. They must take back the Fairies’ Kingdom. That awful human! They lived in peace with them up until Kaiis took over Lordship of Berrack, the human Kingdom.
Lyre heard something and stopped in her tracks, listening with all her might. Yes, yes, it sounded like men, the calls of men. Slowly, as if they would actually hear her, Lyre removed her bow from its place around her shoulder. Careful not to get it caught around her wings or tangled in her golden locks, she readied the bow and cautiously grasped one of her arrows. She set it upon her bow, drawing the string back and turning to the ship. As soon as she was sure that it wasn’t the Fairies’ battleship, the tip of her arrow set afire. Lyre released the string.
She stepped back from the edge of the rock and watched. The arrow had hit. The battle began now.
Lyre set another fiery arrow into the sky and bellowed, “IT HAS BEGUN!” Her mighty shout was magnified, due to her magic. Keeping hold of the bow in case she should be in need of it, Lyre listened for the calls of the other Fairies.
She heard them, a musical sound coming from the wooded hills on the other side of the forest. At least a hundred, perhaps more, Fairies charged from it, shouting battle cries. Lyre shouted with them and flew across, watching the enemy’s ship closely as if to dare it to try and shoot her.
Just as Lyre crossed and was settling slowly to the ground with the rest of her kind, the enemy shot a fiery cannonball across the river. There were some fearful screams and other furious shouts as the cannonball landed. Lyre flew ahead, and saw that the fire was already beginning to spread.
“Who is injured?” she called to no one in particular. There couldn’t be dead so early in the battle….Please don’t let there be…..
“Looks like Aurelius and Oriole, everyone else flew away in time,” yelled a Fairy promptly.
Lyre landed in shock. Not Aurelius…..Oh, not Aurelius. “Are they alright?” Lyre asked, her heart beating so fast that she feared that she may faint.
“Oriole has a burn on her leg and Aurelius……Well……He is already being flown to the tent for the injured.”
Lyre’s already fair face went paper white. Aurelius wouldn’t want me to visit him; Aurelius would want me to lead the battle troops, thought Lyre as convincingly as she could. Aurelius would have to wait, although as Lyre faced the enemy ship and readied her bow with the rest of the Fairies, she couldn’t get his smiling pale face out of her mind, with his forever messy black hair and twinkling dark blue eyes.
Rather distractedly, Lyre shot her arrow at the ship. Not another cannon, not another cannon……
BOOM. Another cannon.
To Lyre’s immense relief, everyone was expecting it and got out of the way this time. She hovered in midair. The other Fairies had already put out the previous fire, but this one was larger than the previous.
“FRONT GROUP, DOWN TO THE SHIP!” yelled Lyre. There were battle cries all round as Lyre and around fifty other Fairies flew down to the ship, bows and arrows readied. Some even had swords.
“Don’t fire till my say-so!” called Lyre, hovering and holding back her string. They positioned over the ship, Lyre’s heart racing at a million miles per hour. Just one more second…….
“FIRE!”
Forty fiery arrows shot downwards at the ship. Lyre heard the enemy’s screams from below, and she almost felt sorry. No….They are attacking my country, I cannot think this way, thought Lyre as she looked away.
Cheers sounded like bells around Lyre, and she smiled for a moment. The ship was afire, and all the enemy’s troops were leaping off into the river. Some were swept away, others struggled across. Many made it onto the shore, panting and heaving from what Lyre could tell in the sky. They rose, and began to charge up to the rest of the Fairies.
“Back to the other side!” bellowed Lyre. She flew, the wind whipping her hair back and billowing her white sleeves. Please don’t let this be the last time I fly, thought Lyre. The enemy seemed to be ignoring them, for the hill was very steep.
Thankful for the time, Lyre led the rest up to the top, where the others who stayed on ground were shooting their bows and the others ready with swords and daggers should the time come.
As Lyre’s group landed, Lyre heard Krellor (the leader of the Fairies on the ground since Aurelius was injured) yelling for the Fairies with swords to try and keep the enemy off of the hill. They all charged, and amongst them Lyre saw Tifa, one of her closest friends, charging with her prized sword in hand.
Aurelius is already injured; please don’t let another friend be hurt too! thought Lyre desperately as she landed gingerly on the ground, already drawing back on her string with her arrow set. Arrows shot all round. Lyre saw an orange light headed towards her out of the corner of her eye, and next thing she knew her face felt as if it were melting.
She collapsed, dropping her tools and screaming in pain as she clutched the side of her face as if it would stop the pain.
“Lyre! Lyre! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-I really didn’t!” cried a man’s voice. The pain was blinding her, so she couldn’t see who it was, but his hands were gentle as she was scooped up. Soon gentle winds were blowing around her delicate face as she whimpered. She refused to remove her hand from her cheek, as if afraid it would catch fire if she did.
Next thing she knew, she was being set onto a soft bed and hands were gingerly removing her hands from her cheek.
“No!” moaned Lyre, trying to hang on.
“Now, now, I will get some herbs that will help it go away,” said a kindly woman’s voice. Reluctantly, Lyre moved her hands and heard a gasp.
“What? Is….Is my face alright?” asked Lyre faintly, now getting concerned.
“Erm-Yes dear. I should be able to heal it…..It’s just that…Erm….Well, you will most likely have a scar,” said the Fairy. She put some dreadful smelling cream on her cheek. It was soothing, but Lyre thought that she could do without the smell.
Lyre’s eyelids fluttered open. “How bad is it?” she asked. The old Healer set the cream aside, wiped off her hands with a small towel and pushed back stray gray hairs from her face, and Lyre could now see that pity was etched in every wrinkle as she looked down at her.
“How bad is it?” Lyre repeated, now sitting up. The Healer pressed gently on Lyre’s shoulders to lay her back down.
“I’ll get you the mirror.” The Healer went to Lyre’s bedside table and pulled a large, circle shaped handle out of the drawer. Despite her unhappiness, Lyre had to admire the way the rubies on the handle glimmered and the beautiful paintings of Fairies and dragons on the back. The Healer solemnly handed Lyre the mirror. Lyre gasped.
The burn was awful. It was a pinkish red and took up almost the whole left side of Lyre’s face, except for the part around her eye. It reached around and curved slightly under her chin just below her mouth. It already seemed healed though, and it didn’t hurt.
“Oh,” Lyre breathed as she stared at her reflection. She slowly touched her burn with her beautiful fingertips. “Oh.”
The Healer took the mirror out of her hands, and Lyre let it go. Lyre wasn’t vain, but she preferred her old face to this ugly new one. Her hands plopped to her sides and she rested her head on her pillow, looking up at the old Fairy Healer.
“Can’t you make it go away?”
The Healer shook her head sadly. “No, dear. I can treat many things, but scars are there to stay.”
Lyre didn’t move or say anything. She had a feeling that would be the answer.
“There is a young man-Aurelius is his name, I believe-that has been asking about how the battle has been going, and if I know anything of the girl Lyre. Is that you?” asked the Healer, seeming keen to change the subject.
Lyre perked up at once. “Yes, yes it is!” she said, nodding eagerly. Yes! At least she could have some worthwhile company. She had been wondering how Aurelius had been doing anyway.
The Healer left the room and returned a few moments later. As Lyre saw the doors opening, she put her hand to her burnt face. She didn’t wish for Aurelius to see that.
Lyre gasped as the Healer pushed Aurelius in on a wooden wheelchair. One leg was propped up feebly and his steely grey wings were crumpled out to the side, singed at the tips. His face was also somewhat mutilated, with a burn around his right eye as well as one on his chin. There was also a long burn all the way down his right forearm. Somehow, Aurelius still smiled at her.
“Oh, Aurelius!” Lyre breathed as the wheelchair was pulled up beside her bed and the Healer left.
“Don’t go pitying me, I’ve had enough of that from Oriole and the Healers,” said Aurelius. “Let me guess where you’ve gotten hurt…” Aurelius’s stare went straight to where Lyre had her hand cupped over her face. “Found it,” he said.
Lyre smiled weakly. “You don’t want to see it, Aurelius. Really, you don’t,” she added sternly as Aurelius opened his mouth to speak.
“Honestly, Lyre! Look at me, I’m about as ugly as one can get now, does it really matter?” said Aurelius, a slow smile creeping across his face.
“You’re not ugly! You’re just….”
“Hideous. Horrifying. Scare-little-Fairy-children-out-of-their-wits-frightening---”
“Be quiet!” Lyre laughed. “Really, though. You aren’t ugly. You just have battle scars now.”
“Ah, battle scars. That’s the nice way of saying ‘I got knocked out by a fiery cannonball right when the battle started!’” said Aurelius.
Lyre rolled her eyes. “Fine!” she took her hand off of her cheek. Aurelius didn’t say anything, just looked all over her face. Lyre raised her eyebrows. “Well?” she asked.
“Like I said before, can’t get any worse that me,” said Aurelius. He looked away from her face.
“Tell the truth.” Lyre almost wanted to cover her ears, because she knew very well that when you asked Aurelius to tell the truth, he did.
“You are very pretty,” replied Aurelius, looking at Lyre again.
“With the scar, Aurelius.”
“Well….Er…..that part of your face isn’t as pretty as the rest of you.” He shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair. “But it doesn’t matter. No one will care.”
Lyre nodded. She didn’t mind it so much from Aurelius. He wouldn’t care what she looked like.
“Did anyone else come into your room?” Lyre asked.
Grimacing, Aurelius nodded. In response to Lyre’s questioning look, he said: “Jemdea, Gezdor, Leypel and Tifa.”
Lyre thought her heart skipped a beat. “Tifa? How bad is she?” she asked urgently, sitting up.
Aurelius ran a hand through his forever-messy black hair. “It was hard to tell, but it looked like she had broken a wing,” he said sadly.
Tears came to Lyre’s eyes. Almost all Fairies who broke a wing died not long after. “Oh,” she said faintly. They were silent for a while, in respect for Tifa, if she did die.
“What about your wings, Li?” Lyre asked Aurelius.
Aurelius smirked. “They say I won’t fly again, but I will. I know I will. Healers,” he snorted, “they always predict the worst. No need to take them too seriously.” Lyre looked straight into his dark blue eyes and saw some uncertainty and fear.
Lyre looked at her knees under the white sheets, deciding against mentioning this. “No need to worry,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
They were quiet again. So soon into battle, and already Tifa may die and Aurelius may never use his wings again! Lyre absentmindedly reached up and pressed her fingertips to her scar. Battle scar, Lyre. Battle scar, she thought firmly, removing her hand. Too bad the scar wasn’t from the enemy.
Lyre noticed that the Healer Fairy had come in. The Healer cleared her throat.
“Yes?” said Aurelius.
“Time for you to go back to your ward, dear,” she said.
“’Bye,” said Lyre, reaching over as far as she could to pat him gently on the back. Aurelius smiled.
“”Bye.” The Healer wheeled him out of the room. Alone again, thought Lyre, re-adjusting her wings so that they lay comfortably behind her. She felt a slight guilt as she did this. Her wings were just fine, but what if Aurelius never flew again and Tifa’s wing actually was broken?