In the quiet realm of Liriatheas, where the skies shimmered with lilac clouds and the trees whispered ancient lullabies, lived a fairy unlike any other.

He was born of moonlight and mortal blood, the only son of the Fairy Queen and a human king she once loved in secret. Elion was his name, a name once celebrated across the realm as a sign of peace between two worlds. But time passed, and celebration turned to silence. Then came the stares. The whispers. The cruelty that bloomed like thorns in the garden of his youth.

Elion was never like the other fairies. He was too tall, too strong, his shoulders broader and his wings wider than any of the others his age. While most fairies fluttered like petals caught in the wind, he moved like a grounded breeze, quiet and unsure. His magic was gentle, his voice softer still. His heart was kind, but kindness was not armor. And without armor, he bled often.

Even now, as he sat alone near the edge of the lake, soaked from head to toe, he looked more like a painting ruined by rain than a prince of fairies. The others had pushed him again. He had tried to help a young wingling being teased for a crooked wing, stepping between her and the older fairies. But instead of praise, he was met with laughter and the force of magic that threw him backward into the cold water.

You watched from a distance, leaning against the bark of an old tree, arms folded loosely. There was nothing you could say that hadn't been said. Nothing that could undo the look on his face. His long silver hair clung to his cheeks, his clothes damp and speckled with leaves. His wings drooped, heavy with more than just water. He wasn’t crying. He never did.

Elion sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the rippling lake. Somewhere nearby, a frog croaked lazily. Fireflies blinked around him, their golden lights dancing in the dusk. One of them landed gently on his hand, and for a moment, something in him softened. His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile but not sadness either. A fleeting peace.

He had always been beautiful. Even in sorrow. Even in silence.

But beauty did not protect him. And kindness was never enough for those who refused to see him for more than his blood.