The annual Festival of Magic would have been held that last week of July, but unfortunately, for nearly the last century the festival has not been held; it shall not be held any longer if times continue on like they have been since The Conference rose to power. A few daring souls still tell the grand tales of great beings called Mystiques; even though they know they could be arrested for suspicion of 'aiding' these beings. Many of these tales are told around fires that are held late at night, far out from any place that a Rosemund Specialist could be lurking. One of these fires had been held very recently.
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I cautiously made my way across a large expanse of open field, toward the fire that I saw glowing not far away. As I approached the fire, I made out the shape of a withered man seated on the opposite side of the fire from me. He looked very old, far to old to be able to tell any tales. But the man spoke with such a confident, strong voice that he sounded as though he was not even twenty-one years old, but had all the wise years of someone that was seventy-six years: "Make yourself comfortable, my friends, for the night is now short and I have a rather long tale to tell you all. Not to mention the fact that our so-called friends and protectors may make their way out here."
I did as the old man said and took a seat near where I had approached. I could feel his cool blue eyes resting on me. I raised my light green eyes to confirm that he was looking at me or if I was only imagining such feelings, but I was not shocked to find that they did rest on me. Quickly averting my eyes, I looked to the others that had gathered 'round the fire. The ages varied, from ten years to probably somewhere around forty years, or a little more. They all looked nervous, but still did their best to act calm.
After everyone was settled, the withered elder began speaking, starting out at a whisper, but slowly get stronger and more captivating. I closed my eyes and listened as his words began to spin a web of images in my mind of a better time; a time where I would not have to constantly worry about my safety.
"The Mystiques, any being that has an affinity for any kind of magic - whether it is a manifestation for an element, to being an elf, or a werewolf, have not always been hunted down by Rosemund Specialists, soldiers that are trained to track and bring Mystqiues to justice. They were founded by The Conference, the cruel men that decided that Mystiques were not to trusted any longer."
~ * ~
It was about half way through the tale that I was jolted back to reality, suddenly hearing: "Get up! Leave!" The commands that were barked from the darkness scattered everyone that had been seated around the fire. The Rosemunds had come to us. I didn't know what to do, so I froze. One Rosemund that looked strangely familiar, grabbed my shoulder and forced me to look up at him.
"Didn't you hear him? Leave. NOW." His dark brown eyes glared into mine. He released my shoulder and allowed me spring up from my seat and retreat. I spared only one looked over my shoulder to see if the old man had gotten away, but to my horror the man just sat there and looked after me, paying the Rosemund Specialists no mind. Although, the old man wasn't the only one staring after me, the Specialist with the dark brown eyes was as well.
Part II
"Amaris, are you sure? Why would a human, let alone a Rosemund Specialist, stare after you?" My close friend, Fawne asked, chin resting in the palms of her hands with her elbows resting on her long, slender elf legs that were crossed in the cross legged style.
"I don't know, Fawne. All I know is that he was definitely staring after me." I replied, my irritation building. I just couldn't shake the look of his eyes in the fire. There was something different about him. Letting my eyes close, I leaned back and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cool night air and clearing my mind. "Never mind. Just forget it. We are safe here and The Conference and their precious Rosemund Specialists can't do anything to harm us while we are here." I spoke with a sneer on my face and gestured around the room we sat in. It was one of the many rooms carved underground by the dwarfs; an open roof allowed moonlight and the cool night air to flow in.
"Yes, I know we are safe here in Rebel's Hideout, but I still can't help but feel on edge," she sighed, her emerald green eyes, staring at me. With one look at the sneer on my face, she quieted and looked around the magnificent dwarf-carved room and all the tunnels that led out of it.
I can barely remember when I first came to Rebel's Hideout. All that I knew then was that the humans and Mystiques that were in the Rebellion would keep me safe and I could contribute to making it so that maybe, one day the Mystiques could walk like free people again.
~ * ~
I could tell that the full moon was approaching. Actually, everyone could since myself and the other werewolves in the Rebellion were beginning to grow tails and ears. When I started to shift, I began to wander the tunnels that the dwarfs had carved so amazingly all those years, no, centuries ago. The art work and craftsmanship that went into carving the caves and tunnels. I could not help but admire the work that the master sculptors had done.
"Amaris Faolan, correct?" The voice that sounded from a few feet away from me made me jerk my hand away from the smooth wall. I turned to face the person that had spoken my name. I recognized the man instantly as the leader of the Rebellion, Stephan Gray. He was one of the most powerful sorcerers in the entire Rebellion. Although, the fact that he was over a hundred years sort of contributed to that.
"Ye-yes." I stuttered. I felt my large, black wolf ears lean back against my thick, coarse hair that matched the color of my wolf ears.
"I heard that you had an encounter with some Rosemund Specialists a few days ago." Stephan said to me, looking down at me. I swallowed past the nervous lump that had formed in my throat and nodded. He didn't look angry or anything, just concerned. "Are you alright?" He asked me, his slate gray eyes scanning my face for any hint of an injury. I nodded once more and withdrew my gaze from his eyes, letting them fall on the staff that he held in his left hand. The crystal ball that was light blue and secured in a claw-like metal holder on the top of the staff fascinated me. "Well, good. Good." Stephan spoke once more and started past me.
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The storyline interests me and I'm looking forward to seeing where you take this. 
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