Long, long ago, in the early middle ages, a little fairy girl was born.
Ever since the first day she could remember, there was an insistent feeling inside her heart, telling her that she was meant to be much more than just a little fairy.
Although she was a perfectly happy kid, cheerfully dancing and playing around with the others, there was always this distant voice in her head, that could not be silenced. In her dreams, she lived through what she thought could be fragmented memories of a past life, long ago, in a world she could not comprehend.
But she was content with her life, loved her friends, her siblings and parents, and had not the slightest hint of an ambition to become something else than a fairy. So she ignored the voice, danced away the the feelings of dread, and somehow even managed to sometimes forget about these vague sorrows that plagued her so unrelentingly. She would not give in to these troubles, and decided to live a plain and simple, but happy life instead.
Even as a kid, she used to be incedibly smart, always winning every game that did not merely rely on luck, she was always the first to solve every riddle, and soon even her teachers didn't know what else to teach her anymore.
As she grew older into a young adult, she quickly became assistant to the town's elders, encouraged her people to build a safe new granary, where their food wouldn't be affected by rain and blight, and introduced many new concepts, that helped her village to harvest more. She became a celebrated hero amongst the fae all over the woods and meadows, because not only did she lead her own people to wealth and happiness, she also freely shared her knowledge, and helped other villages to achieve the same.
One day, she met a handsome young trader from another fairy town, with whom she quickly became friends, and later fell in love and married. Thogether with her new husband, she brought innovation after innovation to both their villages, and aside from the forboding, almost warning dreams that still haunted her every night, she was very satisfied with her life.
As time passed, they raised their own family. Two children, a brave and clever little girl destined to become a great explorer, and a rather shy but very creative boy, who spent every day dancing, inventing songs and composing beautiful poetry. And dispite her getting older with every year, she still somehow kept all the energy, health and the looks of a young adult.
Without a doubt, she was the luckiest fairy on earth, she thought, with not one more thing she could wish for, except for everything to stay as it was, that no disaster would strike to take away that happy life.
And, who would have thought? Disaster did not strike. No evil fell over her village, no draught wasted away her land, and neither sickness nor serious injury came over her family. Instead, life went on peacefully, except the ominous shadow of an unspoken past, and the gnawing urge to follow this silent voice, which called her away.
As she grew even older - yet still she looked as young as if she were in her twenties - she became grandmother, and even if she already thought she could not be happier, now she was. Everyone wondered how she kept her youthful beauty at the age past 50, even looking younger than her children did, but all in all she did not care, and decided to enjoy it while it lasted. Her husband, although he was clearly aging, had also stayed young at heart, and was still in good health.
When her parents died, it saddened her, but they had lived a long and peaceful life, and died a natural death, so she while she mourned, she was grateful for that. However, as time passed further, it became undeniable that something about her could not be right. Her husband grew old, so much older than her, and when her grandchildren reached adulthood, she still looked as young as they did.
She stayed with the man she loved, all the way to the end, when he peacefully passed away on his deathbed. She was horrified to lose him, yet she found the strenght to go on, because of her children and grandchildren. Even as the years further passed, and everyone around her, her friends and siblings, died... she still stood strong.
But the river of time flows without mercy, and as the day came where even her own children were so old that they could not fly anymore, her good faith and spirit finally broke. Years seemed to go by relentlessly faster and faster, and as she eventually kneeled devastated before the graves of both her husband and her children, her grandchildren already growing old themselves, she herself still was youthful as she had been in her twenties.
She could not know she was born as a fae, but with the soul of a muse. And what has the soul of a muse can neither age nor can it really die. What she did know, is that she could not go on without her loved ones, and she could not go on having everyone in her life die on her.
And in her moment of utter despair, as the raindrops fell heavily all around her, a place in the cold ground next to her family's graves seemed so much more inviting then returning to her now empty home. She would end it all, right here and now.
But in that moment where she readied the blade to put an end to her life, mere seconds before she made the cut, a dark and terrible truth suddenly scurried through her mind. How many times had she done this before? For the first time, she embraced the memories which were trying to forcefully unfold within her since she was born. Was that was the foreboding dreams had tried to warn her about? If she was to end it all, would anything really change, or would the same story just happen again and again, the next time she'd be born?
That moment, as she cast aside the blade and took a long last look on the graves of her loved ones, was when she made her decision. The decision to not hide away anymore, as she had done all her life and the lifes before. Without even visiting her village one more time, she fastened her hood, spread her bright blue wings and flew away, wherever her memories would guide her.