** Warning **, this story is a bit dark and twisted, but I hope you enjoy it otherwise.
"There once was a village, far more beautiful and fair then any Iqena had ever seen/spoken of. It was hidden, for the most part. The only way you could ever get there is by boat. But people didn't mind that. They just wanted to get there, and see all the village's beauty and unlock it's secrets. I lived here, only by luck, I suppose. I was born to two faithful parents, who didn't believe in sinning of any kind. But that was the custom of the whole land. No sinning, what so ever. But some didn't believe in this rule, and took it upon themselves to break it, just because their conscious knew it was wrong. It was to bad I would suffer from these poor, lost Iqenas' actions. It was a foggy, but sunny, morning when Allison, my companion and best friend, raced to tell me of a murder in the Holmes' household. Her panting breath rang in my ears as the sound waves met them, in a rather annoying demeanor. I, at the time, thought nothing of this. Sure, I did feel bad for the kind folk, but I didn't know them very well and couldn't quite make out why everyone was so sad. But Allison soon told me it was because they had a sun. My pity deepened for them, but not to the point where I was going to attend the mourning session. But my absence would raise suspicion, which I would find out days after the session. The two days before an angry crowd knocked at my door with such force I was a wee bit frightened they'd break it off the hinges, other Iqena would give me nasty looks. It appeared my absence was considered unholy. The next day it got a bit more intense; people extending their hooves to trip me, and purposely ignoring my requests for such things as an apple from the woven basket in the market. It was only on the final day, which I did not know was my last at the time, that they came knocking. Naturally, I answered, assuming it was Allison. And it was. But she was with a mob of narrowed eyes and slightly expanded midnight slits. They gripped me by my slim 'arms', and shoved me to the ground. Allison had given the shovers a rope, in which I had thought was for tying my legs together, or something. But I didn't actually expect them to throw me into a jumbled knot and carry me out in the middle of the town, where stood one long piece of woods tied to a small piece. It looked like a cross. Panicking now, I threw myself around, only to be jerked around. Soon they had me tied to the cross, in which to my fear, was certainly going to be my death bed. Now, to hurry up the story and make it a bit less gruesome for your younger ears, they had taken it upon themselves to cut off my wings, which to me, seemed a bit harsh. But it was so I couldn't escape, or so they said. It burned, but only for a short while. For seeing my family in the circle surrounding the cross, drowning out the chants of the fellow Iqenas and just staring, with no facial expressions but the horror in their eyes, numbed my whole body. In the back of my mind I was frustrated. That I hadn't been able to say my plea. That I hadn't killed them. But my main focus was on how my family didn't scream at the Iqena, who was lighting a fire at my feet, to stop. That, to me, was more painful then the flames rises and engulfing me. But I guess that's just fate. A dark, twisted way of fate.."