The Edits, and Everything Else! discussion

So, new story I'm writing. It's called "The Beginning". It falls in with my Element guardians too, so it's a sequel. BTW, Hazernia is pronounced "AH-Zher-ne-ah". Just so u know. and there's 2 versions, separated by *******.

I was not getting out of bed. I didn't care if someone threatened to kill me. I wasn't leaving my bed. It felt like home. My bed has never felt like home, even for the twelve years I've slept in it. I knew it wasn't mine, but then, it was. If I'm going to tell a story, I'd better start at the beginning, but which one? I guess I should go chronologically. Well then.
I was born in a dark, cold castle, in a nursery a mile below ground. My mother was a queen, and my father was a Shadow. Before I go on, I'll tell you what a Shadow is. A Shadow is a creature, almost human, but more shadowy. They can fade from reality, go without being seen, and all of that creepy stuff. The creepier thing is that I can do it too. I am a princess, a fairy princess, and I have two lives. Literally. Two years after I was born, I got a brother. At that point I was the middle child of three: Arabia, myself, and Mason. And then I turned seven. My mother had been hiding the fact that she was a Fairy, because she actually loved Dad. When I was seven, he found out. And he killed her. I was a raging child with a sword, stabbing everything within five feet of me. I fled to the tunnels. Beneath our nursery, we have a maze. Miles of tunnels, so easy to get lost in. That's another great thing about Shadows. They can walk through walls. Sometimes. My brother was cowering in fear against a wall, in the one that leads out. There's monsters down there. I comforted him, told him we'd survive.
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I slid from my bed, pulling the comforter around me. I glanced around at my prison of a nursery, in case there were any guards watching. Daddy sometimes did that. No guards. Only our empty shelf, for who-knows-what, and my five old brother, Maen, asleep in his own bed. The floor and walls were bare stone, and I shivered. I hated the damp, cold air of underground.
I slipped softly from the room, careful not to let the heavy iron door bang shut. I was only just strong enough to open it. I passed four actual prison cells before reaching the stairs. My bare feet were freezing by this point. I almost turned back to our room, but then remembered my sister Arabia's room. I kept going, up the half mile of staircase. Another thing: I was remarkably fast, especially for a seven-year-old. It was almost as though I could fly.
At the top of the stairs, I turned into a passage. I passed three empty rooms, then reached Arabia's. But Arabia's room was empty, and I heard shouts from Mommy and Daddy's room. I slid up to the door, and began to eavesdrop in the way only I could. I looked through the solid hardwood door in on the scene.
Daddy was holding his fist out in front of him, clasping something I couldn't see. Mommy was backed against the wall, crying.
“And you've kept it from me, all these years? You will die for this, you little liar!” Daddy screeched, obviously at Mommy. He flung his arm to the side. I now saw he was holding a sword.
“NO!” I screamed, running for Arabia's room, where she had a sword of her own. I ran back into the room, wild with rage. “NO!”
Daddy wasn't there. Neither was Arabia. Mommy was. She lay on the floor, eyes closed, and neck bleeding. I dropped Arabia's sword on the floor and ran downstairs. Maen had to know about this! Our door was ajar when I got there. I heard voices coming from inside.
“...She was killed by Hazernian rioters. She died defending your sisters and I.”
No. You killed her. I wasn't supposed to have seen that.
My fifteenth birthday. Nothing much more special than normal. I sat in my itchy new dress, alone in my room. I let my wings unfold. I didn't do that when others were around. It would get me into more trouble than flying is worth. Then someone knocked.
“It's open,” I called, believing it to be Maen.
“So I was right. You're a little liar too.” It was my father. He was holding a sword. And he wasn't supposed to know. “Goodbye Evy. You are not my child.” He raised the sword. “YOU ARE A ZHER!” With that he cut off my wings. The pain was like fire and drowning and soft pillows and being strangled. I screamed and fell to the floor. Someone had heard my scream. I saw there was another body beside me. A fake. My brother's voice.
“She's dead.” His voice held no emotion, something we had learned from all these years.
“Zher rioters killed her.” Father's eyes flicked to the body on the floor beside me. My supposed killer.

“Now I will fight with you. Now I have a reason.” My brother again. That was the last I heard. I blacked out, and didn't wake up.
But then I did, to a cry of “She's here!” Hands held me up, placing me in softer arms. I opened my eyes. The face of my mother beamed down at me. A different man sat beside her, but I could tell he was my new father. He kissed my mother, then me.
“She's beautiful, darling.” His voice was deep and kind. My mother held me to her chest, still smiling.
“Of course she is. She's like a little fairy child.” Fairy child. That's what I was.