From the Cluttered Archives of My Fairie-Centric Mind

He thinks her name is Aideen. To be honest, though, Dara’s less concerned about her name than he is about her life. Mortals weren’t meant to go through the Awakening Ceremony. Unless she had an uncommonly strong sire, the process, meant to bring fairie blood to full strength, could kill her. Human bodies weren’t able to contain that kind of power.

Aideen stands on the edge of a marble pool, dressed in a simple cotton shift. She shivers, her skinny arms wrapped around her as though keeping something contained. Most half-fairie progeny never learn that they are anything exceptional, but a few, like this girl, have too much magic running in their veins. They were either Awakened or they became insane.

He notices that in-between Aideen’s shivers her eyes are changing color, from a scared stormy grey to a cat’s-eye yellow. She’s much too far gone for one so young. That will only make the risk greater. Even now, the fairies meant to be conducting the Ceremony stand huddled together, unwilling to begin. They know that they might soon have a dead body on their hands.

Aideen collapses, unconscious, into the water. It’s possible she’s merely exhausted, but she doesn’t come back up, forcing the fairies’ hand. They scatter around the pool, arms raised, ceremonial robes and wings aglow. The water melts into roaring fire, ruby red and threatening orange. It cocoons the girl, twisting round her and raising her out of the pool. Her eyes are wide open; she makes no sound. The lines of her body grow blurry, and Aideen herself shifts in and out of focus. Finally, two forms glimmer through the flames, superimposed on each other. One is the Aideen from a few seconds ago, scared, small, and shaken. The other is a new Aideen, taller, stronger, and ultimately inhuman. She is only barely identifiable as the same girl. Her bone structure is more emphasized, her limbs are unnaturally long. Wings flicker in and out of existence, glowing with the heat of the flames. It isn’t long before this image begins to solidify, driving out the older, weaker form. With each new, magic-driven breath Aideen draws in, the flames around her die down and out, lowering the girl until she stands in an empty pool a completely different person. Her newly-born wings flick the remaining bits of molten fire off onto the marble where it sizzles away, and her eyes look out over the crowd. A swooping sensation of power accompanies the blank gaze, and for a second Dara fears that she has forgotten herself. The next instant, awareness floods her gaze, along with innocent exhaustion, and she tumbles unconscious into the arms of a waiting attendant. The court takes a collective sigh of relief, and life moves on with one added member of the Fair Folk.