Chapter 1

**18+ mature content. Not rated or suitable for anyone under the age of majority. Please keep in mind that this is my first story. I am a stay at home parent of a deaf child, and I am writing purely for my own enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of others. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but please don't be an ass. I also accept suggestions on where my story should go, and what readers would like to see! **

Wynne Mathan Romano scrubbed her hand across her face, wincing at the pain that flared as she moved it. The scars were triggering her multiple sclerosis again. Wynne was 35, and short in stature. She stood at only 5'2, and her petite figure was slim, but she worked hard to maintain a healthy and muscled build. She had gotten the scars on her hands and wrists on her 18th birthday, a freak accident causing a tea kettle to erupt and pouring boiling water upon them. She had gone to the emergency room for severe burns. Unfortunately, no doctor could totally repair the damage to her hands. The scarring became so bad that it damaged her nerves. This left her with pain, and occasionally unbearable numbness that prohibited her from using her hands as well as anyone else.

Her eyes were a shade of green, akin to the color of moss after it had rained and the sunlight hit it just right. Her hair was long enough to reach mid thigh, and was the color of strawberries just as they were beginning to ripen. Wynne was an artist, and admittedly, it was a terrible job to have on the days she was in pain. But painting was her life, and it brought her such joy to bring to canvas the places and things she would see in her dreams. Not all of it was something of beauty, though. Sometimes the things that she painted gave her night terrors for weeks.

Unknown to her, these places and creatures were not merely dreams or nightmares. Wynne saw glimpses beyond the human world, and into Loslosach, The Sidhe Realm, when she slept. She had had these glimpses for nearly her entire life. They had started when she was 7, and she had run screaming into her parents room in the middle of the night. Her poor father had nearly had a heart attack, muttering curses in Gaelic as he realized that the commotion was his frightened child. When she turned 16, the dreams had increased, and some of them had become worse. But Wynne had found an outlet for the beauty, and the terror, that haunted her sleep. It was then that she had begun to paint, pouring out every detail vividly onto the canvas.

She had kept her work private until the accident, when she had lost hope that she would ever be able to paint again. Wynne had brought multiple finished works to a public art show, and it didn't take long for them to become hits with collectors and critics alike. It was this that made her strive to regain enough ability in her hands to pick up a paintbrush again. After a few years of physical therapy, and intense hours of work, Wynne had finally begun to paint again. She began to be commissioned for her paintings, and she earned more than enough to survive on her own, and help her parents with anything they might need.

It was a great life for her, even through the pain in her hands, and the dreams that plagued her. The woman let out a sigh, dropping the hand from her head and setting down the brush she had clutched within the fingers of her other hand. She had just finished another work. This one depicted many creatures, as they seemed to ride into war. It was the most recent dream that had tormented her, and it had been getting steadily worse throughout the week. She immediately felt a weight lifting from her chest as she gazed upon the painting.

She always felt better once they weren't merely dreams, and became something she could reach out and touch. Now, it was time to let this one dry. She needed to go change. Paint splattered upon her freckled cheeks, and on the grungy tee and ripped up jeans she wore. Wynne may have loved painting, but it always felt gross when she painted vigorously enough to get it everywhere. Hell, there were days she would leave the studio, and she would look similar to a hobo with how messy she had become. Once, it took her an entire week to remove all the paint from her hair.

Ignoring the aching sensations in her hands, she stretched, before she began putting away the tools of her trade. It wouldn't do to leave the studio a mess for when she returned. Once everything was properly tidied, she snatched up her satchel and slung it over her shoulder, slipping her feet into the sandals she always wore to the studio. It felt better for her to paint barefoot. It would be a long trek home as well, and the sandals made it easier on her feet. Wynne chose a studio on the outskirts of Edinburgh, closest to Calton Hill.

She had fallen in love with the hill when she had moved to Edinburgh. And it definitely helped that the art gallery was nearby as well. Sunlight greeted her as she left the artificial lighting of her studio, and the breeze brought the smell of fresh blooming spring blossoms to float around her. The day was warm when she had left to paint. Which meant all she had brought with her to the studio was her satchel. It held an art journal and sticks of charcoal, her keys, and her mobile. A pack of bubblegum, as well as a pocket knife. Her father had taught her when she was old enough to never go anywhere without one.

Wynne set off on her walk, reveling in the beautiful spring day. Distracted by the sounds and sights of nature. Everything was just beginning to sprout up after the thaws of winter, and birds were chirping greetings. She found herself lost in wonder, wandering along the paths until she had found herself in a section of woods. An unearthly screech had brought her out of her enchantment. It startled her, and Wynne realized that she was in a section of the woods that she had never been before. Her surroundings were entirely unfamiliar and she found herself spiraling into the beginnings of a panic attack.

Wynne had only just begun to shake herself from her attack when she found herself face to face with a monstrous creature. One straight out of her nightmares. She didn't know what it was, or where it had come from. At first glance it appeared to be a giant red-capped mushroom. It had a humanoid face, glowing red eyes, and grizzly fangs poking out of it's mouth. It was dripping blood and looked vicious. Garbled words came from it's mouth, and Wynne could understand nothing that came from it. The only thing she could tell was that it seemed male.

Her panic began again and bile rose in her throat. The creature approached her slowly, beginning to be joined by other creatures out of her nightmares. Something struck her from behind. The last thing Wynne saw before everything went black was the menacing creature in front of her...