Exodus - "Something in their Eyes"

She stood up, bathed in the half-light of a shy dawn. Breathing in, she felt the seams of her ivy-green dress stretch. Her white chest expanded as her dark hair was blown from her face by the wind. Her bloodstream was filling with the oxygen of freedom. A freedom born out of desire. A freedom that mothered recklessness and selfishness.
Her lace wings bloomed behind her as she opened her large eyes and pushed herself up from the leaf. Her pulsating irises grew alight with a feeling of grandeur. Airborne, she twirled and was gone.
Gone, heading. Heading towards a horizon which promised change. Which promised her desired turbulence of flight. Hardship, happiness and life; Sadness, joy - feeling.
Behind her, a much loved, barely forgotten juniper tree was shivering his needles off towards a dry death. Its branches would fall in howling pain one by one, hitting the dusty planet's backbone in dismay. Its bark would rot, its rustling leaves die. All because he would miss her so terribly; he would beg forgiveness for enslaving her. His love would consume him; it was for the best. She would never return.

She had left the Juniper Tree. She had bought her freedom at a terrible cost.

I'm free.

*

Standing up with a jolt, she grabbed the hem of her black silk dress. Her eyes sparkled with reflected worry, as well as a small feeling she could not quite grasp. It had come and gone ever since she'd seen the petals. Pointing South. Painfully showing a South realm with their golden contours.
For a second, the sky was split by a lightning bolt. Something inside her ruptured: her eyes glittered with the liberating pain of the crack.
Feeling the dark leaf under her feet, as well as the tiny dead cells clinging to her toes, she breathed in the stormy air that came towards her face. On it, our Rose Faerie detected shocks and drops of soothing, rumbling rain. Her decision had been long made, but only now did she have enough strength to let it fill her body.
Pushing up, she extended her transparent wings so that the setting sun would warm them. Airborne, she was free.
With a wave of her hand, with a wings' agitation she left the her Black Rose of a life behind her, shrivelling painfully until it became no more than a fist of ashes. Her Black Rose was no more; its ashes were being driven away from its home by the same wind that empowered her.

The Black Rose's song was still an echo in her heart. But no more.

I'm free.