Aria Whitebirch was one with the forest of Helmsbirch. She knew of every leaf that fell and how the wind whistled between the wood's winding branches. Every creature that called the forest their home was her friend and mentor. Learning how to hunt and survive was all thanks to the benevolent beings that roamed around the large Elven village at the forest's center. She was born there, what seemed the ages ago now and had forgotten much of her heritage. What she did know by know, she had learned by eavesdropping and stealing letters marked with seals of importance. She was dead to them, a shadow of their past that they were sure had long since disappeared. Unfortunately for the elders of the village and everyone who resided there, Hell was set loose when one, solitary letter addressed to a high ranking band of hunters and mercenaries, found its way to her.

"To whom it may concern. We, the Elders of Helmsbirch, are writing you with in regards of requesting your services once more. When we had first contacted you, it was because a being of shadow, a demon, had lain with a commander in our village, Sipha Whitebirch. When it was discovered that she was pregnant, she hid who the father was from us, though we could sense the darkness that lingered on her skin, and the hell spawn that grew within her. For her insolence, when the beast was born, it was cast into the forest, allegedly demolished by the animals that lived there. We sacrificed Sipha to our Gods in hopes that she could be redeemed for the terrible sin that she had committed. Your men hunted the demon that tarnished our commander and the Whitebirch name, and the sacrifices you made were greatly rewarded when you finally returned with his head. But alas, we need to call upon your aid once more. The Hell spawn still lives. We are requesting that you help us be rid of this abomination. There are further details attached as well as half of your requested payment. The rest you will receive once her head is brought before us......"

There was more to the letter, but it had disintegrated in her hands, the ashes fluttering to the ground like the dead leaves of fall. A rage unbeknownst to her welled deep within her belly, the seemingly endless pit of fire roiling angrily, like the molten rock inside of a volcano would before an eruption. She was wild, she was fire, and she would make them regret what they had done.
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She was young, in elven terms, only fifty. By human standards though, she appeared to be about thirteen, and it would take a while yet for her and her powers to mature. Her magic, the blue flame that happily danced within her, protecting her and helping her fight was a gift from her mother. In her readings, having taught herself, she discovered much about her mother, Sipha and the strong commander she was. Leading great elven armies to war and to victory with wicked azure fire. For someone so young though, she was stunning. Her heritage was that of the Drow, but her unique features made her very appealing. Long, ocean blue hair, shone like sapphires in the sunlight, tied up with vines into a loose bun most days. Elongated and delicate ears framed her petite face, with large emerald eyes, like deep forest pools, glowing from her porcelain skin. A small nose and lush, plump lips that were much too sensuous for someone her age filled the remainder of her soft visage. Her physique was toned as she entered womanhood, slowly blossoming into an adult's body. Long, slender fingers held the remnants of the scorched letter, her small frame shaking as a darkness that lurked within her surfaced, the cerulean flames that danced around her turning crimson.
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A monster is what she would become. The very nightmare the Elders of Helmsbirch had feared she would be when they cast her away. Thin but sturdy black wings burst from her shoulders, spraying blood against the nearby trees, painting the luscious green leaves in red. Horns as vibrant as that blood spiraled from her skull, just above her forehead. Her green eyes became bloodshot, the red fire overtaking the forest as her gaze became as brilliant as a sunset, holding a ferocity that could rattle the stars. Curved talons pushed from her nail beds, her fair skin turning black from her fingers to her shoulders, the dark tendrils trailing off onto her chest. Her sharp canines became wicked and the only thought that fueled her was revenge, for she would have it. Her fire burned the clothing from her back, leaving her wreathed in flame. If they wanted Hell spawn, they would get it.
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Night fell and the elders of Helmsbirch were leaving the oak longhouse as one stopped the others. His eyes were wide and his body trembled as the other 7 wise ones beheld the scene before them. Blood soaked the earthen paths as bodies littered the grassy curbs, there being no discrimination within those of the dead. All ages were present, from small children, to all adults, newly matured or otherwise. As the elders moved through the village, weapons drawn, they paused, mute in terror of what awaited them in the plaza. Death. In the form of a girl, young in age but old of mind. Steam rose from the earth as the blood soaking the dirt was evaporated, the heat overwhelming. Her eyes opening in a flash, pushing quickly off of the ground, chunks of dirt and grass flying behind her as she lunged at the group of elders, her world turning black. Aria opened her eyes, shackled as if on display in the back of her mind. A prison. This dark void that filled her pushed her back and took her body from her, and like a puppet it did what it's master asked of it. She could only watch in horror, unable to stop herself when she lunged forwards like a hungry animal. Slowly closing her emerald eyes, she forced herself to ignore the sounds that filled the air as the demon went on a rampage.
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Blinking, she awoke, the sun shining brightly through the leaves in the canopy. She groaned as she sat up, back stiff from laying on the hard path. Her eyes grew wide as they took in the carnage all around her before leaning over to empty her stomach. It had been a massacre, limbs and broken bodies were scattered basically everywhere. Every elder had been slain, their sheltered ways having diminished their ability to fight. Something dark within her smirked, but she pushed it away. Getting to her feet she stumbled into the center of the plaza, face drawn in horror as she took in what surrounded her, what she had done. As if in a dream state, she could feel tears spilling from her eyes, the forests reflected back, shining under the morning light. Her body wouldn't move as she wailed, falling to her knees as large droplets fell from her jaw onto her body. Though she could smell it, she refused to look, the tangy metallic scent filling her senses. Covered in blood, practically from head to toe, she screamed, harsh cries of sorrow and anguish that filled the treetops. Ears twitching, she snapped her head to the left, her eyes fixated on a man emerging from the trees, and another and another until there were roughly one hundred armed soldiers surrounding her. Panic set in as she went to stand, her knees buckling, sending her right back down onto the forest floor. Useless, she was so tired that she could not resist when some of the strange men came up to her, grabbing at her with rough hands as they bound her wrists and ankles. A prized catch, is what they called her, after they had hosed down her body and scrubbed every inch of her. Dressed in flimsy clothing, she was placed in a cage and was carted around from market to market, chained in irons, as these hunters tried to auction her off for a pretty penny like many other elves before her.
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Feral and viscious, she would be in her captive's care for 15 years, now equivalent in age to a seventeen year old girl, her features sharper and more defined, her body fuller and shapely. Markings covered her body, magical supressants to control the flame that resided within her, though they learned that the hard way when she burned down the first dozen caravans. She would raise her lips, hackles on a beast at any who ventured near her, which was the main reason as to why she had been stuck with them so long. Large scars covered her back where she had been whiped, the only blemishes on her fair skin, the damage so severe that even with the help of the demon blood flowing through her, they scarred horribly. She fought for every second of every year until another girl, younger than she by eight years was deposited into her large cage. Ella was her name, and she was like the sun. Her skin was tanned and soft, golden tresses fell delicately upon her shoulders and fawn like hazel eyes filled her face. Aria fell in love, like how a parent would when they first see their child. Nothing would prevent her from protecting Ella, or at least she would try to save this piece of sunlight that had fallen.
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Ella had been with Aria for only a short two months before they were sitting within their dungeon; their cell, as people ogled them whilst they walked by. A crude man, large and rotund was speaking to the hunter that owned them, before the grate to the cage was opened and Ella was pulled harshly to the ground outside. Screaming for her, Aria clutched the cold metal bars, nostrils flaring as the disgusting man inspected her as he would a prize dog. His grubby fingers tarnished her golden skin, before he nodded, tossing a hefty bag of coins at the hunter. Tears in her eyes, Aria reached her arm as far as she could, and Ella reached to her. She would see her again, pulling her arm back to her, clasping her hands and silently praying. Sitting quietly in her cage, she made no fuss as the hunters risked approaching her to clean her up. Her luscious hair was brushed until it shone again, her face and body cleaned from the dirt that had caked there. She was given new clothes and presented again in the market. She waited, biding her time, heeding the words that little Ella had told her. "Wait and be patient. If you are bought, you might have a better chance of escaping." Silently, she endured every leering stare and every foul and lustful comment. Her saving grace came to her in the form of a soldier, a woman clad in spectacular silver armor, whose presence alone stiffled the air around her. The woman took one glance at her before pulling a purse from her belt, the fabric heavy with the coins inside. Placing it before the hunters, she strode to the cage, grasping the doors, the brackets heaving as they snapped like dry twigs as she pulled them open. Gesturing kindly, hand outstretched, Aria took her change and griped it tightly. Everything would change now and she would no longer be weak.
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Sweat dripped off of her porcelain skin as her supple bosom heaved beneath leather armor. Stray strands of blue hair clung to her face, flushed with exhertion, looking down at her sparring partner. Lucy, the soldier who bought her release, later discovered to be a paladin, looked up at her from her place on the floor, her armor clinking as she gasped for breath, the wind knocked from her. She smiled widely and reached for Aria to help her up. Aria was an adult now, appearing twenty five in human terms but nearing one hundred in elven, though her aging process had basically stopped at this point. It had been over eight years since Lucy had taken her in and had shown her how to act and behave like a proper being, taught her worldly topics and how to debate and how to be diplomatic. Lucy gave her meaning and taught her how to control her magic, the flame reigniting after many years of laying as embers within her. A weapon was given to her, a scythe of ivory, made specifically for her, as to endure unbearable heat, with channels that she could furrow her power into, allowing the scythe to morph to a shape and length that she prefers, any extra parts made solely of fire. She spent many more years here, and while she stayed young and agile, her skills improving daily, Lucy became old and weary. Burdened by her aging form, Lucy called for Aria, and with her last breath, signed the document that would forever free her from her bonds, and told her to venture the world and never stop. So she did.
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As Aria travelled, and her knowledge of the world increased, so did her power. She would spend years in one town to immerse herself in study if there was a scholar or warrior there that could help her become stronger. Along her journeys, she would also clash against many foes, some so overwhelmingly powerful that she had nearly died, left to bleed out from her injuries only to have her wounds be healed upon a long rest. Taking what she learned from these battles, she would continue to test herself.
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When she neared two hundred and fifty, she delved deep within her psyche, challenging the darkness within her. Aria was used multiple times over as she fought herself, over the span of weeks, until finally, she broke free of her mental prison and took control of her form again. No longer would she be victim to her own magic. Harnessing her darkness, her looks could now completely change on demand. Permanent slits formed on her shoulders from when her wings would release and she had learned to love the deep red that her flame would clothe her in. She wanted more though, someone to teach her how to futher understand this creature that lived within her. How to draw from it more, as she had learned with her flame. She had been taught how to pull energy from the earth, exploiting the abunace of natural heat and exhaust from it's core. She could manipulate fire and anything that held it's properties, and though she is still learning, she has spent at least another fifty to one hundred years working with the manipulation of molten metals and earth to increase her effectiveness in battle.
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Aria Whitebirch is still travelling, and can be seen singing in pubs, dancing in the streets and walking aimlessly towards forests, fields and mountain ranges. Some say that she is like the ocean or a clear sky, beautiful and carefree, a welcoming site. Others compare her to blood on freshly fallen snow, wicked with death following, like how a wolf would stalk a wounded deer. With a sharp wit and quick to adapt, she will never decline a challenge and seeks to be her better self constantly. Maybe you will meet her, and maybe you will wish you hadn't.