Rose

"Name’s Rose. Just Rose. Don’t call me Rosebloom unless you’re asking for a smack, and if you mention the middle name—Heavy-Fist—expect a glare sharp enough to slice bark. Got it? Good."

I’m the middle sister of the Glistensmiths. I don’t talk much, don’t care much for small talk or drama, and I don’t bother with fancy words when a good punch works better. My wings are pink-red, tougher than they look, and my magic’s all strength-based—raw, solid power. I can lift things three times my size, punch through tree trunks, and wield my thorn-sword like it’s a feather. It’s a blade made from a twisted briar branch and a whole lot of stubborn, and I keep it sharp. Always. You don’t last long as a Guardian if your blade isn’t ready.

I wear bark and leaf armour—nothing flashy, just tough, practical stuff that doesn’t rip when I’m tearing through brambles or bashing in monster skulls. Always ready for a fight. You have to be, being a Guardian. We’re not just pixies flitting about. We’re the last line of defence. When something breaks past the Pixie Army, it’s us that holds the line. That means me, my sisters, and whatever patch of forest we’re standing on.

And my sisters... well. Let’s talk about them.

Silver’s the eldest sister. Neat, sharp, and bossy. She’s got these polished silver wings that glint like moonlight, and she’s all about rules, order, and playing it safe. She’s the one with healing magic, which I’ll admit comes in useful, especially when Star ends up smashing into something—again. Silver wears these tidy leaf outfits like she’s off to a council meeting instead of a battlefield. She’s the one always warning us, always planning. Her middle name’s Caution, and stars help me, she lives up to it. Still, I’ll never say it out loud, but I respect her. She carries the weight of being the oldest like it’s part of her wings, and when things go wrong—really wrong—it’s Silver who keeps us from falling apart.

Now, Star—Stargleam Danger Glistensmith—is chaos in pixie form. Fastest wings I’ve ever seen. She’s got those thin red phoenix wings and a mouth that never stops. Cocky, reckless, thinks she’s invincible. She’s not. She crashes. A lot. And she never learns. She’s got this wasp-stinger dagger she waves around like it makes her ten feet tall. Drives Silver mad and gets under my wings too, but… she’s still my sister. She’s fire and motion, and as annoying as she is, she’ll throw herself at a threat without thinking twice if it means keeping us safe. I’ve seen it. Star acts like she’s all brag and no brain, but when it matters? She’s right there in the thick of it. I’ll grumble, but I’ll back her up. Every time.

And then there’s Cloudy—Cloudburst Ditzy Glistensmith. Youngest one, and completely off her twig. She’s got blue-and-white wings like a clear summer sky and enough stamina to fly a week straight, though stars know why she would. Spins around in petal dresses, sings weird songs, forgets what she’s doing mid-sentence. Head’s full of mist and dreams. But she’s… kind. Always smiling, always trying to help, even if she gets in the way more often than not. She doesn’t understand half the danger we’re in most of the time—but that’s her strength, weirdly enough. She doesn’t feel the fear like the rest of us do. She keeps us going, lightens the air when things get heavy. She’s the heart of the Glistensmiths. If anyone so much as touches a hair on her head, Star and I will turn them into compost before Silver even finishes her first lecture.

We’re sisters. A bit cracked, mismatched, and occasionally at each other’s throats, but we’re Guardians. We don’t run, we don’t break, and we don’t let anything threaten our forest, our people, or each other.

We’re the Glistensmiths. And you’d best remember that.

Or I'll punch first and ask question never.

Sister of Silver and Star