Star

Name's Stargleam Trouble Glistensmith—Star for short. If you haven’t heard of me yet, you’re either new or boring. I’m a pixie—thumb-sized, fast, and a menace to anyone who thinks they can keep up. ‘Trouble’ isn’t just a middle name—it’s a way of life.

I’ve got these wings, see—thin, fiery red ones people call phoenix wings. They’re rare and fast as hell, letting me zip through trees at Mach speeds, and outfly anyone dumb enough to chase me.

Makes dodging traps and ticking off stuffy dark pixies, like Ezara, a lot more fun. Yeah, Ezara hates my guts. Something about me ruining her big plan to snatch some ancient tome with one tiny little cave-in. In my defense, it was an accident—mostly. She’s still sore about it, but that just makes it more fun to mess with her.

I don’t do magic. Never needed to. When you can pull off stunts that make jaws drop, who cares about spells? I’ve got my trusty dagger, made from a wasp's stinger, always strapped to my side. Light, sharp, and perfect for cutting through webs, ropes, or anything else that gets in my way.

Clothes? I keep it practical—stuff that won’t snag or slow me down. I wear a sports bra or crop-top made out of red leaves (to match my hair and eyes) and a pair of shorts. Everything’s thin and light, perfect for speed and aerodynamics. My hair’s a mess of wild, flame-colored strands that I can’t be bothered to tame. Besides, the wind does that for me when I’m flying.

Family’s… complicated. Silver’s the oldest sister and acts like it, always with the rules and warnings. She’s got these silver wings and uses healing magic, which is handy when I crash into things—which, for the record, is rare. She dresses smart-casual with neat leaf outfits and spends half her time lecturing me about being reckless. She’s jealous of my wings, though she won’t admit it. Still, for all her nagging, she’s always there to patch me up.

Rose is the middle sister, just older than me, strong, quiet, and real handy in a fight. She’s got pink-red wings and magic that boosts her strength, plus a thorn-sword she swings around like it’s weightless. Prefers armor made from leaves and bark, looking like she’s ready for battle 24/7. She doesn’t talk much, but she’s solid. I can always count on her to have my back, even if she’s glaring the whole time.

Cloudy’s the youngest, just younger than me, and about as sharp as a wet leaf, but she’s sweet. She’s got blue-and-white wings and enough stamina to fly for days without stopping. Loves wearing petal dresses and spins around like she’s at a dance all the time. She’s ditzy and distractable, but it’s hard to stay mad at her when she’s grinning like that. She’s the heart of our little group, even if she’s clueless half the time. For all her ditziness, though, Cloudy’s the heart of our little group. She’s the one who can smile and make everything feel a little less dire, even when we’re up to our wings in trouble. And if anyone tries to hurt her, they’ll have to get through me first.

Call me reckless, a menace, or a show-off—I don’t care. If it’s thrilling, dangerous, and guaranteed to leave a few enemies fuming, then I’m in. After all, if you’re not living fast and laughing in the face of death, what’s the point?