Desirae: A True Fantasy Story

I opened my eyes.
At first I thought I was dead, because, well... a bright light shone above me. I had to squint, and that was when I realized that I wasn't dead.
"Desirae... she's... she's awake!"
I bolted straight up, the deep male voice freaking me out. I looked around. I was surrounded by ancient stone walls, fines and roses covering almost every inch. Still, I could see through the plants, and I noticed the ancient text covering the walls.
"Where am I?" I gasped out, feeling oddly out of breath.
That same voice spoke again from behind me. "You're in the Palace of Dreams."
I turned around and swooned. There stood the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His hair was long and dark brown and he had it tied in a low ponytail. His eyes were the same color of brown, and beautiful pale wings marred his back.
"Who are you?" I said, feeling like I was asking too many questions. Oh, well.
"My name is Alistair," he said, holding his gloved hand out and touching my arm. With just that one touch I was filled with warmth. I swallowed. "I'm Desirae," I said, but I was sure he already knew that.
"I know," he said with a small smile. "I've been watching you."
"Uhh... am I supposed to be flattered?"
Alistair chuckled. "No," he said, turning away and flipping through a thick book that looked like an old tome. "In fact, I would not be shocked if you were disturbed by it."
I stared at him. "I'm not."
"Good," he said.
There was silence for a few moments, and then I stretched out my thin, pale wings. It hurt for a second, and then the pain was gone. I hovered in the hair, thinking it was a bit more comfortable than the hard stone thing I'd been laying on.
Alistair turned to me. "What did you dream?" He said.
I looked at him, surprised. "I... I can't remember," I stammered.
Alistair walked towards me and touched my cheek with his warm hand. I was suddenly filled with the feeling of being invaded. Like all my privacy was just gone.
"You didn't dream," Alistair said, astonished. "That... that is strange. The ratio of dreaming in the Palace of Dreams in raised to 105%. This is not possible. You must have dreamed. Do you remember anything, Desirae?"
I swallowed. No, I did not remember a thing. All I remembered was waking up and having a too-bright light shine in my already sore eyes. I could barely keep them open.
"No," I said. "I don't remember anything. Should I?"
Alistair exhaled and sat down on the edge of the stone I'd been laying on. "Yes, you should have," he said, worry clear in his voice. "I am afraid that something may have gone wrong. Those who do not dream in the Palace of Dreams..." he shuddered, and then turned back towards me. "Nevermind. Do you mind staying here just one more night, to see if you dream?"
Of course I minded! I wanted to go back home to the tiny village of fairies - Silvermist - and sleep in my actually comfortable bed. But instead of saying that, I whispered, "No, I do not mind."
Alistair didn't seem to believe me, but he turned away and looked into the book again.
"What is that?" I asked.
He looked up. "It is something that explains everything about the Palace of Dreams. You see, those who do not dream do not get gifted. And therefore the chances of their survival in Silvermist and beyond are extremely low. Even those with a gift have slim chances of living."
I stared. "Gift?"
"Once in each fairy's life, they get taken to the Palace of Dreams. Whatever they dream about is related to their gift. So, say a fairy dreamed about a cottage with a warm, crackling fire. They would be gifted with an affinity for fire."
"What did you dream about?" I said.
"I dreamed about being in the middle of a blazing hot fire, trapped in the middle of a cold, dark ocean, being struck by a powerful tornado, causing a hurricane and dying and becoming a spirit." His voice had sunk to a whisper. "It wasn't worth it. I can command the five elements - air, fire, water, spirit and earth - but the horror that accompanied me in that nightmare..." Alistair shuddered. "It was not worth it, Desirae."
I swallowed.
"One more night," I said. "And if I don't dream?"
"Then... somehow, you aren't gifted," Alistair murmured.
I couldn't stop one single tear from falling down my cheek.