Hopeful • Uncertain • Vindictive

While still childish in nature, Solya is determined to prove herself to others can come to their aid if needed. Her actions may come across as brash, but most times she has put a lot of thought into how she proceeds with any given task. 

Her wings, to her, symbolize freedom, and as such she likes to fly whenever able. She will outright refuse to bind her wings willingly, and if they become damaged at any given point, she will make it a top priority to fix them first before moving on. 

As a blood mage, Solya willingly uses her (and her allies) blood to give her an extra advantage during combat - making up for her weak body with blood shields. Morally, she is conflicted about her ability, as in order to use her magic is causes discomfort to people both visually, and painfully with whomever she takes the blood from. 

Occasionally she will act out and throw tantrums when she doesn't get her way. Which isn't that often since she is good at convincing people to complete tasks for her if she sees herself unfit for the job. 

She likes to pull pranks or act in a sarcastic manner to ease tension. She also just finds it funny (so long as no one gets hurt). 

Failure is not an option for her, and she is deeply shamed if she makes an incorrect decision that goes badly.

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   Childhood

Born the seventh daughter of the Matron Mother of her respective City-State under her original name, Felynkacha'une Helvi'mtor, Solya was immediately thrust into a world of espionage, murder, and a never-ending war. Her father had been some nameless Aasimar slave, no doubt found too close to the gates of the Upperdark, and subsequently taken as a token consort. 

Solya's eldest sister had once told her of him; a man entirely clad in white and pale blues - the polar opposite of her mother, who seemed to be always shrouded in dark purples and red. He died sometime before Solya was born, in a botched attack from one of the other houses, which ultimately lead to an opposing family being banished from the city-state. His true name was lost when he became a slave, and was granted the name Faerdyn Solkah. Last names were incredibly uncommon for slaves, mostly likely Solya's mother had given the name as a slight against the other houses.

As the daughter of a high ranking family, Solya spent more time with her immediate siblings in contests of strength, speed, knowledge and history than around adults. Her mother was almost nonexistent in her life, and Solya could count the times she was actually spoken to directly on one hand. Solya had the most contact with her eldest brother Rhylven and her sixth sister Sinurra'thara.

Solya was the youngest of her family, which consists of seven daughters and two sons. Two more sons were born from her mother, however, due to defects - they did not live long. Her mother had a total of eleven children - more than most drow women could bear. Solya's mother had long been considered to be blessed by Lolth herself, since she had remained in power for such a long period of time. 

Rhylven was the third eldest overall, but was outranked by all female members of the household despite the age difference. He was considerably well-liked by the rest of the household, acting more as a traditional father figure in the absence of the other's fathers. This included training until the women outmatched him, as well as teaching until the girls were of age to go to proper school. Her other brother, Szorhriir, was gifted to another high ranking family when Solya was still very young.

While Solya had long considered herself to be someone of little note,  she continuously drew the ire of many other houses. Her angelic-like appearance and soft features made her a target for the scorn of other women, as well as a target for their insults - constantly being referred  to as nothing but a child, a soft-hearted fool, or light-touched. It was common that she receive death threats in the form of unsigned  letters, or dead birds with their wings torn off placed outside her house gates.

These words, though harsh and cruel in the moment, were ultimately true. Solya could not deny the feeling of overwhelming empathy she felt for the slaves in the city-state, and when no one was watching, she would slip them extra food and candy for the children. This did not go unnoticed.

   The Test of Loyalty

Shortly before turning twelve, she was called into her mother's audience. Before her mother could question her on her actions the room began to shift and contort, a feeling of uneasiness swelled up in Solya as the room continued to twist and turn. A voice called out, demanding a test - a Test of Loyalty. 

Spiders came leaking out of the ceiling like some sort of rain, climbing and crawling over every surface in the room. Solya looked to her mother, whose eyes where glowing a pale red, silent and unmoving. It was clear to Solya that whoever was sitting in that chair at the moment - it was not her mother. Spiders began whispering all around her, voices calling out and mocking. Solya dared not to move - to upset the spiders would be to upset Lolth more than she already was. 

With an understanding nod, the room returned to normal almost instantly. Solya's mother sat shocked in her chair, before a large smile came across her face. It was an honor to be any sort of a tool of Lolth, but to be directly controlled by her was almost unheard of. It was an honor among honors. 

Not knowing what type of test, or even when the test would take place, Solya's mother prayed to Lolth for seven days and nights before finally the goddess answered. Solya, in the meantime, prepared for the worst as best she could. Gathering up a small backpack and filling it with supplies in the case that she may need to flee at any time. 

When Lolth responded, Solya's world seemed to shake again, this time the world flashed white, and she heard voices of what seemed to be a crowd congratulating her - she picked out some of her sister's voices as well. A feeling of overwhelming dread consumed her and she fell to her knees in her room. 

Her task was to sacrifice her brother, Rhylven, in Lolth's name at Solya's Blooding, a coming-of-age ceremony held in her honor. Solya's mother prepared for the test, for many nights, before finally the day came - the 10th day of Uktar - Solya's twelfth birthday.  

Before the ceremony, Solya's mother slipped into her room, holding a tightly packed present. This was the first present her mother had given her. The present contained a small black brooch, and a collection of white and black feathers. Solya looked to her mother questioningly. Her mother patted her on the head, the only physical contact she had ever gotten from her - which quickly soured as she was handed a long, black dagger which was forced into her hand.

Mother pulled her closer by her wrists, forcing her hands around the handle of the blade. Her red eyes bore down on her. "Go for the heart, youngling," she motioned to the centre of Solya's chest, "use the poison to make it quick." she said as she tapped her long black fingernail on the brooch. "As for the feathers- the white ones were your fathers - the black ones he carried with him," she said dryly - "I thought you might like them".

Leaving the room, Solya was left drowned in thoughts of despair. She looked down to the brooch and opened it - the poison inside smelt deceivingly sweet, and she half considered administering it to herself. It was odd, it felt almost as if her mother had given her the poison with that specific option in mind - a way out. Her mind wandered before she was snapped out of her thoughts by shouting in the hall. 

Her sister Sinurra'thara trailed behind a group of armed drow enforcers as they escorted Rhylven down the hall - her yelling had caused her face to contort into a look of anguish. Solya couldn't quite make out exactly what she was saying, as it blurred together in an incoherent mess of anger and accusation. 

Rhylven kept his head low as he was escorted from his room. As he passed, Solya could barely keep her heart from leaping out of her chest as he smiled kindly to her. As if saying that this was all okay, and that everything would be alright. Solya's mother returned and quieted Sinurra'thara with a nasty glare, before whispering something into her ear. Solya watched as the light drained from her eyes as they slowly slid in her direction. Their mother departed them, helping escort Rhylven to the main dance hall. 

Sinurra'thara stood in silence, as if frozen. Slowly she approached Solya and embraced her in an uncharacteristic hug. She leaned into her a whispered, "Even if you don't kill him, they will. Please, Felyn, I don't want to lose you too". 

Solya knew that Sinurra'thara was right. Even by killing herself, no good would come from it. She would be free, yes, but the family would suffer not only the loss of their brother, but of their sister as well. With a heavy heart she coated the poison on the blade and asked Sinurra'thara for forgiveness before heading towards the hall.

The party was almost a shock to the senses - brightly coloured gems, ribbons, and flowers from the above-lands adorned the walls and tables. A dance area was cleared in the centre. Above the dance area was a balcony with a large ceremonial slab in the centre, as if on display. A sacrificial altar. Rhylven stood patiently at mother's side.

The crowd that had come - nobles from the other houses, whispered and colluded with one another, but at Solya's arrival the volume dropped and she stood in uncomfortable silence as she began walking through the crowd towards the rest of her family on the balcony. Rhylven looked calm, his eyes almost had a gentle look to them - even as he laid himself out on the altar. Solya's mother said something - some sort of speech, but Solya could not hear her words. Her eyes stayed on Rhylven.

When the words stopped, Solya felt it - it felt like spiders crawling around inside her, ripping and tearing at her very being. She felt sick. Her eyes focused on her mother, who looked at her with a cold expression. The crowd remained silent, watching. Solya steadied herself, clutching the handle of the blade before holding it above her head, making sure she had a good angle. 

As she moved the dagger downwards, she called out, "For Lolth!" - the words felt sour, wrong beyond all comprehension. 

She did not miss. It was so quick, she felt numb. Like it hadn't even happened yet. The stress ebbed away and was replaced with a cold feeling. She could barely look down at Rhylven, but she did - his eyes, still calm as the blood drained from his body. She swore she could almost see the exact moment his soul left his body. 

The crowd cheered, and everything felt suddenly overwhelming. Like a strike of hot molten lava from deep within her body. An intense anger filled through her as she felt her blood boil with hatred.

   Blood Mage Ascension

Standing there, as if on display for the world, Solya felt wave upon wave of anger, shame, and guilt. Solya clutched her chest as her eyes glowed a crimson red. The crowd continued to cheer for her, for a second she heard Sinurra'thara call to her, but it was drowned out. A pulsing feeling began from her chest, flowing throughout her entire body. Her eyes fell upon Rhylven again, on the pool of red flowing from his body. 

'Come to me,' she mentally commanded, as the blood rose from his body in droplets and collected themselves around her in small streams that orbited around her. Silence befell the crowd as they watched in amazement. Her brother's blood continued to dance around her until the feeling began to slowly fade into the cold, numb feeling again. The blood dropped and splattered on the ground around her.

"A gift!" a voice rang from the crowd. The crowd roared and clapped, voices cheering for her once again. 

Solya's very soul felt heavy. But she still felt it - the warmth flowing through her like a protective blanket. She looked to her mother, who stood with a smile on her face. Her mother raised her hand above her head.

"A gift from Lolth! Magic! My daughter has been blessed with the power of magic through her trial!" She announced gleefully. The crowd cheered, almost as if going mad at this point.

Magic was rare, and almost unheard of for drow women. To be blessed with magic as a woman was considered to be blessed by Lolth herself. Magic, as a woman, meant more power. An advantage over the other houses. Even rarer, this type of magic - the magic to control blood, had never been gifted to someone so young. A sure sign that Lolth favoured her and considered her to be a potential priestess. 

Solya rejected the idea. 

This magic was not Lolth's - it was hers. Wherever it came from - either a gift of pity or from her mixed blood - it was hers, and Lolth was not going to claim victory over her. Solya clasped her hand around her brooch and took a deep breath. Her eyes once again went to her brother's lifeless body. His soul no longer resided there - but it was still her brother. 

These... creatures cheered her on. She hated them, but she understood why they were the way they were. It was Lolth. Their so called god had promised them that they were the supreme beings - that they alone were meant to rule - but Solya knew now that this was simply untrue. They were toys. Nothing but pawns for her amusement. And Solya was one of them. 

After the ceremony, Solya lingered in the hall, eyes downcast and lost in thought. Sinurra'thara approached her, Solya once again went to ask for forgiveness, but Sinurra'thara just shook her head.

"Sister, I know - I know... but..." she looked towards Rhylven's cold body, "I almost feel like I can't forgive you. It's strange. I feel... odd. You're my sister and you are... important, to me, at least. But still..." Her eyes glossed over as she adjusted her dress and looked to Solya again, with an awkward smile. "Is it bad that I feel a bit jealous?"

Solya stood, stunned. Sinurra'thara always had been better in all the competitions they had done growing up - Solya has nothing she was particularly good at other than telling stories that came in handy when they needed to get out of trouble.

"I-" Solya began, before stopping as her mother entered the room again, with the same group that escorted Rhylven in. Their mother looked at Sinurra'thara coldly before smiling gently at Solya as she passed by. 

"Get this out of here," she ordered the group of drow enforcers as she waved her hand towards the corpse on the altar. There would be no burial for him. Most bodies were either dumped into the street, or given to the beasts.

"Ahh! Wait- um-" Solya said as she moved between Rhylven's body and her mother, "can I uh.. can I take something to remember him?" she asked. Her mother looked coldly down at her before nodding.  

Solya approached the altar, gently running her hand along his cold flesh when the others weren't looking. A last goodbye to him. Solya stopped herself from showing much emotion, for fear of the others catching her showing too much of her adoration for him. It was a weakness. 

Gently she took out his golden earrings, and placed them in her hand. She placed her hand on his chest and felt no heartbeat. What little warmth there once was, was now fading. She called upon it again - her magic, the warm, raging current of her magic, calling forth the rest of his blood from his body. There wasn't much, as she had taken much of it earlier. She opened her brooch once again and commanded the blood to store itself inside. She clasped the brooch shut and held it close to her. 

Once she was done, she gently put her hand over his eyes and closed them. 

She knew she had to leave - and soon. Even Sinurra'thara wasn't unaffected by Lolth's influence. And Solya feared the longer she stayed here, the more she became just like them - evil, heartless, and cruel.

Escaping the Underdark

After her trial and Blooding ceremony, she authenticity as a drow stopped being asked into question. Fewer and fewer threats came her way. Almost as if they other houses began to fear her and her magic. She used her time to grow her magical arts stronger - her mother had requested that one of the drow mages act as her teacher in this aspect - which was controversial, as a man was not allowed to teach a woman once they came of age and became their superior.

These lessons seemed to go by so quickly, every couple of lessons, the teacher would be swapped out for another. She wouldn't see the previous teacher again. She didn't ask where they went. There would be no point to it. She avoided growing close with any of them - as that would likely hurt her more when they inevitably dissipated. 

It was in Flamerule, the season of Summertide, when Solya finally left her home for the surface. It was easier than what she thought it would be. She had somehow managed to convince her mother to allow her to go to Deepburrow, located in the Upperdark. It was a merchant city, half in the Underdark and half above the surface. She was sent with a troupe of drow soldiers, along with a few merchant wagons.

In was a shock to feel the warmth from the sun, and how it seemed to burn on your skin and eyes. It bewildered Solya as to how so many could handle what felt like being roasted alive. But she knew this feeling would likely go away with time. 

Solya waited for her chance to slip away - to get away from her entourage. She had managed to get a hold of her backpack as well as some other personal items along the way, but getting away unnoticed would be the hardest part. Taking advantage of a crowded marketplace, Solya slipped into the crowd, making her way quickly towards the gates of the city. 

It did not take long for her entourage to notice her disappearance, but by that time, Solya had already spread her wings and silently flew with no destination in mind. 

She flew from from town-to-town, doing odd jobs when the people would allow her to do so - as a drow, she was always regarded with suspicion. Solya couldn't blame them. Luckily, the wings that had for so long been a burden to her gave her something to fall back on. She was not a full drow. She was also an aasimar, a being of celestial good. She used this to convince the townsfolk to allow her to help if they didn't outright reject her first. 

Solya denounced her original name, taking on the name Solya De Melodrae. 'Solya', in memory of her father, and 'De Melodrae', a sarcastic dig at herself, literally meaning ‘the melodramatic’.

Practicing magic in her spare time, Solya trained herself, becoming a capable mage. Unless absolutely necessary, she avoided using her blood magic, as those who witnessed it became convinced that she was some sort of demonic being in disguise. She became more aware of her surroundings, the hatred some people held for drow, the wars the surface folk had waged against themselves, and the monsters that lurked in the shadows here. 

The world seemed so much larger now - so many things she didn't know, so many places she hadn't seen yet. For the first time in a long time, she was hopeful for a better future.

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