Legends of Belariath
Anaya
"I'm sorry."
Those were the first words she ever said, and as the years went by, they became her mantra.
"I'm sorry it happened. I'm sorry for what I have done. I'm sorry for being nearby. I'm sorry for being born."
Many torians believed those whose wings bear colour bring fortune and are an omen, good or ill. Few clans treat this belief as superstition, though are still cautious around those whose wings are the dark colours of ill omen. Others firmly believe that this is fact.
It was the latter Asha was born into, a beautiful, caring woman with wings of the brilliant blue of a clear winter's sky, the colour of good fortune. She grew up praised and pampered, years of good harvests, strong children and general prosperity for her clan were all in thanks to her, or so the clan believed and when she became heavy with child, many took this as a sign that further years of happiness were to come as surely her child would continue to bear her gift upon them.
Then the chirot came.
The attack was swift and brutal, and while the clan was successful at chasing them off, many were killed or grievously wounded in the fight, including the blue-winged Asha. Desperately the remaining clan healers tried to heal her, and when it became clear that not even their best could save her, they focused on her unborn child. Then, on one of the bloodiest days in her clan's history, was born Anaya, a child of skin as black as her wings.
Many of the survivors, still mourning for their losses, cursed the child. Black wings of ill fortune, it was because of her the chirot came, that so many had died, including her own mother. Some said she should be abandoned in the wild and let nature do what it will to the newborn. Keeping her would only continue to bring bad luck, poor luck, plagues, the accusations kept getting worse and increasingly outlandish. However, to bring harm to one of their own, much less leave them for dead, was unheard of in the clan. So Anaya lived, unharmed.
Physically.
Just as her mother was praised for everything good that had happened to the clan, Anaya was blamed for everything ill. Sickness, poor harvests and hunts. Injuries and even deaths, especially of the clanmembers that died on the day she was born, even that of her own mother's. The quiet girl whose only words seemed to be apologies had no family, father unknown and no one in the clan was willing to bear the burden of the blackwing for long, though like the rest of the orphans she was taken care of, and had no friends except for one.
His name was Kale, a handsome young man with wings of purest white. When others were not looking he would help Anaya with whatever tasks she was given, talk to her instead of blaming her and even gave her a smile or two. Anaya, desperate for approval, clung to him, the two swiftly becoming close and, when they came of age, lovers. It was he who guided her onto the path of the healer, so maybe, eventually, she could help others and atone for her wrongs. He taught her to help and serve others, and if she did well, she may eventually get other's approval. It was his idea for the two of them to leave the clan, telling her that she'd never be welcomed there unfortunately, and to find somewhere else where she can be.
Their travels together were short, the world was a harsh place, and even when traveling with another group, they were beset by bandits where Kale was mortally wounded and Anaya, who was still only learning the healing arts, was not able to save him. With one final, heartfelt "I'm sorry." She laid her lover to rest and continued her travels, practicing her healing arts and searching for a new place to call home. The winds slowly guiding her toward a town known as Nanthalion.