In the midst of a long forgotten land, a deserted castle lies. Its walls lie in ruins, blocks of stone scattered by the winds of time. Grass smothers the remains of the old building, seeping through the cracks of the flagstones as arched windows gaze forlornly over the ruins, watching in silent grief as the remains of the once mighty fortress are forgotten. For the inhabitants of the castle have long since passed away.

Once, the castle was the home of many great kings. Feasts were held in its grand halls to honour the victorious in battle, and many a king was crowned within its walls. Its defences were the strongest in the land, although none dared to threaten such a powerful fortress.

None until the Shadow Casters came into existence.

They swept over the country of Arnechaea as swiftly as passing thunder clouds, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their path. Villages crumbled in the cold grip of their gnarled fingers, and soon only the strongest and best defended cities remained. But the Shadow Casters had an ultimate goal, a goal that they would give anything to achieve. They would bring down the mighty city of Strangea, the most powerful city in the kingdom, and the only city in Arnechaea with a proper fortress. King Harle, who had lived for so long in harmony, resisting the Shadow Casters whenever they posed a threat to his neighbours, would be brought down with sword and flame and his kingdom destroyed. Here the Shadow Casters would form their own race of people, a people devoid of happiness and love, a people deprived even of the life they craved. Together, the Shadow Casters and their people would overturn every kingdom in the land, killing all who stood in their way. Life would be extinguished as easily as blowing out a candle, and an empire would be created so full of death, and pain, and loss, that the very essence of the world would be dissolved. The earth would stop spinning. Time would stop.

The Shadow Casters would be free.

Larya sat on the hard wooden bench, hands clasped neatly in her lap. Her tutor, a short, stout man of fifty with intelligent eyes and a bristly beard stood in front of her, a wooden pointer protruding from his stubby fist as he gestured towards the blackboard behind him.

“As you can see, the population of Arnechaea has increased by approximately ten percent in the last twenty years, which, as you know, is mainly due to immigration because of the movement of the Shadow Casters across nearby kingdoms. We’d better finish now, or you’ll be late for the feast. You don’t want to miss your father’s departure now, do you?”

Larya scowled. Professor Ruddimere sensed his pupil’s discomfort, and his brow softened.

“It is not a princess’s place to fight,” he said gently. “Your father wants you to be safe. He knows best.”

“Yes.” Larya stood up and headed slowly for the door. “Father knows best.”

The feast was held in the Dining Hall. Long oak tables creaked and groaned with the

weight of meat, vegetables, potatoes and all manner of food as everyone in the castle gathered to honour the King and his army before they departed that evening. Larya sat at a table on a raised dais with the rest of the royal family, between her father and brother. All around Larya was the sound of laughter and excited chatter as the people of the castle talked about the coming battle. Everyone was eager for the people that had brought so much terror to the surrounding kingdoms to be finally destroyed. All the soldiers due to leave with the king were revered by the people, and gifts of food, wine and lucky charms were pushed into their hands as they passed by the long tables where the king’s subjects sat. Larya sullenly watched the nearest soldier as he unwrapped a brown package given to him by a friend, her frown deepening as the man’s face lit up at the sight of a lucky charm on a gold chain. She ate her meal in silence, picking at her food and glaring at anyone who tried to talk to her.

King Harle himself stood up when all the food had been eaten to address his subjects.

“As you have all heard, my loyal soldiers and I will be departing tonight for Tŏurnach. Our friends in the next kingdom are in grave danger from the Shadow Casters. They may be few in number but are strong in mind and body, and therefore pose a great threat to our friends. It is our responsibility as neighbours to protect Tŏurnach against enemies, and so we leave tonight with the hope of defeating the Shadow Casters and returning home within the next two months. I must urge you who remain to stay calm. Our army is large; our defences strong. The Shadow Casters will not break us. We will win through the determination and courage of our people. We will not be defeated!”

He shouted this last, and his cries were met by a deafening cheer. Hope sparked in the eyes of the King, hope that was reflected in every one of his subject’s eyes.

They would not be defeated.