What I am about to tell you is the truth; the unaltered tale of the birth, death, and rebirth of our world. You may be surprised at how different my story is from the one you hear the bards and dancers tell around the fire. Alas, those who put history to song to fireside story have the unfortunate habit of adding and removing things they should not. The penholders add their own perspective; the bards add romance where there is none and joy where, in reality, there was only tragedy and death.

I wish I could start in the beginning, but I cannot. I knew not the story of my true past for so very long that it only appropriate that I start with my awakening, for, though it is not where it all began, it is the event which started my story and sent our world spiraling into a period of darkness and war the likes of which had not been seen for millennia.

I have since been told that my awakening spanned the course of a hundred years. The twitch of a wing, the movement of eyes beneath closed lids, the slightest parting of the lips: all signs to the monks who guarded me that I would soon awaken. I think, in that timeless, numb sleep, that I dreamed. Though of what, I will never be sure. I vaguely remember brief flashes of emotions in the void of unconsciousness; anger, fear, wonder… but of the images that accompanied these emotions, I can recall nothing.

I woke gradually, slowly clawing my way out of the infinite darkness that was my magical slumber. My mind was foggy at first, my thoughts slipping away before I could grasp and understand them. At first, there was nothing but absolute numbness. Of my body, I felt nothing. Indeed, at that point, I wasn’t even sure if I had a body or even what a body was. But as time wore on, the numbness slowly dissipated and I remember my first physical feeling being one of intense cold.

After a period which could have lasted mere seconds or even years, I know not which, my elusive thoughts became more coherent and I became aware of my own great confusion.

Where am I? Who am I? What am I? Why is it so cold?

These questions drifted unanswered through my clouded mind as I slowly became more and more aware of my own body. Specifically, how utterly cold and uncomfortable it was. I felt oddly weightless, and I got the impression that I was somehow floating, as there was nothing solid that I could feel beneath my feet.

Instinctively, I tried to stretch my freezing limbs, only to find that I could not move. My brain was too muddled to fully send the message to my limbs that was required for movement. My inability to move caused me to feel a faint tinge of fear that penetrated my clouded mind, driving me further towards full awareness. I struggled to move my frozen body, and was finally, with an intense effort, able to clench my hands into tiny fists, the freezing cold making even that small movement painful.

I managed, briefly, to force my eyes open, but immediately shut them, uttering a tiny mew of pain as I was blinded by a brilliant light that seared my sensitive eyes with intense, burning pain. My head pounded and my eyes ached horribly, and I hung there shaking for a long time as I waited for the pain to subside. Eventually it reduced to a dull ache and I finally worked up the courage to attempt to open my eyes again. Bracing myself, I forced them open again and struggled to keep them open long enough to adjust to the blinding light.

Spots of bright light danced before my eyes as they slowly came into focus and I was able, for the first time, to examine my surroundings. I found, to my infinite confusion, that I was floating midair inside what appeared to be a brightly glowing sphere. The walls of my odd surroundings pulsed with a radiant white light that hurt my eyes to stare at. As hard as I tried, I found it impossible to see through the walls of my prison (for a prison was indeed what it was).

I did, however, take great comfort in seeing my own small body for the first time. Great knee-length locks of silver-blue hair floated around me, seeming to give me a silvery aura. I found, to my alarm that my skin was tinged dangerously blue with the cold and, as I looked at it, I realized that if I did not find a way to warm myself soon, I would most certainly freeze to death.

This realization gave new strength to my frozen limbs and I twisted around, suddenly frantic, my wings pushing against my prison walls, to no avail. I did not know who, what, or even where I was, but I was very aware of the danger of my situation and of an overwhelming need to break free from my icy confinement. As I struggled vainly against the glowing walls and thought, I have to get out of here! It grew colder the more I struggled and I began to know true panic. Was I to die a cold and lonely death, knowing nothing of myself or where I was?

I was cold, so very cold, and the tears of pain that leaked now from my eyes quickly turned to ice in the air and floated around me, sparkling like hundreds of tiny diamonds. My body was tired, finally, from struggling and, with a feeling of utter despair, I managed to curl into a tiny shivering ball and wrapped my wings and hair around myself for warmth.

I must have blacked out then because I remember the sound of many voices startling me out of unconsciousness, I could hear them clearly but their words made little sense to my ears. There were dozens of them, all babbling frantically away in some unintelligible language, until one deep and distinctly male voice rose above them all in a sharp, demanding tone.

“Vala! Hetara la cora celesa tone!”

Immediately, the babbling ceased and I heard slow footsteps that stopped right outside of my prison.

“Vaskui,” the voice said, apparently talking to me, “Mala sahlay?”

Confused and in pain, I shook my head, looking toward the voice as if staring at the wall of ice that imprisoned me would help me to understand his words.

“Mala sahlay?” he asked again, and I closed my eyes with a feeling of despair. How could I ask for help if I couldn’t understand him? I opened my mouth and attempted to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. I coughed violently then tried again. This time, I was both surprised and pleased when the voice that flowed past my lips had a pure, sweet sound to it, almost musical in quality.

“Please,” I pleaded, “I don’t understand! Please tell me where I am!”

I heard the astonished babbling of the voices beyond the sphere until the man’s voice silenced them again.

“Sahlay non,” he said his voice suddenly gentle. “Hayta tron?”

I shivered violently and a few more tears slipped from my eyes. If only I could understand what he’s saying! I thought, I could ask him to let me out of here! It’s so cold!

“Please!” I cried, “I don’t understand what you’re saying! Please just let me out of here, I’ll freeze to death if you don’t!”

The man gasped a little in astonishment at the sudden desperate tone of my voice. I found myself wishing that I could see him and wondering what strange language he was speaking. He was silent for so long after that, that I began to wonder if he had left, abandoning me to an icy death. The hope that had flared inside me at hearing the voices faded as I waited, growing colder by the minute and beginning to despair completely of escaping, resigning myself to death.

When, finally, he spoke again, I jerked in surprise and cried out with the pain the movement brought me.

“Hetala… tala cad free mala san?” his voice was soft and hesitant.

Hope flared again in my heart. I understood some of that!

“Yes!” I cried, nodding vigorously. “Free! Please free me!”

The man spoke again, this time more confidently and in a slow and deliberate voice, “Free? Rare sala allowed nisa free noa?”

My eyes widened in sudden understanding. This man obviously knew little of my language and was trying his hardest to communicate with me. “Free? Are you allowed to free me?” I repeated his words. “Is that what you said?” I nodded and made a show of struggling against the walls of my prison. “Yes, please! Let me out! Free!”

The man made a pleased sound and I heard him bark what sounded like a command to the other voices, followed by the scrambling of many hurried footsteps. Did he understand me? Are they going to help me?

As if in answer to my thoughts, there was a sudden enormous clang on the outside wall of my prison. I grinned in triumph. They had understood! The clanging continued and suddenly a crack appeared in the walls. The sight of this flooded my freezing limbs with new strength and I began to once more struggle violently against the confining walls, kicking and stretching against them, and finding to my delight that they were beginning to give way under my efforts.

More cracks appeared and I kicked violently at them, delighting in the feeling of freeing myself. I don’t know how long we labored, me and my mysterious benefactors, but what seemed like hours later, I kicked at a particularly large crack and suddenly found myself falling.

I caught a brief glimpse of a rapidly dissolving glowing ball of ice above me, my former prison, and of a large room that appeared to be a temple full of men in silver robes. My mind had only a second to register this and an overwhelming feeling of warmth, wondrous warmth, before I hit the floor and slipped once again in to the black void of unconsciousness.

I was dying. At least that’s the only way I know now how to describe the feeling, having been very close to death many times in my lifetime. I felt as if I was falling endlessly. Then slowly, before my eyes, the darkness gave way to a scene, which I witnessed as if from a distance.

A small girl cowered on the floor, shivering in fear and pain as a large man stood over her, as rough and cruel looking as his voice sounded when he snarled, “Scum! Filth of the Earth!”

The words seemed to trouble the girl more than the vicious kick to the stomach that followed them. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and covered her head with her arms. She clenched her eyes tightly shut, losing herself to a world of pain. She appeared to be unaware when the blows actually stopped but the loud laughter of the man, his receding footsteps, followed by the slamming of a barred door seemed to startle her.

It was a long time before she moved, but when she did it was with great difficulty and obvious pain. Blood streamed down from where she had bitten her lip, and dark bruises were already starting to cover her body. Any normal child in her situation would have cried. But the girl just sat there, leveling her blank gaze at the wall of her prison cell. “I know you’re there.” She whispered. “Go away and forget me. Forget this. Forget everything.”

And I was lost. Falling away from the scene and into another endless void.

I remember my second awakening as a rather violent one. It was as if my spirit was thrown violently back into my body because I jerked upright with a startled gasp of agony. My wings ached horribly and my head decided that pounding unpleasantly was a good idea.

I opened my eyes but saw nothing. The room I was in had no light, but the surface under my aching body was soft and comfortable. I stretched tentatively and gasped as I realized that I was clothed in something that felt silky and wondrous against my skin. I was alone in the dark, I had no idea where I was or who I was, and I was in terrible pain.

But at least I was warm.