Prologue

The Lands of Elmon were beautiful, and still are. I grew up with the green grass and thick forest, rivers and skies. Though, even if the outside was beautiful, not every time things inside were.

The Nobel Family ruled the lands. Their ceremonies and ways of life passed down from generation to generation. The one’s I was bound too. I was the first born from my mother and father, queen and king.

“A boy!” My father had announced proudly to the kingdom. “Strong and healthy!” And it was good too, or else I most likely would have been killed if I had not been. I learned quickly, my teachers pushing me harder and harder. At the age of seven I wielded my first sword, and my sibling arrived. From generation to generation, you must have the opposite gender from your first born. Or else, the would bring death to the child, or exile them.

My mother and father found pity for the baby boy, and the queen gave the child to her sister. I did not know where the two fled too, and I didn’t understand why they had gone; why she took my brother. But he was too soon forgotten.

I was pushed hard in my trainings. I was stronger and faster than any nine-year-boy of my age. My father was proud, but my mother just gazed at me like just another child. They never showed me affection, and that is how I grew strong.

At the age of nine, my mother had another child. A baby girl. My mother adored the baby girl, taking her everywhere she could. When the baby turned a year old, and I ten, I was told the custom of the siblings. I would be the protector of my sister. Dying before even a mark was laid upon her.

From then on my training was from day to night. I learned the way of the sword, how to stalk and hunt, dodge, and most of all, protect. My teachers were merciless. They would take a young girl from some other city and have me protect her for the training. If they got past me, they would leave a scar on her skin.

I did protect them from death, but not scars. Some received worse than others, and some were put in the hospital wing. At the age of fifteen, my little sister six, I was fully announced her protector.

At first, she was cautious around me, only getting glimpses of me. After a few days she would laugh and play around me. She seemed to get that I would not bring her harm, the exact opposite, really. She would run to me if guards passed us, hiding behind my legs and having me pick her up.

I enjoyed playing the older sibling. I wasn’t sure if I felt love for the little girl, or if it was just my position. She was the only one who showed me affection by hugging me, or, very rarely, kissing my cheek.

I went with her to her teachings, how she learned how to speak proper English and how to read and write. It had been the best time of my life.