To tell our story we must travel to a land,

a land of storms, mountains and contraband.

Adventures happen and tales begin

in this land of magic and misshapen mystery.

The land of Pourvalel.

Pourvalel sits high above the ocean's waves

by a mountainous region full of caves.

And in a castle high above

kings and queens sit upon an ivory throne.

On a moonlit, starry night,

under the cover of the darkest light,

there came runners of horrid fright.

They carried flame and steel,

flint and wood.

They came unto the castle.

They barged and banged its gates down,

flooding into the walls.

This was the beginning of the end

of the royal house of Pourvalel.

A rebellion has sprung up within the darkness of that night,

never to be forgotten or to be brought before the light.

Its leaders angry; its people impulsive

and their fire-filled hearts; reapers of chaos.

It was in the depths of this star-filled night,

that a baby was born into a world of terror.

She was the last heir of royalty,

but never was she fated to sit upon the throne.

Within the hour of her birth

when the child had yet to receive a name,

she was spirited away from her sieged home,

into the dawn, on the back of a raven-colored steed.

Jacqueline was but a simple maiden,

set to be nursemaid and attendant to the queen.

She was there the night the princess was born,

and it was she who took the newborn child away from her castle

and its storm.

They ran to a hill both tall and steep,

where Jacqueline called upon the majestic lord of the night,

who's coming would make anyone else shiver with dread.

But she stood unafraid,

and boldly asked the magnificent Pegasus

for a ride.

Soon the maiden, the princess, and the winged horse

were past the border

of the country Zinador and its brother Pourvalel.

Then, like her mother, Hayden, had done for her,

Jacqueline raised the princess

by the sea.