As boisterous thunder rumbled throughout the land and a torrent of rain pounded away on the soil, millions of sparks of reddish lightning brightened up the night sky. It was our season for tempest storms; a solemn token of the evil that had penetrated the realm and of an oath that had yet to be fulfilled. A constant reminder of the dangerous circumstances we were all in.
The Kingdom of Aselaira was in peril.
Every one of its citizens was vulnerable, defenseless, and hopeless. Havoc and bloodshed permeated the land. The stone walls of Castle Edhel-N’dor, which were once beauteous and majestic, were deteriorating inside and out. There was no one left to see to its upkeep.
Every man, boy, husband, was fielded to the garrison to prepare for warfare. Every woman, girl, wife, set aside to clean, cook, and nurse the injured. As a servant in the castle, one must keep to your duties or stay in your chambers, and above all else slave after the needs of the royal family, especially the King.
I tried not to despair, as this was my everyday life. I was vulnerable, defenseless, but with every ounce of my being I refused to remain hopeless. Even as I was a servant in the castle, I had my special ability; my gift that I kept hidden. With much misery and sorrow, I kept Calen - my Fëa - hidden as well. Together, we used these abilities to find hope.