Chapter the First

Eighteen years later

Eloa swam into the cave she and her mirree, her mother, had shared all those years ago. She looked at the jars of sea plants on the shelves and the tools carved of shell. They were just the way she remembered them, from that terrible day. So much had changed, yet so little.

Eloa asked herself again- Why? Why? Was it mischance? Was it planned? She knew the Maker planned everything, so it was a silly question.

But why had Seema, her mother, her confidante, her only family, had to die?

The candles are lit to chase away the dusk
As I sit down at my writing desk
With my quill pen and bottle of ink
The task falls to me to record a quest
I dip the pen in the dark liquid ink
And spread a parchment before me
The nib touches parchment, the ink flows
The room fills with a thousand shapes I barely see
As I write, a unicorn prances across the desk
His hoofs wave, with his horn he defies all
Now marching past, a line of kings
Grim and noble before their house's fall
A dragon winging by, iridescent purple