Ever since I was little, I have heard tales of giants.
It was the talk of sailors, washed ashore some days to restock and replenish their meats and ales, with beards to their knees and skins like sun-dried leather: hardened, hardy men who risked their mortal necks to brave the seas as their way of life; and yet, they spoke in hushed, reverent tones of "giants" who reigned in the realms beyond, and of Heraldesses: the two of which seemed to mysteriously coincide, as far as I could gather. Although, to what degree I could scarcely imagine...
Eventually, that would all change. I would come to reminisce about the "days before" as a time of innocence, to which I may never return. Since then, I have seen too much: I have stained my hands with blood that will never wash away, and I am no longer the same girl who existed within that place and time.
To think, it was a mere few months ago...
