"Excerpt from the Journals of Leandra Alia Jollords, the beginning of Spring, 1459."
"I existed as a mere puppet, bereft of any capability to shape my own destiny. From my very birth, my heart lacked empathy, leaving me unable to comprehend or support the struggles of others. In due course, I became akin to a beast, driven only by the lure of a prize, forever subservient to the machinations of others.
Regardless of whether my path led me towards the dazzling light or the ominous shadows, life never granted me a chance to truly seize the concept of free will. Always shackled to the decisions made for me, I was held captive like a mere pawn in a treacherous game of fate. Two powerful wizards, like puppeteers, pulled at the strings of my destiny, while I drifted aimlessly like a fallen leaf, tossed about by the winds of change with each passing season, watching precious years wither away.
Perhaps this was my wretched curse; never anchored with a true sense of purpose, little did I realize the far-reaching impact my choices would have on others. My greatest regret is that I failed to foresee the inevitable repercussions of my actions, allowing my beloved niece Allendra to remain cloaked in uncertainty and waste her potential before my very eyes.
After spending a few more days in Anthedia for Alleyna's funeral and bidding Alleyna a meaningless farewell in Anthedia, Elaphar had whisked us away to a hidden Orion Abbey nestled within the Stardust Mountains near Harven.
This sanctuary served a dual purpose as a nursing home and sanatorium, where the skilled hands of the Orion priests tended to the shattered mind of Alex, whose sanity had all but crumbled, and provided the necessary care for Allendra, a mere babe in desperate need of a mother's tender love - a need I, sadly, could not fulfill. The old sage vanished shortly thereafter, leaving with the promise of a swift return.
We spent what seemed like an eternity within those hallowed halls, though time itself lost all meaning and slipped through my grasp like grains of sand. How often had I yearned to flee without even so much as a glance behind me? But I knew that attempting to slip the grasp of Elaphar was a fool's errand, a feat that could not be accomplished without the approval of the powerful mage. Yet, the old sage had presented me with an unexpected opportunity to escape by leaving us in a public place like the Orion Monastery, as if testing my loyalties.
To this very day, the reason for my decision to stay with my niece remains as enigmatic as ever, even to myself. It wasn't because of a sworn oath or a deep love for my niece, although I must admit to being petrified of the old wizard. But such terror alone was insufficient cause for my choice. Perhaps my fascination with Allendra's latent potential was the closest answer. I yearned to witness if the prophecies spoke true, and if she could transform into a formidable being.
Then, on a fateful day, a mysterious fire erupted in the monastery, originating from the nursery where two-year-old Allendra was playing. Out of nowhere, Elaphar reappeared, and during his brief return, presented me with new conditions for a fresh start, with no guaranteed reward awaiting me at the end of the road.
"As of now, you shall be Lena from Harova. Rule number one: you shall not remain in any place for more than a moon's cycle," decreed the old man as he began to list the rules that would lay the foundation for a life of exile.
"Cities are forbidden. North and West are barred to thee. You shall only traverse the path I have set forth, first east, and then south to Illuthar."
"Do not tarry in well-known inns. Steer clear of dark alleys. Meld into the throngs like a specter. Do not forge friendships. Do not form bonds. Do not borrow, do not lend."
"On thy journey, you shall encounter members of our Sect, the Deep Wanderers. Fear not, they shall find thee. Trust only those who offer thee dried yellow sycamore leaves. Be wary of all others, no matter who they may be."
"Do not speak of thy past to the girl. Neither speak truth nor falsehoods. Let her remain ignorant until the time is ripe."
"When will that be?" I queried.
"When the time is fitting, and that is for me to decide, not thee."
And with that, the old man took Alex, whose mental state showed no signs of improvement, and prepared a spell to vanish once more.
"Where are you taking him?" I asked before the old man disappeared.
"The Orion priests have secret abodes of healing. There, he shall receive proper care."
"Is there any hope for him?" I asked even though I didn't care.
"Little, if any."
"And what shall I do?" I implored, my heart heavy with despair. "I am but a feeble witch, with no means, no sustenance. How shall I protect this innocent child from all our foes?"
Elaphar, with his conceited smile, responded, "Fear not, Tis not thy concern. I shall be the shield that guards her. Thy only task is to hide behind the guise of Lena of Harova and follow the path I have charted. Save a prayer for your own path."
With those words, his letter of threat to me was sealed.
"As for sustenance," the old man continued, proffering a leather pouch filled with glinting coins. "This should suffice to get thee started. The rest shall be left to fate and thy penance."
He handed me a worn map and reminded with finality, "Remember! You shall not remain in any one place for more than a moon's cycle. Forge no new bonds. Cut off all ties to the past. My gaze shall be upon thee, Leandra Alia Jollords, now known as Lena from Harova. This is thy last chance. There is no room for error."
I sighed heavily, recognizing the gravity of my situation. "This is an exile," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"Call it what you will," the sage replied calmly. "Consider it an itinerant school of life for the child. Ensure she receives the correct knowledge. Perhaps then, you may rid thyself of some of the stain on thy conscience. This is the last I shall say. May thy path be bright and free of shadows," he said before vanishing into the ether.
Three and a half years had passed since we departed from the monastery and embarked upon a life of nomads. It was a simple statement, but belied the harrowing reality - more than a thousand nights of restless fear.
In the first year, time flew by in a blur of constant vigilance, as we sought to avoid trouble and evade any ominous figures shrouded in black. Every few months, a mysterious figure draped in enigmatic grey robes would appear, bearing a yellow sycamore leaf and a purse of coins, along with sporadic instructions from the wise old sage. But with the passage of time, such encounters grew less frequent, leaving us to fend for ourselves. I confess, I found some measure of relief and comfort in our independence, though the weight of responsibility was often heavy on my shoulders.
As our second year in exile began, our funds dwindled perilously low, and I was forced to resort to fortunetelling and healing to make ends meet. Though we were not wanted by the law, I made a habit of checking for any posters bearing our likeness. The burden of my conscience weighed heavily upon me, and I could not afford to let down my guard.
The early years of the empire were fraught with hardship, and the country, fresh from a century of civil war, was still navigating a tense period. Though the impact of the new era had yet to fully reach the remote villages, times remained tough, and the locals Though the impact of the new era had yet to fully reach the remote villages, times remained tough, and the locals showed little interest towards the wandering strangers like us who passed through their midst.
And I was often too preoccupied with daily struggles to think about anything else. Occasionally, I would hear tales of conquest and adventure, but most of the time, I was solely focused on making ends meet. The only moments of respite from the exile life came when fortune-telling at fairs went well, or when I could afford our stay in mid-level inns and indulge in average-quality wine and food. Yet, my penchant for drink sometimes led to trouble, and we were forced to leave several towns in haste Adjusting to a life of exile was not an easy feat.
As the second year drew to a close, I felt the weight of my spiritual descent growing heavier. My niece's burgeoning potential seemed to quicken my own decline, as if her exceptional intellect was a harsh reminder of my own limitations. Allendra had mastered the art of logical reasoning, reading, and writing at a tender age, surpassing her peers by leaps and bounds. As for myself, now known only as Lena from Harova for reasons of secrecy, I was in awe of the child's precociousness and adaptability to our harsh and transient lifestyle.
From the tender age of two, different than her peers, Allendra had led a nomadic life, never lingering in one town for more than a month. Despite the constant upheaval, Allendra's thirst for knowledge never wavered. I observed her with awe as her boundless curiosity and intelligence surpassed not only mine but also that of her mother, Alleyna. It soon became apparent that my niece's untapped talent was a constant source of anguish, slowly but surely tormenting me and corroding my spirit with each passing day.
As our second year on the road wore on, I took pride in my newfound skill of fortune-telling and became known as the Widow Black of Harova, albeit only in the remote border villages. This modest fame briefly fueled my ambition, but I still found myself drowning in sorrow and seeking solace in secret indulgences.
Meanwhile, Allendra was quickly discovering the complexities of life on the road. With an insatiable thirst for knowledge, my niece eagerly delved into the pages of books, scouring traveling libraries at fairs and even churches in the towns we visited. But as time went on, even the most mundane books failed to satiate her appetite for more profound understanding.
As the third year neared its mid-point, I found myself haunted by an unshakable sense of dread that gnawed at my very essence.
Was it the elusive enemy that skulked in the shadows, plotting our downfall? Was the dark mage still in hot pursuit, hounding us with his insidious sorcery?
Or was it the fear of the most potent wizard I had ever encountered, whose strict mandates I must adhere to lest I face his wrathful retribution?
Perhaps it was the bitter realization that I was doomed to lead a meager existence as a nomadic wanderer in this ancient land, where even the ruling elite turned a blind eye to the plight of the common folk.
Thus far, we had heeded the old wizard's commands with unwavering obedience, adhering strictly to the confines of the Illuthar Continent. Our journey spanned over twenty towns, commencing in Leachdan, then Roweland, and culminating in the southern reaches of South Galantry, after traversing the easternmost district of Harven. However, the rising whispers of rebellion brewing in Northern Galantry gnawed at my conscience, tempting me to stray from our predetermined course.
In the distant northwest, on the Behernath and Apharia Continents, the relentless war of conquest continued unabated. The absence of the Three Kings from their thrones fueled the people of Illuthar with mounting restlessness, driving them toward a rising tide of revolt. As one ever-attuned to the murmurs of the masses, I found myself consumed by mounting anxiety, fraught with worry over the unsettling rumors circulating amongst the populace.
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