Hemeria was a realm of splendor, where the natural beauty was abundant in every corner. It was a vast tapestry of dazzling forests that stretched endlessly, their emerald canopies whispering secrets to the skies. Majestic mountains stood tall and proud, their snow-capped peaks piercing the heavens, while rolling hills and serene valleys painted a picturesque landscape. Deserts of golden sand shimmered under the sun's embrace, their dunes shifting like ocean waves. Large seas and vast oceans bordered the land, their waters merging into deep, crystal-clear lakes, fed by countless streams that wound their way through every kingdom like silver ribbons.Hemeria was governed by seven distinct kingdoms, each unique, each a world unto itself, with its own character and surprising contrasts. Daama, known as the first kingdom, was often celebrated as the "Land of the Free." Here, the spirit of innovation thrived, and advancements in technology and social justice shaped a progressive society that looked toward the future with hope and determination. Then there was Agalam, a kingdom some called the second, and others the third, a vibrant land awash with greenery, rich in cultural beauty, and steeped in age-old traditions. Next laid Samili, the fourth kingdom, a place of breathtaking scenery and deep-rooted customs, where the past was held close to the heart and cherished like a family heirloom.Olme, the fifth kingdom, shared a similar reverence for tradition but was now awakening to the call of modernity. They were on the rise, making strides in technology, positioning themselves as a valuable new ally to Daama. Kedama, the sixth, was still emerging from the shadows of development, but its people were known for their spirit and the stunning landscapes that dotted the kingdom. Lastly, there was Palak, the seventh kingdom, a place of storied history where many lands had once been under Daama's rule but had been free for over thirty years now.And then there was Pentor, a kingdom that claimed many things—at times declaring itself the second, and sometimes even the first. But Pentor was a land where freedom was scarce, where the powerful ruled with an iron fist over the weak and the poor. For over half a century, Pentor had been riddled with war, and with the rise of Maloi, the self-proclaimed king, twenty years ago—after he assassinated his own uncle—the land's suffering only deepened.Within this realm of turmoil, a young girl named Liya Shnaé was born. Liya's early life was shrouded in hardship. Her mother, Katna, was captured by slave traffickers and sold for a paltry sum due to her frail appearance to a farm owner named Mister Lalibal. Lalibal, a rugged man in his fifties with a penchant for liquor, was known for his attempts to treat his slaves decently, despite his flaws. He shared his home with his estranged wife, a striking yet cruel woman who viewed the slaves with contempt, and their two teenage children, a boy and a girl, who sadly inherited their mother's harsh disposition.Katna died shortly after giving birth to Liya, sealing the girl's fate. Yet, in the midst of this harsh existence, a small light shone. Mister Lalibal grew fond of the young girl, who he believed was as intelligent as her mother. He taught her letters, a rare privilege for a slave, and nurtured in her a love for archery—a passion he himself held dear. From a young age, Liya showed a raw talent for the bow. At the tender age of five, she and Mister Lalibal participated in a friendly archery competition organized by him and his friends and emerged victorious. He was immensely proud of her and continued to train her, despite the growing resentment from his wife, who was convinced that Lalibal had harbored feelings for Katna.Tragedy struck when Mister Lalibal, succumbing to his alcohol addiction, died in a fatal fall. With his death came a shift in power. To settle debts, his widow, driven by bitterness, decided to sell some of the slaves, disregarding Lalibal's policy of keeping families together. That is how, at just seven years old, Liya was torn from the only home she had ever known. She watched from a distance along with the other slaves, tears streaming down her face, as Mister Lalibal was laid to rest in the ground. And just a week later, she was dragged away to be sold at a slave market in town.Her new owner, Mister Druk, was a man with a cruel streak, a large farm owner and an official in a distant region to the east. He ran his estate with his younger brother, Baram Druk, a vicious man who took pleasure in the suffering of others. The farm was notorious, a place where cruelty was routine, and the weak were subjected to relentless torment. Here, Liya experienced pain like never before—harsh punishments that left scars on her back and legs, her head constantly shaved to strip her of dignity.The men of the Druk's farm were merciless, their brutality boundless. Liya's intrepid nature often brought her under scrutiny, and her new masters despised her for it. She faced severe punishments for even the smallest perceived infractions, and one of their favorite forms of torture was to abandon the children in the rain for hours, only to mock them as they shivered and then force them to work the next day. The cruelty led to the deaths of several slaves, prompting Mister Druk to temper some of the more dangerous punishments, especially for the young and weak, but the environment remained one of fear and oppression.In this harsh world, Liya found a brief solace in a friendship with a girl named Tulis, a slave four years older than her who had become like an older sister. Tulis was a beautiful young woman who caught the unwanted attention of Baram Druk and other men on the farm. She often lamented to Liya that beauty was a curse, bringing nothing but trouble. When Tulis was found to be pregnant at just fourteen, it only confirmed her fears. One night, Baram Druk was found dead, and while no one admitted to seeing what had happened, the air was thick with tension. Furious, Mister Druk lashed out, cruelly beating off slaves in retaliation, but no one spoke a word. Tulis, overwhelmed by her circumstances, eventually took her own life, a tragic end that shook Liya to her core.To maintain an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty, Mister Druk frequently sold slaves and purchased new ones, keeping them constantly on edge. When Liya was eleven, she was sold once more, this time to a man in his thirties named Ofe Tulung, a leader of an organization that claimed to fight for freedom. As Liya left the farm, she felt a mix of fear and hope—fear of the unknown and hope that perhaps, just perhaps, her new life might be different.To keep an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty, Mister Druk often sold a few slaves and bought new ones, maintaining a cycle of terror that kept them all grounded in their misery. When Liya was just 11 years old, she found herself being sold again. She felt a strange numbness as she left the farm, a mix of resignation and the cold tendrils of fear wrapping around her heart at the thought of the unknown that lay ahead.Her new owner was a man in his late thirties named Ofe Tulung, the charismatic leader of an organization that claimed to fight for freedom. Ofe Tulung and his men seemed particularly interested in children, some as young as seven. They boasted of purchasing their freedom and set themselves up as saviors, showering the children with words of hope and promise. The children were given a sense of belonging, a notion of true purpose, and then trained harshly. They were taught to wield weapons and indoctrinated with the belief that sacrifice was necessary to attain true freedom.At first, the children believed these promises of a brighter future, clinging to the idea that they had been saved. But Liya, even at her young age, quickly saw through their lies. She watched as Ofe Tulung and his men made deals and alliances with the very powers they claimed to oppose, working hand in hand with the system they professed to protect the children from. The reality was stark and cruel, and it wasn't long before Liya decided that she could not stay.A few months later, when the opportunity arose, Liya seized her chance and ran away. She managed to evade capture, and after a desperate chase, her pursuers believed she had perished. She fled into the wilderness, hiding in the mountains and forests, her small frame darting from shadow to shadow. Determined to escape the clutches of Pentor, she headed east, wandering aimlessly for weeks. She survived by foraging and hiding, her instincts sharpened by years of survival, until she reached the sea.There, she hid aboard a large boat that ferried her to a distant shore. When the crew discovered her, they threatened to throw her overboard, but seeing the desperation in her eyes, they abandoned her at the docks. Weak and exhausted, she was soon accosted by law officers.The officers, seeing her frail state, offered her food and water, though she barely ate, too terrified and wary to trust anyone. When questioned about her origins, Liya refused to speak, afraid they would send her back to Pentor. Eventually, a kind young woman was brought in, a translator who spoke several languages, including Liya's own. She reassured Liya that she was safe now, that no one would harm her. Tentatively, Liya confessed that she had fled from a place called Zaden in Pentor.Liya soon discovered she was in Kiram, a land within the borders of Palak, the Seventh Kingdom. Here, although life was still fraught with its own struggles, there was a semblance of freedom.After a medical examination and a brief stay in a hospital to regain her strength and heal her wounds, Liya underwent a psychiatric evaluation. She was then sent to a small orphanage in the southern part of Kiram.