Long time ago, the faer were a large part of the land, and their land Faeria that lay between the rivers Enor and Fae was the most prosperous kingdom in the entire world. The magic that the fae possessed made them far superior to the humans in the land, and in a fit of recklessness and a greed for power, humans tried to take what was not rightfully theirs. They convinced one of the faer to turn them into magic users, but the spell went terribly wrong, and they were cursed into eternal darkness, daevils they were called, the sworn enemy of all things good. King Faernir thought they were gone, and that his land was once again safe, but all wonderful things come to an end, and so did his empire…
Fire, fire was everywhere, blazing friend and foe alike as they tried to flee from the inferno of the burning city of Faeria. The faer were fighting powerfully, but the daevils were too many. They had been hiding for a long time, slowly infiltrating the city that had finally been opened to humans to reside in. The coup had started in the night, with Andhkaara, their leader, attacking the palace. Faer were falling everywhere as the magic pulled away their energy, freezing their blood on the inside.
There was nothing to do, and no one to save. They were a doomed race now. Faernir darted between the marble columns adorning the public square, searching frantically for his friend and sworn shield Faerswon. They were inseparable under normal circumstances, the magical bond they had bringing them closer, but the current situation was hardly normal. He heaved a sigh of regret when he realized he could wait no longer.
He fled the city through one of the large holes the daevils had managed to create in the walls of the city. The thick trees seemed to murmur a welcome, but he ignored them and kept running. There was nowhere safe for him in the forest. He was on the top of every daevil’s list to kill. He knew they needed to wipe out the empire completely, and never have to worry about anyone rising from the ashes to take it back.
He ran as fast as he could, wondering about the fate of his city, and that of the rest of his empire. He knew all five cities were under attack -Faeria, the capital from where he had escaped, Ellara the cavernous underground city to the north, Aquaeisia by the lakeside, Valliera in the small river valley, and Aerana in the mountains.
He did not have too many wounds, but he was fatigued, and the horrors of the attack were still fresh in his mind. He refused to believe that he had left his friend behind. He tried to keep the pace he had set but soon began to tire. It was dark everywhere now, and he finally collapsed when he could go no farther. He needed food, and water, but there was none to be found and he had no energy to get any. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off into a sleep full of nightmares.
He woke late into the next day, panic and hunger gnawing at his insides. With nothing to eat but fruits of the trees the forest had to offer, and no water expect what he could gather from the continuous drizzle, he was nearly dead with exhaustion when he broke clear of the thick forest.
He could smell the sea air even this far from the coast along with the strange smell of fish that any region in Hydrenia, the human coastal kingdom seemed to always possess. A dirt track led into a meadow, and beyond that stood a little white house. Stumbling up the path, he knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer.
A young woman opened the door. She was tall and slender and had a faer look about her. Her auburn hair swept past her waist and her bright blue eyes twinkled as though she knew all the secrets in the world. Faernir could not help but stare, she was breathtaking.
"If you are done staring young traveler, may I ask what you are doing at my doorstep?" she asked sweetly, her eyes shying with mirth.
Faernir blushed slightly, dropping his head. “My apologies, madam. Did you hear news of the attack on Faeria? I come from there. I need shelter.”
She shook her head and looked at him as if he was mad. "Why would I, a lone woman take in a traveller who happens to appear at my doorstep one day and claim to be one of those creatures whom we barely see outside their enchanted forest?”
He breathed deeply, trying to keep himself conscious. "You should take me in because I am innocent. Or forget innocent, my dear lady, I am hungry, fatigued and..."
He never got to finish what he had to say, for the hunger, thirst, pain and fear of the past few days caught up with him all at once and he collapsed on her front porch.
She stared at him and sighed. "I suppose I will have to care for you now." She dragged him in and laid him on the bed, wondering if she would regret taking in this stranger with a wild, fearful look in his eyes.
But she was not heartless, and she cared for him until he was well. Even after that, she let him stay, and learnt that he was Faernir, the king without an empire. She learnt that he was honorable, loyal, brave, wise, humorous, and guarded.
He in return learned that she was called Ivrin and had lived in the lone farmhouse for the past three years. She was sweet, shy, charming, lovable, loving and stubborn to a fault.
When a few months passed, he considered leaving, but they were far too much in love, and so the king without an empire found his queen, and they thought that they would live happily ever after.
A few years later…
Ivrin called out to her husband, “Come watch Faila while I go buy us some bread from the village. Do not keep her awake, she is tired after her run in the field.”
Faernir nodded, and picked him his giggling infant daughter. “Shall I sing you a song, little one?” he cooed, and then slowly started to hum, weaving a spell of tranquility over the house and lulling his daughter to sleep.
It was then that he heard the war horns that indicated a Solerian tribe. They were nomads living in the desert, and they raided both Hydrenians and each other for supplies. It was a hard life, but Faernir had heard they were usually honorable men. But he knew honor would not spare his life.
Taking Faila into the meadow, he placed in her favorite bush of flowers and placed a charm over her quickly. He did not want her to grow up knowing who she was meant to be. He took of the royal ring he wore, and tied it around her neck with a piece of twine from his pocket.
“I love you my little princess,” he whispered, and then he went back into the house, ignoring his daughter’s pleas for him to come back.
When he exited through the front porch, he saw Ivrin dead at his feet and the last thing he saw before he died was the flag flying on the ramparts of the walls and his daughter’s shining violet eyes.
The young boy foraged among the bushes, hoping to get something home for his sick mother. As he bent down amongst the herbs, sniffing each one cautiously, he heard a little whimper. Pushing aside the foliage he found Faila wrapped in a purple blanket, tears threatening to spill from her deep violet eyes.
"Hush, little one," he said, "I have you. You'll be safe now."
He took her back to his tribe, and convinced his grandfather that the little girl, his little sister now, was his and no one could hurt her. Her blanket had Faila embroidered on the hem, and so he named her that. She begun her life as an ordinary girl in a Solerian tribe, used to raiding and a hard life, not magic lessons and the wonder of being a princess.
Faerswon felt as if someone was cutting out his heart. The fiery pain in his chest could only mean one thing. Faernir was dead, his spirit roaming the world freely. But that should make him dead too. And there was only one way that could be stopped. It meant that Farenir had given birth to an heir.
And he swore to himself that he would find the heir, even if it was the last thing he did. Faeria would become theirs once again and nothing could stop him from getting justice.
And so the search began...