Wings flash in a violet sky;
Nothing is as it seems.
Controlled by a will not their own,
Beguiled in dreams.
Misbegotten in beauty
From a land that will never grow old,
A world where truth is a lie
And not all kings wear gold.
The shadows draw long as I sit here at my desk, my fingers aching to accomplish the task I have begun. The quill is steady in my grasp, and the ink flows this time without complaint, though I think my one small bottle shall not last long. The crickets outside my window sing to me of the approaching night. My heart is quiet; the day is done, and I have found peace.
Save for those crickets.
But this story is not about me. I am merely the humble myndling privileged to tell this tale of loss and misfortune, hope and new beginnings, and the secrets that forever changed many lives. This is foremost a tale of courage–the courage to love and endure despite everything, to remain devoted and true, and to find the sunshine no matter how cloudy the day.
Perhaps I should begin at the beginning? Very well…