P R O L O G U E

The harsh wind howled by the mountain's steep cliff. Its bitter cold whip seeped through her body only clad with silk nightwear reaching mid-calf, and was blending well against her sun-kissed complexion like a second skin. Her aching bare feet shifted, slender arms tightening its embraced 'round her midriff, while hot tears endlessly streamed down her flushed cheeks.

A good twenty minutes had past yet she couldn't tear her sullen amber eyes off to the distant valley where columns of dark smokes rose in the atmosphere from the only place she once called home, now burning down to embers.

Her shoulders shook uncontrollably, vision blurring as a dreading realization came to her.

She had nowhere to go.

And if the gods permitted, she'd like to follow her father's unjustified execution rather than fleeing as a fugitive for the rest of her life.

Executed.

The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. Resentment blossomed in her being at the recollection of what triggered her sire's demise.

Minister Romulus III.

None in the country of Grevus knew who or what the Minister and his progenies looked like, except for his trusted council members, Astrēon, and estate staff who had taken a life oath of secrecy about their ruler's identity. Her father was one of those. A loyal council member to the Minister, but was accused of attempted divulging of the Minister's identity to neighboring countries.

Lies!

Her father was anything, but a traitor!

Her jaw clenched tightly at the thought. She'd prove them all! She'd stop at nothing to clear her father's name. And when that happened, she swore that the rest of the Minister's lineage would face the same fate unjustifiably subjected to her father.

This she swore by her life.

Taking one last mournful glance at the burning manor, she pivoted and fled towards the line of humungous trees with only the last light of day serving as her guide.

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