Moonflame

Prologue

In the beginning, magic was vital. A way of life.

All forms of power existed in a time where it was seen as a gift, something to treasure and respect.
Even the most unhealthy half breeds had magic, completely and utterly unique to them and their lineage.

They respected those who didn't have magic, they helped those in need, they cared for those less powerful than them.

Until those less powerful, began to see themselves as something more.

When the Faelin wars broke out, it was every being for themselves. The Fae took place on their lands, while the witches defended all they had. The mountain men took refuge rather than fight, and the dwarves burrowed beneath the earth with their wealth and weapons.

Shapeshifters took the side of the Fae, helping to train their Gryphons for battle.

But humans, humans had nowhere to go. They split every which way, some went below, others up high.
Most went to Killian Drak.

The Drak king, the one who started it all.

There was talk of foul play, talk of a magic that had formed to eat other magic, a magic so evil even the witches who had brought it to life, knew that it only ever came with a price.

Killian was a fool though, a power hungry fool that sought to extend the boundaries of magic, who sought to devour those who stood against him. And so, the witches patron gave him a gift.

And that gift, brought the world to its knees.
Magic disappeared, and with it, the humans took a new position of power at Killian's side.
Blood magic destroyed everything beautiful, destroyed the Fae lands, destroyed all that was cherished by most.
It ate and ate and ate, until the humans became abominations themselves, all the while Killian stood above them, a puppet master jerking their strings.

They had never tasted such a magic, and they refused to let it go. Even as it ate away at their souls.

They attacked the Fae first, erasing the Queen and king, their only heir disappearing among the Frey. A princess long dead. A kingdom brought to ashes. They were hunted to near extinction. Only allowed half way across the continent with the promise of death should they ever cross onto their stolen territory.

They were defenseless without their gifts, their beautiful Gryphons slaughtered. The Shapeshifters went into hiding, their purpose lost without magic. Most disguised themselves as no more than human, some as woodland creatures.

The witches soon formed an alliance with the house of Drak, the most powerful alliance to this very day. Their power was unmatched.

The dwarves came to the Fae's aid long after the war was done, offering up the bare minimum in return for information on political stances. To which the Fae declined, but soon came to an agreement in terms of protection and gold.

The mountain men stayed quiet throughout history, staying to themselves and their own trial and errors. Very few knew much of them, or where their alliances were. But because of that, they were more often than not, seen as nothing more than an off limits neighboring kingdom.
Though they had supply trade roots at their foundation, they carried no extreme amounts of wealth or royalties. They were simply ghosts.

Just as the Fae were now.
Just as Lyra was, deep in her soul.
A ghost that once had a bright light, a ghost that once understood what life was.
Now nothing more than an empty shell, meant to scare those who believed in her away.

(To be continued...)