Such windy nights in Agrakan were not uncommon around this time of year. With the city’s lights blinking in the distance, it was a beautiful sight to see. The tufts of high grass blowing in the rushing currents of air, the clean blue moonlight shining down and enchanting everything. And of course the girl, with ordinary brown hair and ordinary tan skin. Bathed in the glow of the moon, she was collecting what seemed to be herbs. If you were to move closer, you would her the gentle hum of her beautiful voice. It was a voice that could be heard in the marketplace during the busiest times of the day, haggling prices and settling disputes among owner and customer. It was a voice heard at the orphanages, reading to the children, or making comments as she heard story after story of why her country’s’ failings had led to the abandonment of the child. It was a voice heard in the training grounds of the Swordmaster of the Queen, among the clang of swords meeting in arduous battle. But where the voice was mostly heard was in the palace, floating around every corner as she hummed her tunes of contentment for all to hear.
But if it was anything about her that stood out beside her voice, it was her eyes. A forest green, almost the color of moss, which her mother said she inherited from her father. Her father, who she had never met, to her recollection.
And she was one of the strongest people that I have ever met, which is why I am choosing to tell you her story.
Her name?
Sienna.
