Estyr

Prologue

She swayed slowly from side to side as she stood on the balcony of the castle overlooking the city below. Hirgon, the capital city of the kingdom of Estyr was a sight to behold. Even the most stoic man in existence would have quite a hard time not being aghast at its beauty. This, however, was lost on her as she hummed with her eyes closed. Her melodious voice filled the balcony with the tune of a lullaby she remembered from her own years as a child.

The reason the beauty of the city was lost on her was not because her eyes were closed but that she held something far more precious to her in her arms. His warm tiny body held against her own as she rocked him to sleep. The little boy, her son, was a joy she’d never thought she’d ever experience. Only a decade before, had someone told her that a life like the one she presently had was possible, she would have thought them bereft of their senses.

How far they had come in a single decade was nothing short of a miracle. But then that was what hope did to you after three hundred years of hopelessness. She, at times, found it hard to believe that the city had been raised from rubble to the state that it was in, in just ten short years. But then again this was more than just buildings, they were celebrations. This was more than a city, it was a symbol. Here, they had made their stand against Sydrar, follower and servant of the god of death and his followers. Here they had turned back his tide of evil. Here they had claimed victory for the living. This city was a declaration of that victory.

Only she had never been sure that it was an actual victory. At times she thought herself prudent for being cautious, at other times she reprimanded herself for being paranoid. She often found herself worrying that they hadn’t actually won the war, that all they had garnered was a momentary reprieve. But after ten years without even the slightest sign to suggest that this was true, she was forced to admit that she was a soldier that had grown too used to the war. A soldier that couldn’t acclimate to peacetime. Still, she remained cautious and watchful at all times. As queen, she also made sure that the whole kingdom especially the capital remained vigilant.

The royal order of wizards and witches were always on the lookout for any magical signs of Sydrar’s return. The royal order of knights each with a thousand soldiers in their command, patrolled the kingdom and its environs seeking out any physical sign that the servant of the god of death and his followers were back to wage war with the living. A task they took most seriously.

Both the knights and the soldiers had fought alongside her in the final battle ten years before. They all remembered all too well what life had been like back then. None wanted to ever see it go back to what it had been. If the price they would have to pay was to stand watch till their dying day, they would all too gladly do it.

A sigh left her as she pulled back her son to hold him before her. She opened her eyes to regard the one-year-old boy who was presently trying to fit his fist in his mouth. When she opened her eyes, they’d been a brilliant sapphire blue, then slowly turned to a jade green, then a bright sunflower yellow then a deep cherry red and so on, continuously taking on new colors. “Stubborn as your father,” she said giving up the attempt to get him to go to sleep.

The ends of the boy’s mouth pulled apart almost as if he was trying to smile around his fist. His eyes lit up almost as if he could understand her. They too were shifting colors. Had she had a mirror right then, she would have noted the fact that they were mimicking hers and following the same pattern hers were. A departure from the random manner in which they usually changed hues.

“Hopefully, you grow up to be the warrior that he is as well,” she added with a smile. Despite being slightly frustrated at his refusal to slumber, she drew joy from just looking into his eyes. It was he that gave her hope. Hope for a life that she had never dared imagine she could have. This little boy was the reason she had finally started to tentatively accept that maybe the war was indeed over. That they had won, that this was possibly the start of a new life.