It was a brisk autumn afternoon. Cyndr looked up into the sky and watched as the cream-coloured clouds rolled over one another in the wind. The crimson flames that danced in front of him were fanned by the cold breeze and tossed sparks up into the air. He could smell that it was almost time. Almost time for the first delicate flakes to fall from the pregnant clouds he stared up at. He had seen enough seasons come and go to know that this winter would be especially frigid. He knew that this winter would be very different. He knew now that his life could never be the same. The yellow-tipped tongues of flame licked and danced on the final embers of Cyndr‘s home. It had been just yesterday when he had been in the forest, collecting logs to fuel the fires that would warm his home during the coming season. Today, he stared at the charred remnants of the home he and his father had built. But it didn’t seem that he built it that long ago…
“There was nowhere else to look. Cyndr and his father walked in silence, further and further from the city’s walls. Nothing was said between the two; Cyndr knew that expression on his father’s face. Insulted. Rejected, but still proud. This was a look that he would never forget and would come to understand more fully in the years to come. It had been many times that Cyndr and his father had taken this walk. Angry, heads held aloft in defiance of those who would shun their kind. Those who feared strangers would not allow them into their homes and cities now. So Cyndr and his father were forced to wander, without hope, without a place to call their own. Alone in a great world of confusion and conflict.
Even now that the wars were over, their kind were not welcomed everywhere in the Flanaess. With nowhere else to turn, Cyndr and his father settled in a beautiful glade north of Rel Astra, on the southern brink of the Grandwood. There they found peace, tranquillity, and the privacy so coveted by their kind. This house had stood for more years than he could count now, and in an instant he had watched his life change. From being a peaceful artisan and scholar, Cyndr now found the peace and contentment in his heart vanish as though the wind blowing his silver hair stole it from him. The memories of long, quiet nights by his fire nagged at him. The love of his study of those ancient cultures before him made his heart heavy.
These thoughts seemed irresponsible to Cyndr now that his life had changed. His goal now was to right the wrongs done him; the loss of his home, the disruption of his peaceful lifestyle, and now most importantly of all: to assume the unlikely role of avenger.
