Ah Wester, what a beautiful kingdom. Lying flat with few gentle rolling hills, well they were much more like tiny bumps hardly worth calling hills; the land was perfect for farming and raising livestock. Long grasses and low-lying shrubs dominated the landscape between the farms and towns. It was spring and with spring came frequent showers that kept the earth smelling of water and new flowers that sprung up with the grasses but even with this seemingly peaceful atmosphere there was something festering. The quiet of the gentle landscape was almost too quiet; there were no sounds of the birds that lived within the grasses, shrubs and the occasional tree. Even the cattle were quiet. 

The towns and the villages that dotted the landscape were silent, none wandered the streets and those that did were bloodied or injured. War was upon the land and it was quickly heading to the last stronghold of Wester—the capital, Naif City. Named for King Naif, well the name that had been given to him by his people; it was in informal name as the King was almost unknown to his people. He was a fair ruler but many felt that he had left them too vulnerable. The peaceful nature of Wester had allowed the King of Nander to build his forces and invade their neighbor to the west. Wandering the vast flatlands between Naif City and the last village to fall, a woman wandered with a wound to her head and dried blood caked to her face. Shallow breathing broke the silence as she stopped to rest in the long grasses. With a day’s march a head of the soldiers, she would be able to make it back to the castle, to the King with a few precious moments to spare.

The walled city laid stretched across the horizon in a light, misty gray color. She was close enough now to nap for a few minutes. Sleep found the exhausted woman easily. She had been running for a while, having been ambushed on her way to the northern border where the King had assigned a few small groups of scouts and archers. She was a Graceling, one to be feared by those of the normal population. Her gift had been foresight, and through her gift she had seen the downfall of each and every one of the scouts and archers and she had been right. There was nothing left of the small outpost. That journey had been two days ago. It took three on horseback to get to Naif City. 

She had slept longer than she had thought, by the time she woke the sun was beginning to cast orange and gold across the sky. Her head was throbbing as she sat up quickly, her vision spun with black before things came into focus. Her dreams had been of her brother, Kalon. Both had been born into lower nobility but she had been given to the King when it was learned that her eyes had changed. Like her brother she had slate gray eyes at birth but gradually over the days and weeks one darkened slowly and soon her parents had realized that she was a Graceling. It had been Kalon who had noticed the color change of her right eye. It turned into the color of their mother’s favorite flowers—magenta. Sleep had done her some good; she felt energetic, a feeling that she had been lacking for several days. 

Walking towards the walled, light gray city in the distance she paced herself. The army of Nander would not walk at night, no one would. She was safe under the cover of the thick dark blanket that had replaced the gold and orange tones of the setting sky. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself to fend off the cold that blew from the sea, the woman’s torn clothes did little to aid her in keeping warm. 

Hours later when the moon was high in the sky she finally reached the gates to the walled city. Guards kept it closed. The entire kingdom knew of the war, they didn’t realize just how close it was coming to their doorsteps. “Halt!” The guards that sat perched on the wall above the massive gate could never be too trusting. One climbed down a simple rope ladder that could be pulled up onto the top of the wall. “Who are you?” his dull green eyes scanned her, “She’s a [i]Graceling[/i]!” He spat. Even if she worked for the King they still thought less of her. He brought the torch he had been holding closer to her face to get a better look at the colors of her eyes; Gray and magenta, marking her as the King’s. All Gracelings belonged to the king if they had a use, if they had something useless as a skill then they were sent back home where their families were forced to find work for them. “Name?” he asked none too politely.

“Loria.” There was no need for surnames if you were nothing more than a possession.

They opened the gates enough to allow her to slip inside, one guard climbed down the other side of the wall to escort her to the castle. She did not touch him even though her head was spinning and she needed to grab a hold of something to keep her balance as they made their way through the empty and dimly lit streets. The castle came into view soon enough. Located in the heart of the city it was also walled and kept heavily guarded. Knights guarded the interior and in addition to being soldiers they were key in keeping the peace in the sprawling city. Her brother would be in bed no doubt, as many were. Following the man into the castle she pressed a hand against the wall to steady herself as word was sent for the King. Loria, as she was called, was one that the King kept close to his side. Her ability was priceless even if it was something that she could not control. A short time later a man came running down one of the corridors that led to the private chambers of the royal family. His graying hair was kept short and it was messy from sleep. He was a handsome man, middle aged with eyes full of wisdom. “Your highness,” she bowed when he finally stopped before her. Loria’s vision went dark and she felt herself rushing for the floor.

“KALON!” The King roared for the blond knight had had accompanied him, “Help me carry her.” 

Together they carried Loria to the healing wing of the castle that had been set up for the knights. Kalon’s anger flared at seeing the blood on his sister’s face. The knight quietly left his sister in the hands of the healers to follow the King. He had gotten the news that the King had appointed Kalon to keep his daughter safe. The Princess was very dear to the King and he had often given the Princess her way, making her spoiled in the eyes of many. Loria had left without the consent of the King some time ago and this was how she was returned? Bloodied and as if she had seen—

The King paused in mid-step as he glanced back to Kalon. “Do you think?” he asked, unable to ask the rest of his question.

Kalon nodded, “My sister had been attacked. Perhaps they are closer than we think,” he said to the King. None but Loria knew the answer to that question and they would have to wait until she was awake to get that answer.

It was common knowledge that Gracelings were often targeted for acts of violence and sometimes even murder. This did not seem like one of those occasions. Kalon ran a hand through his straw colored hair as he waited for the King to speak once more. “Get some rest, Kalon.” The King said, “Tomorrow you will be guarding my daughter, you’ll need your rest.” 

The King bid farewell before heading into one of the many rooms that Kalon knew as one of the meeting rooms. With nothing left to do he headed back to the healing wing where he sat silently as his sister slept.