-17 years later-

The early sunrise poked through the small room, warming the dark corners with a golden glow. The grey stone walls were covered with pages of colourful paintings and drawings. Piles and piles of old worn books sat scattered across the floor in hazardous stacks, a few torn pages lay amongst the books.

A small wooden desk was pushed up against the far wall, it's one leg balancing precariously on a stack of books. A handful of tiny, pressed flowers lay strewn across the surface of the bare desk, their edges were wilted and dying. Towards the centre of the room sat an aged wooden bed that groaned and creaked with every toss and turn at night. Under the threadbare blanket lay a small figure, her light blonde hair flowed across the pillow like an icy waterfall. The loud banging on her door woke her from her pitiful slumber.

Elora groaned loudly at the intrusion, every morning they woke her up for breakfast the same way at the same time. With each knock, her day began like a well-rehearsed play. Each day followed the same pattern, one she knew off the back of her hand. Reluctantly she climbed out of her bed and pulled on a worn pair of ankle-grazing pants and a loose button-up shirt, which was currently missing two buttons. She would have to scrounge around for a new pair. Her soft leather slippers were laced up tightly before she announced to the guard outside the door that he could open the door.

Together they walked in silence through the empty corridor, down the staircase that opened into the large eating room filled with row after row of long wooden tables. There her meagre bowl of breakfast sat waiting and steaming on the table.

The rickety wooden table where she sat each day was empty save for the guard sitting across from her, keeping watch. Despite the pitiful food, Elora enjoyed breakfast time it was when she got to see everyone. During lunch and dinner, the inmates were separated into groups Elora was not put in any group, she kept to herself, not by choice.

As she spooned porridge into her mouth, she could feel the guard's hard eye, across from her resting on her face. She knew he was willing her to eat faster so they could get out of there, she supposed he felt uneasy sitting amongst criminals.

To spite him she purposely took small slow spoonfuls of her hardened porridge, cracking a small grin when she saw his jaw tighten. Over the previous years, the guards rotated but Virion was her favourite, with his large stomach and impatient manner he was so easy to rile up. It wasn't long before Virion was put in charge of her, much to his displeasure, she often heard him complaining to the other men about it. However, she thought he secretly preferred this job over his previous one, night watch. She was not sure why she was constantly watched over or why she was even here, but it has been that way since she was little and nothing had changed. It did not help that the other prisoners looked at her with disdain, even disgust, as well as some of the guards.

When she was a few years younger and old enough to notice the reaction her mere existence had on people, she had questioned Virion. At first, he was hesitant to answer but eventually, he told her it was because her parents were dangerous people and refused to say anymore. Elora did try asking the other guards, but they were as stubborn as Virion.

The closest she had gotten to an answer was from the old bookkeeper who looked after the prison's library. When she had asked him, his weathered forehead wrinkled as he looked at her. With troubled eyes, he told her of rumours about her parents and their involvement with magic. He stopped himself from telling her more, shaking his head as he walked away.

Elora was shaken from her thoughts when Virion slapped his hand loudly against the wooden tabletop, her spoon clattered against the bowl.

"Time to go to your room."

He grabbed her arm and lifted her off the chair, huffing to himself as they walked back to her room. Shaking her arm free, Elora addressed him.

"Do I really have to go back inside there...it's such a beautiful day."

Her head had turned to look out the small window carved into the wall. The tall stone building built into the mountainside gave them a clear view of the entire kingdom of Wirenth sprawled below them. The tips of the small houses shone brightly under the sunshine and large puddles in the street glistened in the light. It was an unusually warm day, the sun's golden rays had begun melting the frost off the windowpanes. It wasn't often that they had sunshine like today, throughout the year the ground was covered in a perpetual layer of snow. With a chill that seeped into your bones and no amount of warm clothes could get rid of it.

Each year the kingdom of Wirenth hosted the Ice Festival, where everyone would gather and share a feast until the late hours of the evening. The festival was thrown each year in celebration of the King. Elora had heard stories that King Ylyndar has never attended the festival, not even once. With no set religion in the Northern Realm, the people of Wirenth looked to the reclusive king for guidance. Very few had laid eyes on King Ylyndar, the man was so mystified he had become a god.

The first Sunday of each season was spent standing in line to offer up the first reaping of the harvest, a declaration of faith and obedience to King Ylyndar. Of course, she had never been, she's never even left the prison grounds. Sometimes Virion would tell her about the occasions he had attended the festival, she would listen intently to his tales of laughter and dancing that the villagers took part in. When she had asked him if the King had ever visited the prison, he had told her that a visit from the King was something to be feared and the only person who he knew had seen him was the strange doctor who sometimes visited the prison to check her vitals.

"Please, I promise I'll be on my best behaviour for the rest of the week!" She pleaded, grabbing his hands and shaking them. Virion groaned loudly and snatched his hands away from her.

 "Fine." Elora grinned and clapped her hands in excitement. "Let me go grab my things."

As fast as she could, Elora filled a small canvas bag with her drawing papers, a few pencils, and a book she had read about four times already. With a big smile, she slipped on her woollen coat the doctor had given her and followed Virion down the stairs and into the gardens.

As she entered into the courtyard a few scruffy inmates commented amongst themselves and sent hateful glances their way, one of the men muttered something in the ancient language of Wirenth but she could only make out a few of the words. Even though she had grown up in Wirenth her whole life, she had never been taught the ancient language or basic phrases, perhaps it was to make her feel even more like an outsider than she already was.

Virion would sometimes teach her words when he was in a good mood, and she was grateful for that. She tried as best as she could to learn from the books in the library, but it was difficult to learn the language on her own. Elora knew he had two daughters and a wife at home who would occasionally donate Elora the girl's old clothes and books as they outgrew them.

The air outside still had its usual bitter cold to it, yet the bright sunshine thawed the cold ground. Carefully she stepped over the muddy ground and balanced on the small steppingstones which led to the bottom of the garden.

There were a handful of other inmates wandering around the grounds, kicking a small ball amongst themselves. Elora kept her head down as she bounced past them to the old oak tree that sat at the bottom of the hill. The tree had lost most of its leaves and looked old and misshapen, it reminded her of an old man leaning over on his stick. Scattered below the tree were large rocks covered in dark moss, it was here she would sit and draw or read. Virion stopped a few feet behind her to speak to one of the other guards, leaving her to sit by herself.

Her mind had begun to wonder as her pencil glided across the paper. Her fingers were light and quick, capturing the curves and movement of the tall fir trees lining the garden. The jagged lines of the mountain range in the distance began to take form on her paper. The kingdom below looked dwarfed by the large mountain range looming around them from all sides forming a barrier of rocks. The peaks of the mountains which were usually covered by clouds were visible, standing tall and proud in the clear sky. If you looked hard enough at the eastern peaks you could make out the cobbled road that wound down the mountainside into the town.

A few tiny houses were dotted along the slopes of the mountains, most mornings Elora could spot the smoke floating from their fireplaces. She often wondered who lived in the small buildings, what they were doing that day, did they have any children of their own.

She liked to imagine herself living with a family in one of those quaint cottages. She could see herself waking early in the morning to sell freshly baked bread at the marketplace, greeting her neighbours as she walked down the bustling city streets. It was the kind of perfect life she had read about in her books. There were so many things she had thought about, so many places she wished to see. So close yet out of reach. She would give anything to just visit the local market or to at least walk out of the prison, if only for an hour.

There were no walls surrounding the front entrance of the prison, the only thing stopping prisoners, besides the guards, from escaping was the jagged rockface that dropped into the frigid waters of the river below, it was impossible to survive a fall like that. Many had tried and all ended up with bloody, mangled bodies. The large wooden draw bridge, connecting the prison to the kingdom, was only lowered once a day to let the wardens in and the prisoners whose time was up out.

Elora was pulled from her thoughts by a gust of wind that blew her papers out of her hands and across the grass. Jumping to her feet, she ignored her scattered chalk and books and bounded after the escaping papers. The wind carried the papers to the far corner of the garden where they landed in the soft dirt, crumpled and filthy from their short trip.

Grumbling to herself, Elora bent over to pick up the offending pieces of paper when a glint in the soil caught her eye. Looking over her shoulder to make sure Virion was still talking to the guard, she dropped to her knees and reached for the glinting object. Her fingers brushed away the dirt and revealed a partially buried piece of metal, using her fingernails she tore the soil away to reveal a bronze coin. The coin sat perfectly in the palm of her hand, the bronze peeking out from under the dirt. Squinting she brought the coin close to her face as she attempted to read the symbols etched around the edge of the coin.

Cold, hard fingers squeezed her shoulder and suddenly she was ripped off the ground and pulled into a hard chest. Foul breath fanned her face as the old man leaned in, a wobbling smirk rested on his face.

'What you got there girly?' His eyes landed on her dirty hand which had the coin wrapped tightly in her palm. She pulled her head as far back as she could, distancing herself from the retched breath of the old prisoner. Swinging her hands behind her back she glared at him. How dare he grab her like that! With his free hand, he lunged at the coin nestled in her palm, almost knocking her off her feet.

Letting out an alarmed shout she lifted her knee up to the old man's groin, ready to strike. However, before she could make contact, they were pulled off each other. Virion stood in front of her with the old man's shirt collar bunched around his fingers, while two other guards stood ready behind him.

'What is the meaning of this?' He shouted at them. The old man gruffly answered and pointed his crooked fingers at her. "She's hiding money! In her hands...look!" While all eyes were focused on the ranting man, she subtly dropped the coin onto the ground and buried it under her foot, folding her arms behind her back all while glaring at the old man.

Virion had let go of the man and sent him tumbling into the arms of the other two guards. She could feel the annoyance radiate off Virion as he turned to face her, sighing she lifted her open hands up in innocence while he searched her pockets. Upon finding nothing he straightened to look back at the old man. "Take him to the basement." Upon hearing this, the old man thrashed about and kicked his legs out in protest, shouting as they dragged him away.

The basement was where they kept prisoners in isolation, there were no windows or beds. The cell had no walls around it just metal bars, like a cage for humans to sit and suffer in. She had only been there once when she was twelve and she still got shivers thinking about being in there. It wasn't really her fault either, she had been reading in the library alone that afternoon when two inmates approached her under the pretence of looking for the bookkeeper. Before she could answer a guard had burst through the doors startling the two men and they rushed away. What she hadn't noticed was the small leather pouch, filled with smuggled items, the smaller man had left on the table beside her pile of books.

The guard had received a tip-off about a trade that was happening in the library, which led him to her sitting with the evidence pointing right at her. Ignoring her cries of innocence, he had hauled her downstairs into the basement where she was thrown into one of the cells. She had spent one long evening without dinner in that dark cell before being woken up shivering to Virion's angry shouts as he stormed into her cell, demanding to speak to the guard who put her in there. It hadn't taken long for him to get the guard to open the cell and take her back to her room. Ever since then Virion never took his eyes off her, she was under constant watch.

Like now, he stood watching her and she stood unmoving watching him, waiting for him to leave so she could pick up the coin. He eyed her suspiciously one last time before he shook his head and walked away. With his back facing her she quickly bent down to grab the coin, glanced at it for a moment before she pocketed the troublesome coin. The icy wind tugged at her hair drawing her attention to the dark clouds approaching over the mountaintops.

A storm was brewing...