It started with a lie.  A simple, beautifully meant, white lie intended to protect those it was spoken on behalf of… and like so many lies before and after, it grew to such monstrous proportions that revealing the simplicity of its deceit no longer was a viable option. It would have crushed those whose trust had been held within its delicate weavings, and so it was allowed to continue, flourish, be believed as truth until such time that no one lived to remember the lie in the first place. 

Then it became the thing of legends; a myth mentioned within trader’s outposts and precarious travelers inns, mused about over dinner in the homes of those who dreamed of something more than their farm, and eventually whispered about in the cavernous great halls of nobility. Filling the minds of adventurers young and old with ideas and desires like all unknown treasures did, while being shoved off into the corners of their minds as one of those ‘to do’ type excursions. Something to aspire to, something that few ever actually went in search of, and those who did never returned to tell about.

Through every tale that was uttered, through every fabrication that held both the lie and the truth within it… it continued to exist far beyond the short sighted mind of the original utterance that had given birth to the kernel of sand that the pearl of fiction had been built around. For surely, if he had known what that simple untruth would have ended up as… would he have said it in the first place?

Perhaps. Because this lie had been spoken in the name of love, to protect that which he held most precious in his life. When given such a choice few ever do differently, and if they were to be given a second chance… they often repeat the lie anyways.  Only if he had known how it would affect the lives of those who came directly after... or that of one young girl... perhaps... just perhaps... he wouldn't have lied.
That was something that would never be known though, as his very name had been lost to the sands of time long ago, and that of the one he lied for, as well as those who had carried it out. Even the girl was forgotten, her very name not even part of her own memory.

And the city that grew from this lie, that flourished only to fall mysteriously into obscurity and the thing of legends; This city was the treasure that parents told their children about, that adventurers dreamed of finding, and that... in the most unlikely of manners, was tied to a young elven girl with eyes the color of flawless sapphires; a girl whose world was leagues away from the source of that lie... and whose dreams were that of any sword born maiden of the nomadic tribes of Sidi.

Mica stood watching the older children, her sapphire eyes a stark contrast against the deep warm tan of her features, and the blue-black sheen of her long tangled hair. Sandy dust powdered her skin, smudged across her cheeks, and rose in soft clouds about her when the wind picked up to tug playfully at her simple garb.  In her hands she clutched two sticks of varying lengths, although at the moment they were all but forgotten as she watched the older children practice. One in particular to be exact, and although she could see from the corner of her eye another girl also watching him, she knew in the way some kids just do, that her future was somehow tied to him. 

 Picking up her sticks to hold them in a sort of childish mimicry of en guard, she pretended to parry with invisible foes. Evil wind demons swirled and darted around her in her mind’s eye, causing the petite waif to thrust and parry, jab and faint with her dual wielding style that seemed so natural to her. Perhaps in other races of elven kind a girl her age would have carried around a more feminine toy… a human a doll… but not the Sidi. They were practically weapon borne, the need to fight said to have been ingrained into every fiber of their being since the Sun God had created them from his own fire, sand and wind.  A legend that was very true in the petite elven maiden as she sliced and dodged her imaginary foes with a few pauses to stop and watch the older children going through their drills. Soon… soon she too would be amidst their ranks, learning the varies fighting styles of the nomadic Sidi, and perhaps even being paired up to her perfect fighting partner. 

Although the child pretty much already knew who he would be… after all the water goddess had told her in a dream… sort of. Arytiss Falathiel… only ten years her elder, and one of the best fighters of his age in this tribe with his chosen weapon, the hand and a half bastard sword which might be considered odd for an elf… if they were any other kind of elves. But the Sidi were not only warriors, but nomads who traveled farther than even the blazing sands of their homeland when at all possible. Generation after generation had made their Exodus upon their hundredth birthdays. Traveling beyond the shores of Kaden to learn of their world and all it held, and to bring back to the tribes their knowledge when and if they could return. Amidst these things they brought the fighting styles of others, to be learned and melded with that of their own, and perfected upon.  Someday it would be her turn also, and she would travel far and wide, learning everything she could in order to bring it back to her tribe and make them proud of her.  Perhaps she’d even find the Water Goddess… 

Looking over to watch the other children practice again, she saw Arytiss looking away from the others, but not at Mica as a quiet little part of her hoped… but to another elven maiden about his own age that also watched him. This caused Mica to pause in her slayings of vile demons, and take note of the other girl with the scrutinizing eye of a five year old. She had seen the girl before standing and watching the practice sessions, even knew her name and parents as all the children in this tribe did… but she had never seen him return her attention with an echo of the same expression. At her age Mica had no idea what precisely it was, but she knew enough to gather that they liked each other. A fact that caused the petite elven child to scrunch up her face in disapproval before she turned away, deciding that practice was over for her… at least right now.  

Dropping her make-shift swords, the petite elven child ran, weaving her way in between the numerous colorful Sidi tents towards the one that served as her home. By no means a massive tent, modest indeed in its construction as most Sidi tents were, but to her it was a world unto itself in which her mother and father were the centers of her universe from which all explorations into the world stemmed from. They were her anchors, and she their wayward ship, lost on an ocean of discovery that for her, would never end. Little that she knew as she lifted her small arms and pretended to glide upon the wind like a falcon as she raced into the tent’s luscious interior.  Its walls softly billowing hues of gold, red, and tan that moved with every breath of the air around them. Within its center sat her mother cross legged and diligently repairing some odd garment of either Mica’s or her father’s. Every stitch, without even Mica looking, would be tiny and perfect so as to be barely seen and yet secure enough to hold for a long time to come. Mica knew this, perhaps didn’t understand it as sewing was still rather boring to the adventurous youth, but she knew her mother wove magic with Yakka thread that was the envy of many of the other women in the tribe. Something the little elven child would often boast about if anyone forced her into a situation she felt she needed to; which actually wasn’t that often as Mica wasn’t really the type to boast.  For her adventure lay around every corner, worlds were being created and destroyed with every sunrise and sunset… so what was there to boast about?  

Running circles around her mother as she sewed, the tiny girl brought a sigh and soft chuckle to her mother’s lips before the elegant woman sat straighter and allowed her hands, and garment which she mended, to rest easily upon her lap. “You pretend to catch the Wind Mica… but remember its only borrowed to fill your wings as you sail.”  Shaking her head after that, Mica’s mother shot a glance towards the tent’s opening before she seemed to decide it was time to set aside her darning and tend to other matters. Mainly, at this point, the capture and affectionate tickling of her only daughter who peeled off squeals of laughter and delight at such attention. Squirming gleefully within her mother’s arms till she lay sprawled across her mother’s lap spent and gasping for breath while bright shining sapphire eyes that blazed with an odd glint in the afternoon light stared up at her. “Nah-ne (Mother) why are my eyes blue?”  Mica’s expression took on the sudden seriousness of any child who felt a need to the answer of a question, regardless of how far-fetched and impossible it might be to respond to. In this case her mother simply laughed and kissed her daughter’s nose. 

“Because for you I caught a bit of the ocean and put it in your eyes so you could see clearly across the world.” Smiling sweetly down upon her daughter, her own hazel gold eyes filled with the tender warmth of any loving parent, she reached up to absently brush aside the errant strands of blue-black hair that criss-crossed her daughter’s rounded soft baby face. “What other mysteries do you want to know the answers to tinu (daughter)?”

Mica blinked up at her with that innocent expression most children had when about to ask a plethora of questions that meant everything and nothing to them all at once. Though the only word that uttered from her lips was. "Why?" She'd reach up to idly take a wisp of her mothers loose hair, and twine it around her slender little fingers. "Did the Water Goddess tell you to?" Her gaze met her mothers, though she couldn't understand the odd look that suddenly appeared there, or the way her mother suddenly seemed to be holding her breath. 

"What do you mean by the water goddess tinu?" Her mother finally asked, though something about her mother's expression had Mica confused by the question. Still, she wasn't sure why, and didn't understand any of the expressions that seemed to shadow her mother's features ever so briefly, before the elven woman managed to mantle herself in dubious oblivion. "Who told you about a water goddess Mica? Where you listening in on stories again? You know you aren't supposed to be up and out of the tent that late."

"I dreamed about her Nah-ne... she said I would love the wind." Mica looked up to her mother, her little brows furrowed while waiting for her mother to tell her what that meant, though she was sure she already knew. "I'm gonna marry Arytiss Falathiel... " She stated as if there was no doubt about it, As if it had already been agreed upon by both sets of parents and therefore official within the eyes of the tribe. Why would she doubt? She had been told hadn't she? Arytiss was the wind wasn't he? She had heard many of the older children say he showed more of the wind than sand or sun.. so it had to be true. She was sure of it. 

"Mica.. my tinu... have you told anyone else of these dreams?" Her mother's voice sounded worried enough to cause the small child to forget braiding her mother's hair -as she had started to do- and look into her warm hazel eyes curiously. "No Nah-ne.. I haven't.." She'd cant her head a little, peering up at her mother's face with more interest than previously, but still lacking the ability to actually read the expressions that might have been upon her mother's now placid features. Though she was sure she heard worry in her mother's tone of voice. "Is it bad... these dreams?" Now she was worried, the idea that perhaps the Water Goddess wasn't what she seemed caused the little elven girl to fret a little. She didn't want to be in trouble, and she knew just as well as any of the children, that there were spirits out there in the desert that would lie and cheat in order to get what they wanted. Perhaps the Water Goddess was a lie?

Her mother tilted her head a little in the manner she always did when she was thinking, and as always, Mica thought that she was actually listening for something. Briefly the elven child glanced about the tent, her tiny fingers entwined in her mother's hair with a half formed braid building from them, yet paused as the girl listened for something; a voice, a sound, something that whispered to her mother and told her the things only mothers could know. But there was nothing unusual, nothing beyond the normal sounds of the tribe living and breathing just outside their tent.
  "No." Her mother abruptly broke the moment of stillness with her voice which was both tender and commanding all at once, as mother's voices could often be. "It is not bad, but... " She lifted her elegant right hand to trace her fingertips across her daughter's rounded cheek. "It is also something that wouldn't be understood by many. It is best, my little one, to keep this, these dreams of yours, a secret from everyone... including your father."
  The last word fell from her mother's lips like a stone, surprising the little elf girl so much that her bright blue eyes widened like saucers, starkly contrasting against her tanned features and raven black hair. "But.. Nah-ne..." She started, her little fingers having forgotten the partially plaited braid that now hung forgotten in her mother's equally black hair. 
  "No buts... promise me you will never speak of these dreams to anyone else again... and I do mean anyone." Taking her daughter's tiny hands in her own, she looked the girl fully in the eyes with a seriousness that simply could not be ignored by Mica. Solemnly she nodded her head in affirmation, her big blue eyes locked on the deep brown ones of her mother's while unwittingly her lower lip protruded into a determined pout. 
  "I promise Nah-ne.. I won't tell anyone ever."
   For a moment that seemed to single itself out and depart entirely from the reality that continued unabashedly around their tent, Mica and her mother stared deeply at each other in silent communion until abruptly her mother broke that spell in order to brush some of her daughter's errant hair out of the child's face. "Good, now come... let us put you to bed for we have a busy day tomorrow. Its time to move again."