Hand of Sorrow

 

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Prologue

I was only five years old when he first came into my life. My father's trusted knight had carried the unconscious boy into our carriage, cradling him like one would hold an infant. At once, he and my father attempted to shield him from my sight, but my curiosity rendered their attempts futile. I wanted to know too badly for them to keep me from seeing. 

Beneath a mess of rich brown hair I caught a glimpse of a boy who appeared to be no older than I, and to my grave discovery, I saw that he was sporting a serious head wound. My father's knight was tending to him as best he was able, but the hand that he held pressed so firmly against the boy's head was quickly staining red. I remember clearly the thought that crossed my mind in that moment. I feared the boy might die.

I can only write this now with the knowledge that he survived that night. I don't know where he is now, or what has become of him. It has been years since I heard word of his whereabouts. Years since that soft farewell he delivered to me while I slumbered. Even now I sometimes wonder if it was a dream. My only hope is that he is still safe, wherever he may be. The years may wear on, but my hope will never waver. I know that one day, if he is able, he will return to me.

My name is Aileena, first princess of the Kingdom of Alagard. The tale I am about to describe for you is not mine, but that of the brave men whose company I was honored to grow up with. I want to tell you about the allies they gathered, and the battles they fought. I want to tell you about the peace they have been fighting for. The peace that they are surely fighting for, even now, to restore this land to the state it once knew. I can only pray that those days have not been forgotten.

 

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