In Truald, a village just outside of the kingdom of Trace, there was a lone Inn that served as a tavern during the night. Mercenaries served as the guard in the town, but at night they all came to the tavern to drink enough ale to get the entire town drunk. The innkeeper shook his head at the drunkards, wondering who was standing guard at the gate. He turned his focus to a customer that was sitting at the bar and asked the man if he needed another round. Suddenly there was a loud crash, making the innkeeper jump, and the man at the bar turned toward the sound. Three tall, but slim, men stood in the door. The gear they wore shone, and looked like it cost more than the tavern in which they stood.

The men made their way to an empty table in the corner, where no one else was seated nearby. The man in the lead wore black leather armor that glowed brightly. His helmet had a mask which covered most of his face, except for a few breathing holes and the some for his eyes. The other two walked shoulder to shoulder behind him. They wore gleaming full plated armor that shimmered silver. All three had long white hair that fell outside of their helmets onto their shoulders. The entire tavern was completely silent as the group sat, and everyone’s eyes were upon them. Finally, after what felt like a half a mark had passed, the room went back to its normal setting.

The three sat in silence like statues as if waiting for something. The only time one of them spoke was in a low whisper to each other, or to their waitress who had gotten them drinks and food. The innkeeper had begun to get nervous, thinking they were Kingsman, here to enact some form of punishment upon him. His worry was short lived though, as he heard the door creak open again. This time, standing in the archway, was a man in a black cloak that covered his being. You could see nothing of the person, whether it was a male or female, or even any of the features of its face. It appeared to be a wraith as it was, and as it walked the innkeeper heard no sound of boots hitting the floor. The new stranger made his way back to the group that had walked in earlier, and took a seat across from the apparent leader in black armor.

With a flick of the strangers wrist a dome was placed around the table, keeping anyone other than the four present to hear them. The waitress attempted to walk over to the man, but the moment she was but a few feet away from the table she appeared to hit a wall. The innkeeper began to sweat, becoming more and more worried that he was going to have some sort of trouble from the group. He informed the waitress not to worry about approaching that table anymore, and sent her elsewhere, in hopes to avoid conflict.

The stranger said, “Have you taken care of the preparations? I would hate to have gone to all this effort and have your group not be ready for him.”

The two in silver armor looked towards the man in the middle, the one in black leather, and the man said in kind, “We have it covered. Just as intended we purchased land and built a fortress to keep him in. Don’t worry about it.”

The cloaked figure snorted at the man and said, “Last time I heard you tell me not to worry we ended up surrounded by Orc in the mountains.”

The men at the table smirked at that, and the man in the black armor then responded, “Give me a break! It’s been two decades since that mission, and you still haven’t let it go! The damn things came out of nowhere.”

The cloaked figure became serious once again, sitting up straighter, and handed the men across the table a bundle. The package moved slightly as it crossed the chasm of space between the men. Tiny arms could briefly be spotted coming out of the top of the cloth, before the other men reached across and hid the small child once again in their cloaks. The group nodded to each other, and separated immediately after, never to be seen in the village of Truald again.

************************************************************

One day earlier:

A small boy with white hair that fell to his shoulders sat at the foot of his bed in the early morning. As he was playing there was a light knocking upon his door, and he waved his hand toward it. The wind flowed in the direction of the door after he did so, and opened it for the visitor. His sister stood in the doorway with a bewildered face.

“Wyrran! You could have just said enter or come in! You know that you aren’t supposed to use magic for every little thing!” She smiled mischievously and shouted, “Mom! Wyrran is using magic to be lazy!”

Wyrran’s face immediately paled, and he sat up straighter on his bed the second he heard the next shout, “Wyrran Liacyne! What have I been teaching you?”

Wyrran’s face turned red from embarrassment as his mother came into view in the doorway, and he looked down toward the floor when he mumbled, “‘Magic is a luxury. It should not be used for menial tasks such as chores or opening doors…’”

Wyrran’s mother looked at him sternly, before smirking at Wynter and heading back to what she was doing before. After she left, Wyrran immediately reached back and grabbed a pillow, and once she turned around she was immediately assaulted by a pillow to the face. She immediately gasped, and threw the pillow right back at her little brother. Wyrran turned 82 within the last few months, while Wynnter turned 165. In terms of human age they appeared to be 8 and 16 respectively.

After she threw the pillow back at Wyrran she jumped onto the bed and landed on top of him. He squirmed fiercely in an attempt to escape from underneath his heavy sister.

“Ger’ ‘ff me!” She heard from below her.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” She shouted louder than necessary, “I am afraid I couldn’t understand that!”

“I said get off me you fatty!”, Wyrran yelled from below her, his smile apparent in his tone.

After another exaggerated gasp Wynter began tickling Wyrran’s sides, until he finally conceded in an attempt to get her to allow him to breath again. She released him, and Wyrran took advantage of the escape. The second she let go he was at the other end of the bed, and sprawled out to steady his breathing.

Wynter giggled as she looked at her little brother and said, “You really need to start taking your training seriously. If you are out of breath from just that you’ll never be strong enough to protect your future wife!”

“But why do I even need it? Mom and Dad both said I have exceptional magical talent. What is even the point in learning to use the sword?” He retorted sourly.

Wynter smiled kindly at her petulant little brother and said, “Oh Wyn. I know that you’re aware having better control over your breathing, and having a stronger body, will make longer stints of magic use possible. If you get breathless when you are casting a spell what are you going to do then? You’re just being the lazy little brat you always are.”

“But-”, Wyrran started and was interrupted.

“Wynter, can you come out here please? I need some help.”, their mother called from inside of what they presumed would be the kitchen.

Wynter rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother was once again going to force her to learn something that pertains to cooking.

“If I have to learn how to cook in order to be the perfect wife, I think you can suffer through sword practice.” , Wynter teased some more before she left the room.

Wyrran sat in his room silently for a bit after his sister left. He knew that his sister actually enjoyed cooking. She just didn’t like the fact that their mother only wants her to learn for her future husband, rather than how it relaxed her. Wyrran however never had any kind of delusion to make him enjoy swordplay. He didn’t enjoy the sport, nor the idea of cutting someone apart.

He turned around to go back to playing with his little figurines, but instead what faced him was a tall man covered in a black cloak with a mask over his face.

Wyrran opened his mouth to shout out, but the man was upon him quickly and hissed, “Keep your mouth shut, or this will get a lot more painful.”

The voice seemed vaguely familiar to Wyrran, and he was going to shout out to his parents anyway, but before he could do so he felt something hit the back of his head hard. The next thing he knew, all he could see was black.

************************************************************

Twenty minutes later…

“Go let your brother know that breakfast is ready.”, Aravae, Wynter and Wyrran’s mother, said with a smile to her daughter.

Wynter, after being dismissed, left and went back to Wyrran’s room to collect him. His room was only a minute walk away from the kitchen, and she made it there quickly. As she entered, she knew that something was wrong. First, the window was opened and Wyrran generally liked to remain inside and read without any hindrance. Wind constantly blew his pages around, and he complained about it incessantly.

Wynter looked everywhere in the room, but her brother was nowhere to be found. She went into the bathroom that was attached, and tore everything out of his closet. After finally confirming he wasn’t in the here, Wynter left to talk to the guard posted down the hall.

Wynter stopped in front of him and asked, “Did you see Wyrran come this way any time recently guardsman?”

The guard straightened after being addressed by who the guards referenced as the “Ice Queen” to anyone except for Wyrran said, “No Ma’am. I’ve been here all morning and I have not seen him step outside of his room. Is something wrong?”

Wynter’s frown worsened, and her brow furrowed when she said, “Get a group of six of you and search the grounds for him immediately. I already searched his room, but did not find him in there.”

The guard did not waste any time arguing with her and set out to gather more guards. They scoured the entire grounds for two hours before the guards finally returned to Wynter and informed her that they could not find him. By then, she had already went into the dining room and let her parents both know that she had sent a few guards to look for Wyrran. He had done this before, disappearing and hiding on the grounds some where, so they anticipated the guards returning with Wyrran struggling in their grasp. However, when they noticed the guards came back with nothing in hand the families expressions turned grim. Wyrran was gone, and even after using various different spells in an attempt to find him they returned with nothing.

Wynter turned to her father, “Let me go look for him! I’ll take a few guards and I am sure I’ll be able to find him in a couple hours at the most.”

After her father nodded Wynter left immediately. They searched the grounds for hours, but still they couldn’t find anything. Her little brother was gone.