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[Soren]

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The mists swirled again around the dark haired green-eyed girl. She was running, her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough. The smell of flowers heavily perfumed her mind and paint was speckled across her nose. The young girl could feel it, something was wrong.

The mists swirled again revealing a house, simple, clean cozy, for a family of four. Many a nights they had spent listening to their fathers stories, marveling at the golden throated songs of their mother. A happy family…

Blood lay all around it washed in rivers and seas over Mrielle and she screamed out their names with frantic cries of woe. Mama! Papa! There they lay, killed from behind not a moments notice to defend themselves.

Yet there was no Soren. She called her name, and frantically searched but her little sister was gone. No where to be found. For years she worked and toiled at the Conservatory in Britain earning her keep, in exchange for her lessons and board. Her life forever changed with darkness.

Searching, longing for her last tie to her parents, she scoured the lands until one day she heard whispers of a blacksmith of reknown, somewhere in Malas. The name was Soren..Her heart skipped a beat.

Tears flowed, as chance would throw them together in the busy marketplace as the mists swirled to reveal the happy face of her young sister. The gypsy, Soren, engaged….happy.

What was she to do now, a life of searching? A life of longing now fulfilled. Where was she to go who was she to become. Soft sobs shook her in her sleep. She weeped with joy for her sister, she weeped with sadness for her parents, yet she would not weep for herself.

It was time to live again. The soft music of a harp could be heard floating gently on the wind as the evening shadows deepened.