Prologue

Fog curled around the paws of the troop, chilled to the bone by the bitter cold air as they made their way through a whispering Aspen grove. Golden grass and frosty twigs snapped and tangled with their every step, catching on long cloaks and bandaged feet. The sky above was grey and stormy, occasional drops of water landing onto the faces and ears of the small party or beating upon the yellow canopy. Apart from the steady sound of a hidden stream and taps of rain, the forest was silent, the only sound rising above water gurgling being the breathing of the troop.

They continued on in silence until reaching a calm lake. As water lapped at the rocky shore, the leader of the group knelt down by the water. He took the sash off of his shoulders and set the sash into the cold water. The baby inside began crying as the dark red fabric spread around it into the water like tentacles, keeping the baby above the surface.

The group watched on in silence as their leader stood up and gazed upon the child as it drifted out into the lake, its cries echoing across the lake, pushing the fog away from the water and into the shadows of the Aspen trees growing along the shore.

In the center of the lake, the ruins of a large castle were revealed, sitting on the center most island and glaring down upon the grove. The baby  continued to float closer, like the castle was holding a magnet to it.

Once the baby bumped into the shore of the island, the cries stopped and fog rolled back in, thick and fast, cloaking the castle in mist once more. 

"May all of Mythrandel be with you," the leader of the group mumbled in a deep voice, stooping down to pick up the sash once it had returned without the child, careful to keep as much lake water in the fabric as possible.

One of the other troop members knelt down beside the leader and held out a jar for the sash to be placed into. The leader began to seal up the jar again until he and his helper gasped.

The jar dropped to the shore, smashing upon the rocks, and the two howled in pain, holding up their hands which burned and smoked where they had been holding the jar. The two figures dropped to the ground, limp, their troop not sticking around to hear the bodies hit the gravel they knelt upon.

Instead, the troop dove into the water, cheering and whooping as they splashed their way to the island through the fog. Laughter rang through the ancient halls as they ran into the ruins of the castle, jumping through windows and over broken  tables to get to the courtyard. In the center of the courtyard lay an above ground grave, its lid slid off center. On top of the lid sat the child, tears streaming down its face and no longer shivering in the cold.

"Thank Norvia!" One of the cloaked figures yelled, a chorus of the same erupting from his friends as they lifted the child onto their shoulders, their joy the only sound for leagues.