The Story Has Begun

My mother once told me about the time when our people had our freedom. Our tales flowed like wine from a cornucopia, shared from all across the kingdom of Zeraphina. She said our duty to the kingdom was to record history exactly how we see it. That we were the keepers of Zeraphina's tale, both the good and the bad. This placed us in a very precarious position with its leaders, but our chief reminded them of the pact we signed with their first king, Theodore. For the kingdom's sake, we must record the truth. For centuries, we performed this duty. But one day, the current ruler of Zeraphina decided history must bend to his will. And that we, the villagers of Ygritte, will write only of his glorious rule. Not the corruption rotting within the nobility. Not the poor suffering underneath their heel. Not the king exhausting every resource to fill his thirst for power. Not the wars he waged to prove his strength. To this, we refused. And so he sent his armies to subdue us. One by one, many of our Storyweavers perished by the soldiers' hands. Men, women, children, the elderly. No one was safe. 

Those who fought back were killed. Those who surrendered were brought to the capital in chains. Me? I was the only one left in Ygritte who remained free. During the chaos, Mother and I escaped through the mountains that bordered our village to the east. Before we parted ways, she grabbed me by the shoulders.

"You must never write again, Tarina," she warned me. "Promise me you will give up writing stories." My heart protested vehemently, but my brain saw the logic. Writing stories became the noose that wrapped around our necks. If we were going to survive this, we must live in hiding.
"I promise." Even if these words tasted bitter in my mouth, I had to say it. It's for my own survival. But it was like a knife being twisted inside my chest. I hugged my mother tight. 
"I love you, Mum," I whispered. My mother's gaze softened as she embraced me for one last time.
"Go. Wavecrest Harbor is just beyond these mountains." She touched my face. "Find Teagan. She will help you." I nodded. When she let me go, I trudged down the mountain path leading to the harbor. That was the last time I saw her. I was only a girl of fifteen. And now, I must find my way in this world, stripped of my identity as a Storyweaver. And so I vowed that the tyrant who robbed me of my identity will pay for what he had done to my village. But how? That, I do not know.