1 Prologue

I remember the day when we lost half the Diltrins to the Aazens. We had been planning an attack on them for lengthy prolonged weeks, and to finally overthrow them, would have been our greatest victory yet. Our plan was thought to be flawless. We should have been able to attack them using the crucial element of surprise, and they should've been reduced to nothing. But when our people attacked, it was a brutal massacre, for us. I remember being about seven, watching the fight from a supposedly safe distance away. Next to me, my twin sister Slavia gripped my hand, and my fourteen-year-old, older brother Cato just stood there, gaping as we all watched, gasping in horror. My twin and I held each other close as we watched those who we loved, be brutally murdered. My brother should've been fighting, and even dying with them and our parents if he had to, seeing as when you are thirteen in the Diltrin clan, you are deemed old enough to bear the terrible, however necessary, burden of loss of life. But instead, it was his job to protect us. You see, the most important thing above everything else in this clan, in any clan, in the whole of Urralar, is children. Children are the only ones who can pass down ancient sacred traditions or key knowledge to future generations. And, without them, there will be no future generations. As I watched, I felt all the more hopeless. Wet tears stained my pale cheeks as the not far enough away shrill screaming pierced my ears. I felt my sister's hold on my hand strain as she held me tighter. My twin and I weren't old enough to truly understand what was happening in full, but we knew more than we would want to, unlike our brother. Due to the fact that our clan had spent the past years raising us, they hadn't made any aggressive attacks toward the other clans as a result, making this the first time he had ever seen an onslaught quite, like, this. As the battle raged on, it was becoming clearer and clearer that we were as far from winning than in any other battle. I turned to my brother, despite his age he was crying the most out of us all. He determinedly screwed up his face, as if he had just made a painful decision. "Sage, Slavia," he said carefully as he turned his tear-stained face to me specifically, "I want to make sure that you know how much mother, father and I love you," I looked into Cato's bloodshot yet green eyes, just like mine, hence why my mother called me Sage, we were the only ones in the family with the same identical jade green eyes. "Just because," Cato continues "Sometimes people leave you, but that doesn't mean that they have ever or will ever stop loving you. Do you understand?" Cato asks pleadingly, "Yes" Slavia and I reply in unison in choked voices. I reach out my hand to Cato's, we hold each other for a precious second, I feel Cato's eyes studying my features, I look into his eyes and see an immense amount of regret and sadness behind them. Even for how young I was I could see how it was destroying him, from within. My fingers grasped his hand tighter as he began to let go. I tried to hold on but with more force, Cato pulled himself away. The spilling water from his eyes abruptly stopping and suddenly getting up, he ran toward the fight where a war cry was being hollered. "CATO!" I screamed from utter desperation, but he never came back.