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Even as the Wind spoke its will a desert away, men in green robes adorned with red and gold dragons crossed into the southern forested valley of Ithan, to the tradesmen village of Mado. They were wreaking havoc and chaos as they went. Houses and trade schools now burned in flames and people lay dead. The green men little cared as they took their black mounts and disappeared into the lush Ithan forest with their intent being known only to them. By the time news would reach the Ithan king, Venes, the green men would already be in place at the capital and little did anyone suspect that the downfall of Ithan was upon the threshold of their very doors.

            A very small and bitter man, with black hair and angry hazel eyes, watched the blood flow out of him. He had been cut down in the streets like a common mutt. All the years of service and allegiance he had given to the nation bearing the dragons, had meant nothing in the end. The dark red life force oozed from his wound. He could still see the cold and hate in her hazel eyes when the captain of the green men had asked her what to do with him. They knew who he was. His name was well known among them as one of their many spies. He had turned to her, his only daughter. She looked so much like her mother that it made him angry. No one should have the same precious face that had been his own to caress and love. No one. He had sent her away to learn the art of death. He had sent her to her doom to the island of Baln to learn the secret arts of the Assassins.  At the time he hadn’t cared if she had lived or died but as she grew and learned the arts well, he hoped to one day see her, his sword, carry out his plan of vengeance on Ithan. He wanted to be there to see the downfall of all that had betrayed him. Instead, now he lay bleeding like a slaughtered cow among the dirt and filth of the road that lead to the great temple of the Maker that was buried on the other side of Mado among the giant trees. He was told to wait there if he didn’t want to be killed when the green men attacked. Fate had played a cruel trick on him though. The despised instrument he had created for vengeance had instead turned to him and ordered his execution. Her face never flinching as he sneered at her. He had hissed that at least in this one thing she had done well. She had learned death. Then with his dying breath he begged her to burn Ithan to the ground and make herself the instrument she was born to be. Her face never moving from its frozen and stiff expression simply said, “I will do what King Gragon needs me to do. No more and no less.” Then, his only daughter, his instrument of vengeance, Maze, had rode off without a glance back.

            He gurgled on his own blood as a chuckle tried to come out. At least his pathetic daughter had come to some use. At least now his vengeance and hatred would live on. It would live through her and the death she would bring. He gurgled one last time as the flames from Mado begin to overtake the Maker’s temple and cast dancing reflections in the blood that ran through its streets.

            Death was coming to Ithan and the Wind moaned sorrowfully. The trees groaned as they fell under the licking flames the green men had set. The earth trembled ever so slightly and the sky begin to cry great fat tears of rain that the Wind had called forth. The animals scattered and hid. Most had already left. The Wind, long ago, had foretold of this and most of the animals of Ithan had slowly begin fleeing. Some to the neighboring land of Asand and some even farther away, finding ways to cross the Great Sea. The time of death was upon the land and now was the time that Legends were to be born. By fire, by water, by death, and by darkness they would be changed into the heroes the Wind had destined them to be.

            “Now is their time,” the Wind whispered. The earth rumbled deeply in reply and the Forest groaned. The great sun filtered through the sadness of the sky as it agreed with the earth and the Forest. They said as one in reply to the Wind, “Then let them come.”

            A hush settled over the land. The fires were put out and the cries of the dying in Mado had ceased. The dying were now dead and there was no more life in the great trade town of Mado. The structures of men had been destroyed and the Forest was silent as it contemplated. The earth begin to rumble its hymn of healing but the Wind was gone. There was much to be done and little time to do it in. The Wind had many places to go and many people to visit. The Wind needed to find the Legends before the enemy covered Ithan in its cloak of death. The silence filled Mado like a tomb….an unknown forgotten tomb.

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