Life isn't easy. Wrapped around a worn out bloody cloth is a baby. Lying on a broken wood log just big enough to hold her. She is an infant no more than a few days old.. Alone, cold, hurting, and hungry. All she can do is cry, or die. Left on a foggy twilight, not a creature has been seen. Her cries are about to break, her spirit dim. Finally, heavy footsteps approach her. A frightening, abnormal figure stops. He looks down at her. She looks up at him and stops crying. She is still, motionless. He leans down his huge abnormal hand then lifts the wooden log and her in one swoop. In the back of the log, there is a carving, and it reads, "Cealia; magic runs deep." As they both remain eye contact the abnormal figure turns around with the child, and disappears in the twilight darkness.