(( Mwaahahahaha. >:3 This is going to be muy interesante. Haha I knows Espanol. <3 ))
Ferran Il' Menil Trinity. Her name stood for something that could not be heard by human ears. It meant something in an ancient tongue, Sylf. The language had not been heard in centuries. Ordinary people knew very little of its significance in history. Historians and philosophers understood that this language was important. But as for what, nobody could even guess.
She was ten years old. Almost eleven. She observed her reflection in the glass window she was gazing out of. She had bright, bloodred eyes; long, hot pink hair, and wore glasses that were almost too big for her young and immature face. Outside of the safety of this dark room of hers, a battle was being fought. Ferran was too young to understand what was going on, or why.
The servants had told her to stay put. Though she never liked to listen to them, she always did. She pressed her ear against the large wooden door, the entrance to her room.
"The bloody Lycans are outnumbering us!" she heard one voice say.
"I... I think this may be the end of Amour Il' Menil, Jarett," another voice spoke.
"Don't talk like that, Aern!" the one called Jarett snapped. "We may be outnumbered, but we still have a chance. Besides-" He paused. "-we need to protect little Ferran at all costs. Make sure she gets back to Onyx okay when she comes of age."
Ferran pulled away from the door. Dozens of questions ran through her mind: What in Goddess name were Lycans? What was Amour Il' Menil? Why did she need protection? What was Onyx and why did she need to go there?
Confusion was too much for her to work on. Ferran shook her head, her pink hair billowing around her like a silk curtain dancing in the wind. She walked back over to the window and gazed down at the battle below: blood was flying everywhere, she could hear the clang of metal against metal, she saw people killing one another for as far as her half-elven eyes could allow. A few small droplets of blood spattered her window. Ferran stared at it; she couldn't take her eyes away. There was a knock at her door, and it took almost all of her energy to wrench her eyes away from the meal in front of her.
Ferran walked over to her door and slid open a spot in the door, at about eye level.
"...What is it?" Ferran asked softly.
The servant opened the door. Ferran turned away. "What do you want?"
"M'lady Ferran, there's been a breach of this keep," the servant explained, speaking rather fast. "We need to get you to a safe haven. You're in grave danger should their infiltration succeed. Please, m'lady. Pack your belongings; quickly now. I'll be back in a few minutes. Godspeed, M'lady." He bowed, nodded, then turned on his heel and left Ferran alone in her bedroom.
