I've spent all but five years of my life hiding. Conrad hates it, I hate it, but it's the only choice we have.

Although Ireland is beautiful, it doesn't compare at all to Lorien. The weather was always perfect - every possible variation of perfect was available somewhere on the planet. I lived in a pretty little village next to a lush green forest. It was so quiet, the ideal place to read.

There was no crime on Lorien, nobody hurt others - people hardly ever argued. There was no war... until that night.

I was five when the Mogadorians invaded. I'm lucky enough that I was almost too young to remember. Almost. There was screaming. Crying. Burning. And the wristband Conrad had given me a few weeks earlier was rattling crazily. My Grandmother hugged me as we waited under the kitchen table. Grandfather had gone out to fight, as had the other Garde in the village. Then Conrad came and took me to the airstrip.

Loridas said some things and touched my head, then did the same to the others and did some kind of ritual. Then we ran, as fast as we could to the ship. There were explosions all around us, Pikens being fought off by Garde, but we made it onboard. Then, we waited.

We spent a year on that ship, first hoping to return home, then heading for Earth. Us children had sat in the canteen with our Cêpans, waiting, hoping for news. Then the pilot came in and told us. There was nothing left. I didn't completely understand at the time, but I do now.

And I'm determined to develop my Legacies, reunite with the Garde, and take back Lorien.