I am Pellagra, daughter of Tyrone - the king of Greece. I am now old as I look back on my life. My clearest memory was one afternoon when the priest came to visit my father. I was young at the time, 14, the youngest of three daughters. My oldest sister was Yolanda, I called her Maya, and the next was Rhea. This particular day, the priest, from the temple of the nameless goddess, was here with news for my father. This had been a barren year for us. Not only were there no sons in the kind's house to succeed him, but there was also a shortage on water causing our cattle and crops to die out. "What does she require now?" my father asked the priest impatiently, his voice deep and angered, "Have I not yet sacrificed enough cows?" "No," the priest answered slowly, "She is no longer pleased with just animals; she is seeking one in this land, alive, though, not dead." At this my mind began to spin. Who could she want? How would they be sacrificed? Would nothing else please her? "We have drawn lots the determine who must go," the priest continued, "it is not yourself king; though, it is your youngest daughter, Pellagra." The kind instantly had his guards upon me, and the next thing I new, they were dragging me away. I was to be locked in the tower until the day of the sacrifice. The priest went on to tell the king that in order to properly make the sacrifice, I was to be tied to the holy tree on the Grey Mountain (eight hours walking distance from our city) for Her. The priest knew she would not kill me' though, he was unsure about what she would do to me. I knew I had four days until the sacrifice and nothing much happened until the night of the third day. A group of maids came into my room. At first they fed me a sticky, sweet liquid which I now assume was a drug because of the effect it had on me. Almost instantly I became light-headed. My arms felt like lead, and I was powerless to resist anything they might do to me. Next they painted my face. By the time they were done, they had used so many layers of paint that I was unable to move or speak, and I could hardly blink. After a night of no sleep and a lot more preparations, we began our journey. Though they carried me all the way up there, sleep was impossible. After we reached the tree, I was chained up and left there. Before they left, the king pulled out his hair and beat his breast, as the custom was, pretending to be sorry, but I could tell it was an act and couldn't wait for them to leave. After several hours of silence, the goddess came and released me from the chained prison. She took me to a place called Fornost; though, I scarcely remember the trip because of the drugs they had fed me. As soon as my feet hit the ground, though, my drowsiness left me and I could tell that I no longer had a painted face. Upon arriving, she informed me that I would no longer be called Pellagra but Alephel, meaning 'swan of the outside'. Because I had no mirror, I began to inspect myself, particularly, my face to make sure she had not turned me into a beast. She had not; though, my hair was shorter and curly and my ears were pointy. I also noticed that my feet were unusually hair. Gathering my whit, I had no idea where I was, I began a journey on the nearest road felling a need to stretch my legs. Little did I know of the adventure that lay ahead of me as I began my trip to Bree.