Sunlight filtering through leaves, all gold and green and shadow. It's my first memory. I examine it often. Memories are like water. Well, maybe not, but it sounds pretty, so that's good enough for me. I'll dip into it sometimes, hardly getting wet. Not so much remembering it as making sure it's still there. But sometimes, I sink all the way in. I submerge myself, drench myself in it. I'm soaked with memory, beads of it rolling down my arms and dripping off my fingertips. It's an important memory. Sun through leaves. Gold green shadows. They follow me still.
My father was an elf, Eldritch Knight and one of the military advisors to Queen Edasseril. He was not well liked by many of the others though, due to my mother. Elven society is still largely opposed to interactions with non-elves, and humans in particular. I'm still not sure really how she managed to call the Fierani Forest her home, but she was one of the best rangers I have seen even to this day. She wandered the forests and mountains, going wherever she pleased. I don't really know how she met my father, they lived in such different worlds despite their relative physical proximity, but regardless, they did. It was mostly my mother that raised me, taking care of me and teaching me. We rarely went near any cities, only occasionally Greengold for supplies or treats. Father usually came out to us, spending a few days, occasionally a week, whenever he could. It wasn't often though. He didn't speak much either, I can't even remember his voice. I learned from him though. He taught me patience, gentleness, grace. For a warrior of his stature, he was amazingly kind and peaceful. Not to say my mother wasn't, but she was… harsh. Rough. She was taught how to live by summer storms and winter nights. Indifferent nature raised her and she was an apt pupil. I think that's what attracted her to him. He was almost alien in his love. No one was ever like that to her.
For all the good it did them, they were happy. Or as happy as they knew how to be. I don't remember if I was or not, and it makes little difference now.
I still don't know who attacked us. It could have been rivals in court, the Winter Council has a history of violence in opposition to dalliances with non-elves, but it could just as easily been one of the many enemies that surrounded Kyonin. Again, it doesn't matter, it happened and that is all. He had only been with us a day or two. The nights were starting to get long but summer had not yet left. It was twilight, and we were sitting around the fire, mom and dad cuddling, me enjoying whatever treat he had brought me this time. I don't know how old I was (I still don't know how old I am to be honest), old enough to wield my father's sword and string my mother's bow. Not that either of those things helped me. The night itself attacked us. A portal to the Shadow Plane opened in the fire and they poured out, shadows enough to make the very air thick and suffocating. They surrounded my father and tried to pull him into that dark world. He reacted quickly, attempting to dispel the portal, but whoever had opened it was good at what they did. They dragged him through the portal, yelling and flaring with spellfire. Mother tried to reach him, barreling through shadows, but she ran out of strength long before she reached him, collapsing to the ground. I don't know how I managed to get there. I guess I was small enough to go unnoticed, or weak enough. I tried to go through the portal after my father, but it closed on me, literally. I was stuck, part of my essence on the Material Plane and part on the Shadow. I could feel that negative energy filling me, my… soul, or consciousness or whatever desperately trying to rebuild itself. Somehow my father saw me. Somehow, despite being devoured by shadows as I watched, he managed to banish me from the Shadow Plane. I returned to the Material Plane, but so did the shadow I absorbed. I remember I was screaming, being seared by living shadow. I drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, I don't know how long. I finally fully woke up, drained and sick, but otherwise uninjured. It took me a while to stand, and I felt woozy, but I managed to collect all our scattered belongings. My mother was still alive, but unresponsive. It took days to make it to Greengold. It probably wasn't even that far, but I was so weak. I asked around and found a good cleric, a follower of Sarenrae. It took weeks, even with his care, for me to recover. Which gave me plenty of time to explore myself. I was changed, infused with a darkness that could not be purged. But with this came power. I had had no aptitude for magic, father had tried to teach me, but I took more after my mother in that regard. But now things were different. Now I had power, I could feel the magic coiling in my blood and skin. It was a bitter compensation. I had lost my father, my mother was little more than an empty shell, and I was still weak and sickly. The cleric said I would probably never recover. So far he's been right. Eventually I left, father's sword and mother's bow and little else to my name. I wander now, doing whatever pays. I'm good for most anything. Whenever I have some extra money, I go and visit my mother; the cleric moved down to Andoran and I paid him to take her with him. I stay as long as I can, soaking her in memories, like I am doing now. Sunlight through leaves. Green and gold and shadow. I don't ever forget, I soak myself to the bone. Maybe one day I'll drown in memories. One can only hope.
http : / / pathfinder (dot) wikia (dot) com/wiki/Kyonin for more information on the setting.