A/N: I own only the characters you do not recognize (i. e. Kristine, Jules, Queron, etc). Feedback is greatly appreciated. Basically, this story takes place during the reign of King Roald and Queen Shinkokami. Hatui is a country of my imagination that is beyond the Roof of the World.

Prologue

Kristine fought hopelessly against the chains that imprisoned her whilst screaming for mercy. Tears streamed from her stained eyes as the commander threw the flaming stick at the platform. Cries of help sounded from the figure tied to the platform as she struggled away from the rising flames.

The smell of burning hay invaded Kristine's senses. She averted her gaze away from the painful event in front of her and towards the commander's charges. A million questions flew through her head as she breathed in the tainted air, trying to calm herself. How can they stand this? Why won't one of them step forward and stop this? How can they just pose themselves in line, watching the murder of innocents?

She turned back to the pyre as cries of pain abruptly burst forth from the shape on the platform. The flames rose higher, hiding the woman from the bystanders, causing multi-colored sparks to burst forth from the blaze, filling the still air with stifling fumes. The captain and his officers backed away from the hellish inferno.

"Kristine," bellowed a pain-filled female voice within the flames as the wood surrounding the platform began to sink in. "Kristine! I love you. I'll always love you. Mithros bless you – never forget that." The woman's last words were cut short by an earth-shattering scream as the flames finally ended her life.

As the blaze died down, leaving only charred bones and heated chains, the commander signaled for his officers to gather their horses and depart the village. Or what remains of it, thought Kristine in anger and remorse as the officers mounted their horses, without a glance back at the destruction they wrecked into the Hatuian village.

Kristine leaned her head back against the shaman's hut, to which she was restrained to, and closed her eyes in rage. I will find those soldiers – she quickly opened her eyes as a splitting pain erupted from her right wrist. She glanced down at her arm, gawking at it – she was free of her bindings. She looked at the melted lock in awe – all the remained of her restraints was a puddle of melted silver.

She brought herself to her feet, groping at the spaces between the stone bricks for support. Gradually regaining balance on her wary legs, the girl thought back to the previous ideas that had run through her mind. Tortall – that's where they were from: Tortall. Kristine slowly stretched her fingers, surprised by the feeling of power that was running in her veins. Slowly, she began to smile.

The golden hawk that had watched the remains of villagers with interest flew off its Juniper perch with a shrill shriek as a physic scream echoed in the once bountiful hollow – a passage that was now desolate and barren. Do onto others as they do onto you . . .