Author's note: Alright here's something that delves into the eyes of a family who'd fled the day everything changed. To demonstrate there are other who haven't forgotten either and how it affected them.
The attack on the Shining Isle by Gnag the Nameless had left no one untouched. It didn't matter if they were farmers or noblemen; the devastation affected all. Among the displaced were the Goldwyns, a family loyal to Anniera and the Wingfeather bloodline. Their patriarch, Eiran Goldwyn, had served in the Royal court.
On that fateful day, as they celebrated Eiran's daughter-in-law's birthday on the mainland, news of the invasion reached them. The fall of King Esben Wingfeather filled them with fear, and in a desperate attempt to secure their safety, the Goldwyns made the heart-wrenching decision to flee. They left behind their beloved homeland and embarked on a journey filled with uncertainty, eventually finding refuge in Torrboro, a city across the River Blapp in Skree.
Nine years had passed since the attack on Anniera, and the Goldwyns had established a blacksmithing business in Torrboro. However, due to the oppressive rule of the Fangs, their work was limited to crafting simple tools instead of weapons. Eiran and his 20-year-old grandson, Raziah, known as Raz, harbored a shared dissatisfaction with these new situation.
Raz found a thrill in evading the brutish Fangs, a sense of enjoyment amidst the adversity. This troubled his parents, who worried about the consequences of his actions. Eiran, silently observing the tension between Raz and his parents, understood that the siege of Anniera and their subsequent relocation had left a lasting impact on his grandson.
That same evening, as the day drew to a close, Eiran approached Raz, his voice carrying a mixture of wisdom and nostalgia.
"Your parents fear for your safety, although self-preservation is important. We mustn't lose sight of what is important. Your valor is a reminder of your roots…in a place very far away from here."
"Why can't we just pack up and go back home?" Raz grumbled.
Eiran then gazed out at the bustling streets of Torrboro, but his eyes saw another place and time.
"There was a time, not so long ago, when we lived in an enchanted land," Eiran began, his voice carrying a hint of sadness and longing. "The kingdom of Anniera, the Shining Isle. A place of elegant palaces, vibrant music and the bountiful green landscapes... Where the people lived as one with the land. We knew nothing but joy and prosperity, ruled over by the just King Esben..."
His voice drifted as memories overtook him - of courtly balls with music filling the night air, of working with the populace to prepare for the harvest, of long talks with King Esben in the royal gardens. But the specter of darkness was rising, even then. "I saw it in the eyes of that snake, Squoon." Eiran continued, a touch of bitterness evident in his voice. "But I could not prove his treachery, by then it was too late..."
Eiran's face darkened as he recounted that tragic day, when all they knew was destroyed. But for Raz's sake, the pain remained unspoken. Some wounds run too deep for words. After all, Raz was just a young boy of eight when everything had changed.
"For a dark shadow had descended upon the house of the Wingfeather bloodline... A nameless Evil dubbed Gnag, the Nameless. Eiran continued, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and determination. He ruled from high atop the Killridge Mountains in the Castle Throg, and of all the things Gnag despised in Aerwiar, he most hated the High King Wingfeather of the Shining Isle of Anniera."
Eiran shuddered for a moment before composing himself. "It was morning, we'd gone to the Green Hollows, where we were celebrating your mother's birthday with a picnic. The worst I thought we'd run into would've been common squeeblins, or perhaps thieving ridgerunners after the fruit we've brought along. How I wish it had been so."
"For on that same day, Gnag and his wretched hordes had marched westward and invaded the Shining Isle, where fell the good king, his house, and his noble people. For he intended to steal the powerful Jewels of Anniera. It was said that with those jewels, he would have power over all of Aerwiar but they were never found." Eiran's gaze turned distant, his eyes reflecting the pain of loss and the weight of all they had endured. "When news that Good King Esben had fallen, robbed of our homeland, we fled across the Sea of Darkness where we settled in Torrboro. Your parents and I took work where we could find it."
Raz paled, listening to his grandfather's words. He remembered how happy that day had been but then as they were headed for the city, the family had received the terrible news.
"Unsatisfied, Gnag sent his monstrous army westward across the Dark Sea of Darkness to the continent of Skree. And now, the land you see before you is ruled by the venomous Fangs. And for nine long years, Gnag has continued his desperate search for the Jewels of Anniera..."
"Alas, so many now believe that the Shining Isle with it's lost Jewels and the old stories are nothing more than fairytales. But we, Raz, we remember. But always we remembered the smoke upon the dusk blazing bright. For we had seen monsters emerge and begin to reduce an entire city to ash. And I never forgave and I never forgot." Eiran said grimly, glaring at several passing Fangs.
Raz listened intently, his curiosity piqued by his grandfather's words. Eiran continued, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and sadness. "The siege may have forced us to leave, but it cannot erase the strength and resilience that runs through our veins. You carry that legacy within you, Raz. It's a reminder of our people, our traditions, and the hope that still flickers in our hearts."
As Eiran spoke, Raz felt a renewed sense of purpose stirring within him. The weight of his actions and the consequences they held became clearer. He understood that his defiance and thrill-seeking were not merely acts of youthful rebellion, but a reflection of the indomitable spirit that had been passed down through generations.
His grandfather's words had ignited a spark within him, a longing to reclaim their heritage and honor the sacrifices of their ancestors. With his roots firmly planted in his heart, Raz vowed to forge his own path, one that would carry the legacy of the Goldwyns and the spirit of Anniera into the world that lay before them.
Little did he know that the winds of change would soon fall upon Aerwiar and it would start one fateful summer…