The Prologue--

It was evening. The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees of Braedoch Forest, throwing its leafy depths into shadow. It was early spring and the forest was still newborn; winter's chill could yet be felt in the air at night.

On the eastern edge of the forest, the eight children of Isaak Romany were gathering together. Their home was a small house of stone, composed of three circular chambers. In the central chamber a fire burned slowly, varying light dancing on the face of a tall man in a dark cloak. He waited for the eight to gather. His face seemed set in granite, as always; no hint of emotion, no whisper of affection for the children he had raised. He, Maeron Duard, was their guardian, nothing more. They did not care for him either. Though they had grown up in the house, they often chose to stay apart from it: they wandered the forest, worked in the woodshop, climbed the small mountains that overlooked their home in the north. They were not like others. Their life had been one of isolation. They knew weaponry and woodcraft, but little of humanity. They cared for each other and yet spent much of their time in solitude.

Their guardian was afraid of them. Once the clan of Romany had been strong and numerous. Duard's ancestors, druids and powerful, vengeful men, had cursed the clan nearly a century ago. In the succeeding generations, hardship, famine, and war had plagued them--helped along by the druids. At last only Isaak Romany and his wife were left. They took their children to Braedoch and tried to live with them there. But Isaak was a powerful man of great personal force, and the few remaining druids feared that he would father a new beginning for the clan. They sent Duard to kill him. And he did. He killed Isaak and his wife, but could see nothing to fear in the children... behind his face of stone there was perhaps a heart, for he kept them alive, and raised them. But he feared them now. Alone, he thought, they could be no threat. But as long as they stayed together, the clan Romany might again arise.

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Arnan Romany stood in the shadows with his back against the wall. He was doing his best to hide from the questioning gaze of each sibling as they entered the room. Illara. Sam. Daelia. Taerith. Aiden. Wren. Arnan stepped further back into the shadows as she entered and took her place. He knew that he could not let her see his face. She knew how to read him and could always tell his secrets. He knew. He knew why Duard had called them there. He barely even noticed Aquilla's entrance as he mused through his thoughts. Arnan wasn't sure who would be angrier with him: Aiden, for not warning the siblings; or Duard, for breaking into the master’s papers. Arnan didn't regret it, even though he did not understand what he had seen. Something was driving Duard into utter fear, and Arnan couldn’t comprehend what it was. He may not have comprehended but he knew what the man was doing and he was prepared, but he didn't know how to tell the others. They would be heart broken, and he had fallen short again, by not even telling Aiden. Aiden would have known what to do; Aiden always seemed to know what to do. Out of the corner of his eye Arnan noticed Wren watching him. He was sure she was just as perplexed about him as Duard's summons. Arnan flinched as he felt a cold gaze fall on him. The master was watching him, and they were watching Duard. He shifted trying to relieve the tension of the room, but with no avail. Duard was watching him, Duard knew that someone had been in his chambers and as always Arnan was the likely suspect. Zoe finally entered and Arnan breathed a sigh of relief as the attention was shifted off of him. Still, he knew that Wren continued to watch him.

It was time. The siblings would finally know the meaning of the summons, and Wren would perhaps forget the way he hid.

"You wonder why I have sent for you," Duard said. "I will not keep you waiting. The time has come for you to go. Braedoch is no longer home to you, nor are you any longer a family. You will each depart alone. You will have nothing more to do with each other from this day forward. You are not to communicate, and absolutely not to see each other. If you do, terrible consequences will follow--I am warning you now."

Arnan watched as the words smashed against his family with a greater force then anything that had ever shaken their circle of protection. That protection was going to disappear in a matter of days, everything they held dear was going to be gone. He wasn't sure how they were going to survive, but they had too... didn't they?

"Make whatever preparations are necessary. You leave in three days." Duard's voice broke into the deathly silence. Arnan lowered his head and waited for one of the more volatile siblings to protest in shock at Duard for the harshness of this punishment. To Arnan's surprise the first voice he heard was Taerith's.

"You are banishing us?"

"Do you question me?"

Duard was firm and Arnan knew it was finished. Taerith would give way to the stronger will. The elder boy's "No" spoke a quiet, yet incomplete, submission. They had their orders and they must comply.

Arnan was the first to leave the room. He was already packed, and he knew he could not face his siblings. Guilt far too easily displayed itself on his face. Throwing his pack over his shoulder Arnan walked out the door of the home. Somehow he knew Wren was standing in the door watching him go but he didn't dare look back. This was a chance to see the world, a chance to live a good life not restricted by his over-protective older brothers. He had to make his own legacy now. He knew Wren was waiting for him in that doorway, he knew if he turned back now there would be no leaving. Arnan shifted the weight of his pack in an attempt to ignore the tears streaming down his face and lighten the load on his heart. A part of him had died as he stepped out the door. He kept walking.

True to his name, Arnan Romany is a quick fellow with a knack for being unremarkable. He is the third son of the Romany family, and the fourth born. He stands at about 5'10 and has dark auburn hair. His stunning green eyes are often hid beneath affected lazy lids that achieve Arnan the assumption of being "slow" or "drunk." Arnan has been known as the troublemaker in the family since the day he was born. Being the third born son, and not being interested in anything in particular gave him plenty of time to plot and scheme with very little responsibility. With a knack for creating little devices he was a mastermind at planning practical jokes.

Arnan was twenty-two at the time of the dismissal and quickly decided to make the best of the situation by reaching for success. In his naiveness and curiousty he instead found himself becoming the black sheep of the family and lost all contact with any of his angry siblings, with the exception of his beloved sister Wren.

A couple years later, Arnan finds himself at the age of twenty four with more of a dark past then he would care to admit. He is now in the service of several influential men and being pulled further and further into a black hole of life.