Darkness ensued once again, engulfing the land with its blackened claws and greedy bellies full of hate. The people are going to suffer as the Clans continue their struggles against each other, until only five tattered remnats of the peaceful clans remain. Friends became foe and families rip each other apart all vying for a chance to live, even if that means the destruction of a loved one. There is no rest from the wicked during this nightmarish era.

An eternal twilight will capture the land, bestowing the fires of death upon it and scorching the grounds ebony and crimson with blind aggression and deceit. No one will be safe, the most trusted become unfaithful, taking turns stabbing knives into other backs and laughing gleefully when plans succeeded. It will turn into a dark time indeed.

Where there is shadow, there is light. A prophecy has fallen into the hands of the Sîrfalas Clan, that their princess will be the one to end the destruction and to unite the people. To rise against the tyranny. That she can take to the sky, re-forge the kinship between dragons and between our own brothers; giving peace to the blood-red skies.

Within her heart and being hangs the power to protect her people, to protect the people who ache for the war to come to an end, so that love may once again shine brightly upon the land of Aýarwen. She will become Eärwen Sîrfalas, The Dragon Queen.

The formality, so painstakingly repeated and memorized, was forgotten as Eärwen wrapped her petite arms around the cloaked figure. She proceeded to plant kisses of joy upon their brow while weeping ever so lightly at the mirth welling within her heart. She managed to speak through the tears of joy that sunk down her silken face, "Oh Mother, how I have missed you!"

A smile caressed the warm but worn features of Lady Sîrfalas as she recalled the fortune she heard so long ago. Yes, the land was ravaged by war but here, in her arms, was the ray of light on the battlefield of injustice and lies. She held the key to opening peace and happiness to the land once more and this brought joy to her heart.

"I have missed you too my darling, Eärwen. My how you've grown; I am sorry I could not come sooner," Lady Sîrfalas looked into her daughters electrifying, emerald eyes--eyes that carried the intensity of hope and love that could brighten even the most darkest heart. "Lord Túrien, it is good to see you as well," she said looking up to greet Túrien.

"Lady Sîrfalas," he said humbly as he bowed before her.

"Mother, come, I have something to show you!" smiling eagerly Eärwen sprinted ahead and looked back to make sure her mother was following was following.

Lord Túrien's voice resounded with sincerity as he turned to Eärwen, "Not so quickly m'lady. You have yet to practice."

"But mother is here, she does not come so often. Can't the lessons be postponed for a little while?" came the sing-song voice of Eärwen, who stood bright-eyed and overflowing with happiness.

With smiling eyes Lady Sîrfalas answered her, "Do as Master Túrien says, I would like to see you practice your shape-shifting skills."

Joy once more spread over her eager face as she continued to rush deeper into the forest, her legs stung at the small welts that were slashed across them. She paid no heed to the stinging sensations, for she was filled of the happiness and the magnificence of being a child.

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"Master Túrien?" the words hung in the air by paper strings, waiting for an answer. Her voice sounded old and cracked in the small room; she could not help but shiver at the emerging presence that haunted the room. Something was out of sorts but she could not put her finger upon it, so she pressed further along into the home she knew so well.

"Master Túrien?" she called again; her voice trembled with each syllable but why it did, she did not know.

Her elven eyes accustomed themselves rapidly to the darkening room and her heart nearly leapt from her chest as she gazed about the room--a struggle had taken place. The hot sting of tears soaked through her heart and fell silently onto the floor, her mind raced with all the misfortunes that could have befallen her beloved teacher.

A puff of smoke and a pitiful cry came from the corner of the room; she quickly whisked over to the sound while the swish of her dress scattered the splintered wood pieces. She tore the hem of dress slightly as she meticulously moved a disfigured table blocking her way, she knew she had to reach him. She could not help but begin to sob at what she saw.

"Ammaráth," she whispered to the baby dragon and gently took him in her embrace, "What have they done to you?"