The DeLonge family lived in a small cottage, barely enough to accomodate the four people that lived there. There was Randol and Primella DeLonge, a quiet, good-natured husband and wife, and with them lived their two children: Van, fourteen, and Icienne, twelve. Both of them had inherited their mother's captivating eyes, a most peculiar icy blue shade, and their father's dark hair. Van had grown up strong, and was well-liked among the other children of the village. Icienne, on the other hand, was weak and frail, an outcast, the oddball out. Van took care of her, when he could, and though he frowned upon her extreme interest in magic, he loved her dearly. He would encourage Icienne to broaden her horizons, experience life, using subtle tactics to try desperately to steer her away from studying the arcane, for he distrusted and detested mages as much as, if not more than, most everyone else in the village.
Imagine his displeasure, then, when a mage clad in green robes showed up at the door of the DeLonge cottage.
"I seek the child Icienne," the mage hissed.
"She's not here!" Van cried, though in that moment, Icienne appeared from the kitchen. She recognized the significance of the green robes immediately.
"You're from the Tower... you are a follower of Ichlaz!" she breathed, her childish face almost glowing in wonder, her icy eyes round with disbelief.
"I am," the mage replied cooly. "I have come to take you into apprenticeship under Ichlaz himself. Word has reached his ears of your... potential."
"She will not!" Van asserted, placing himself between his sister and the mage. "She will not disgrace us!"
"Disgrace?!" the mage bellowed. The cottage seemed to shake on its very foundations.
"Enough!" Rondel squeaked, and everyone looked at him. He blushed and cleared his throat, as if he had something important to say, though he shook. Primella shivered just as violently next to her husband.
"I mean, that is to say..." He stumbled over his words. "P-perhaps we should ask Icienne what she thinks?"
Icienne stepped around from behind her brother, her eyes still upon the mage. "Tell me more."
"Certainly." The mage nodded and smiled warmly down at Icienne. "Your apprenticeship will last for eight years, during which you shall undergo intense training in the ways of the arcane, learning to harness the power that dwells deep within you. Then, once your eight years have passed, you shall be set a task, the completion of which will unleash within you power you cannot imagine. Will you come?"
Van took Icienne by the shoulders and shook her, forcing her to look at him. "You do not understand what he is asking of you! They will take you, and they will use you, and once you are of no more use to them, they will break you! Don't you see?" His voice was frantic. "I do not pretend to understand what sort of power lies within you, sister, but I do know they fear you, what you might become! They will kill you to keep you from surpassing them in might! I have heard awful tales of the Tower, and I don't think you should--"
"Stop it!" Icienne cried at last, wrenching herself from her brother's grasp. "I do not belong in a world where no one understands me! A fire burns within me, and only by gaining the knowledge I can acquire at the Tower will the fire be extinguished!"
Icienne turned to face the mage. "I will go."
"So be it." The mage smiled again, and took Icienne by the hand.
"NO!" Van screamed as Icienne passed over the threshhold of the cottage. He looked desperately at his parents for aid, but they feared their daughter as much as everyone else in the village, and knew that if they kept her from persuing her passion, life would not be easy for them.
Seeing he would get no help from his parents, Van turned his gaze back to Icienne, his eyes reflecting his anger, and his deep hurt. "You cannot return here! You are abandoning your family, casting us aside!" The door to the cottage swung shut, and Van's voice could be heard, crying in vain after his sister.
"I will never forgive you for embracing the hand of Evil!" His voice faded.
"Never!"
Icienne jolted out of her memory as Arkhann spoke to her, and it took a moment for his words to register.
"My past." she replied simply. "The Captain of the garrison... his second in command that accompanied him in the delivery of our horses... is my brother."
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