The snow swirled past in hazy rivulets, slowly spiraling across the blank landscape. Blinding light was everywhere, as the sun reflected off of the white hills creating a vast valley of luminosity. Light seemed to live and breathe in the air, it was tangible and reverberated off of the mountains that surrounded the valley Gayora, partially veiled by the gentle wisps of snows riding on the easterly wind of the early morning. For just one moment there seemed to be a sense of calm, almost like that which proceeds a storm.
Not a sound was audible in the white marble courtyard. Towering pillars stood erect supporting the frame of a ceiling which expanded into a grand open view of the light blue sky. High above circled a silver winged falcon at a dizzying height.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
A mighty gust of wind whipped the sky blue flags with the silver embroidery of a great bird of prey on their white poles. Beneath them stood a woman robed in a trailing black dress embossed with gold, and atop her head rested a braided golden band set with a ruby. Her eyes were a deep green that seemed to survey the lifeless scenery with despair. What was most striking about her features was he fiery red hair which seemed so out of place against the white background.
She turned and faced the west, toward Kalmali and lifted up a soft song of prayer. Her heart was heavy, but she believed that there could be hope in the near future, although she dared not believe it too strongly.
In order for hope to survive, she knew, there must be balance. Entropy had nearly destroyed all hope for the survival of her world.
In the midst of the silence she heard the muffled cries of an infant and she turned toward the great doors that stood behind her facing the east. With a mighty shove she pushed them open and illuminated the chamber with early morning light.
There in a grand bed lay her Elayne, Queen of Gayora and monarch of the doomed. Her white-blond hair was plastered to her face which was overrun by a look of mixed joy and grief, and yet she still managed to create a figure of royalty. In her arms lay a tiny bundle of an infant, wrapped in fur and squirming.
She took the child from her arms and looked down at the gentle face of the newborn girl framed with the same white-blond hair that formed a sort of halo about her. Then she glanced apologetically at Elayne, knowing the pain that she would be causing her. With a lullaby on her lips she turned away with the child and closed the heavy door plunging the room into darkness.
Shadows moved about the inside of the chamber as the flames from the hearth cast them across the walls. There in the darkness Elayne lay and accepted the silvery dagger of grief that tore at her heart and the cold metallic blade that slashed at her throat.
Riding over the mountains to the north in the evening, the fiery woman looked back and saw the long shadows of the mountains engulfing Gayora like a great mouth of darkness.
Safe in her arms lay the hope of the free world: Amalee.
