TLP (LoY Prequel) Prologue

When they found me, I was very young.

Because I was only a year old, the only thing I remembered was the warmth of my mother’s soft embrace. The sandy wind blew against her back, and the harsh desert night spread out all around us.

The arid and rough grains of sand pierced through the loose fabric and plunged into my curly black hair. While the sharp, apathetic crescent moon looked down at us as it rose in the sky, my mother, afraid that that sand would enter my eyes or mouth, tightened her arms around me. The man next to my mother supported her as she stumbled in the sand.

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My mother covered my mouth and begged me not to make a sound. How could I have recognized her earnest plea at such a young age?

The men who were chasing us were on horses, their swords drawn, as they crossed over to the desert. The horses’ muscles were strong, and their hooves paid no heed to the sand. They were wearing clothes that were as black as night, and they smelled of musk. Their faces were cold and heartless like frost.

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When my mother saw their shadows, she grew startled and rolled down a mound of sand. The men moved like bolts of lightning. By the time they reached her, they had already captured the man. I wonder what he said. Did he tell my mother to hurry and run away? Did he call her name? But they slit his throat with a blade and threw him into the sand, covered in blood.

My mother turned around and watched the man die. Before the pain of what had just happened could pierce her heart, a large horse raised its front legs and attacked my mother.

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Its hooves were like hammers as they shattered my mother’s head and spine. She screamed as she was pounded into the sand, but even then, she did not let me go.

Paralyzed with fear, my mother looked up at the black sky. She frantically begged the apathetic moon. Please… Please show us some mercy…

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However, no one paid her words any mind.

A man in black got down from his horse and snatched my mother’s blood-soaked hair. He looked down at her face. My mother’s face, which once used to be more beautiful than the spirit of the moon, was now twisted in pain and hatred. She poured out a final curse at the man. The words of the curse carved into the man’s face, but the attack was weak overall. My mother had already lost the power to kill him.

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Even in the final moments of her life, my mother never loosened her hold on me.

However, as my mother collapsed to the sand like a lifeless puppet, the man easily snatched me out of her arms. I was not aware of what was going on, and I merely writhed in instinctive fear. When my tear-soaked eyes look at him, it is said that they shone like the blue moonlight.

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“Aholiuyeo.”

The man whispered.

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In Paran, it meant ‘Three-legged Crow’. In other words, ‘The Black Priestess’.