Loud rumbles of mighty thunder shook the atmosphere within Natanstrelle. The angry, dark clouds reflected the hatred that disturbed the streets below, which were peaceful mere moments ago.

All it took was one remark. One stupid remark from the tactless Head of the Biabus-Lus family.

"Word is spreading that the Trolls got Lorrus-Lius! Smashed his head in! Well, one less Draoic to worry about!"

That last word barely escaped his sneering mouth, before a fist crashed against his jaw. A fight broke out between the two heads of the infamous feuding families again. Lorrus Draoicis-Lus' brother soon pitched in and fought against Lucas Biabus-Lus' older nephews. Soon what was just a fist fight between two men became a full on brawl that took over the streets.

Doors slammed shut all around them as the townsfolk abiding in the Central City refused to get involved. There was little use in it. Once they got started there was not much that could be done to stop them.

Flashes of lightning lit up the sky, throwing bright light upon their raging faces. The crimson blood gushing from their noses and various cuts reflected the ominous red sky. The fighters barely noticed their surroundings; they were too focused on one thing, and one thing only - to cause as much harm upon their rivals as they possibly could.

It was only when the walls around them lit up with a bright violet light that their fighting came to a swift end. Their breath got caught in their throats, they turned around and dropped to their knees.

"Stars shine upon you, Your Majesty," they all chorused in their rehearsed way.

An expensively dressed man was standing before them all. His left hand was raised high above his head, holding onto his light orb. It cast out violet magic - magic that only blessed-royalty could wield.

"Gentlemen, disturbing the peaceful streets of Central City again, I see?" King Tellum spoke in a powerful voice of authority. They all knew better than to respond. They just bowed their heads and waited for their King to continue. "How long must Natanstrelle wait until this feud of yours will end? How long must my kingdom suffer your utter disregard? Go home, all of you!" The men slowly got to their feet, all whilst throwing looks of disdain at their enemies. "If I catch you brawling in these streets again, I may not be as lenient. Go home and behave yourselves!"

King Tellum watched them saunter awkwardly in their separate directions. The Draoicis-Lus headed towards their home village, Iarest, situated to the West. The Biabus-Lus headed North to Tuanalis. The King got back into his golden coach and was taken back to Astrid Palace, which stood mightily at the edge of the Eastern village, known as Eartem.

The streets within Central City were peaceful once again. Nothing but the pitter-patter of rain could be heard as it washed the droplets of crimson blood that stained the cobbled streets.

Lorrus Draoicis-Lus quietly entered his home. He walked straight past the open letter that lay upon his kitchen table. A letter, which was decorated with the Emerald Army's stamp and was once sealed with the royal eight-pointed star. It contained words that he had already read over and over before he left to meet up with his brother. They tried their hardest to claw for his attention once more. But he didn't dare do it to himself again. His son - his brave first-born son - was gone, murdered brutally in battle, by the dreaded Trolls.

A single tear fell from his left, brown eye as his eldest son's face flashed within his mind again.

"Lorrus, is that you?" his wife's voice sounded from the other room.

Lorrus took in a deep breath and without a word in response he stepped into the orange glow of his sitting room.

There he was met by his younger sons who rushed to his side. He bent down and hugged them tightly to him. They were so young, Lorrus' heart went out to them. He pitied them, for having to process such tragic news so early in their lives was just not fair. Of course, they would miss their older brother. The one they looked up to. The one they wanted to be like.

"Daddy, you're bleeding," Aeron-Lius (the new eldest) said. He couldn't tear his focus away from the deep cut that was etched over his father's left eye. Lorrus quickly put his sons down and reached his hand to his forehead. He looked at the crimson liquid that stained the tips of his fingers.

"Oh, by the stars, Lorrus!" his wife exclaimed, getting to her feet. "I can't believe you!"

"Leave it, Lorren..." the head of Draoicis-Lus dismissed his disgruntled wife.

"You were fighting? Now? When you have literally just heard about your son?" Lorren lectured. "Is there not enough fighting out there Lorrus? The Emerald lads are dying out there and you think it is appropriate to throw your fists about with those food croppers!"

"He commented on our boy, Lorren! He disrespected him! He disrespected me!" Lorrus bit back. The turmoil that squeezed at his insides tightened its grip even further.

"There is a time and place, Lorrus! This is the time to grieve with your family, not to brawl in the streets!"

Without another word, Lorrus left the sitting room. He marched angrily across the kitchen, grabbing the letter on his way and left the house. He slammed the door, all the while ignoring his family calling after him.

A carpet of purple lay at Lorrus' pounding feet, as he made his way through the trees of Night Forest. The delicate Strelle fo bhlàth flowers coughed glittering pollen at his ankles as he brushed past them. He made his way swiftly to Luna Lake. All the magical plants that he would usually pay attention to - being a magical crop farmer, were ignored, for all he cared about was the letter that lay crumpled in his hand.

Once he got to the edge of the rippling water that lapped within Luna Lake, he stopped, and with a growl, launched the balled up letter. He watched it break the surface of the glassy water and he clumsily fell to his knees, a broken man.

"Why? Why Lorrus-Lius? Why my boy?" he cried out across the lake, but no sound met his ears in response. "Answer me! Illuminare-Trabem! I know you speak to Natanstrelleans when we're in dire need. I am in need of an answer! Why did you take my boy from me?"

This time a sound did reach his ear. However, it wasn't at all what he was expecting. Instead of a mighty voice, or a powerful song, the sound of a baby's cry penetrated the air.

Lorrus got to his feet and followed the echoing, pitiful call of an infant. The sound took him through the navy blue, Gealach Custos trees and back amongst the Strelle fo Bhlàth, straight to a wicker cradle that lay all by itself, abandoned in a clearing. Once he saw a tiny glimmer of movement within the basket, he ran over and knelt beside it.

He looked inside and there lay a beautiful baby, quite red in the face as she screamed her lungs out in fear.

"Hey, hey, hey, little one, shh..." Lorrus spoke gently to the poor child.

Hearing his voice soothed the infant and her cries died down. She blinked her eyes and looked at his dark face. A light sparkled within her bright blue eyes as she then seemed to look past his shoulder. Lorrus turned his head and there shining brightly in the dead of night, was a single ray of light, with tiny balls of glowing magic floating up to the starlit sky. Lorrus looked at the magnificent sight in awe.

As if following silent directions, he glanced back at the child. A glimmer of light reflected from a golden pendant that lay upon the baby's blanket adorned chest. He carefully took the pendant in his hand and let it swing on its chain from his dark, brown fingers. His eyes widened as he took in what was etched upon it, then he quickly stuffed the necklace into his pocket.

His gaze was drawn back to the now very peaceful child that lay staring up at him, and got lost in her deep, blue eyes. His heart hammered inside his chest. A smile pulled at his mouth, for he knew what he must do: the floating stars were a well known sign from Illuminare-Trabem, the great power himself! All Natanstrelleans knew to never question such a sign. As soon as those little floating lights reached his sight, he knew that whatever thought came next in his mind would be what he must do.

He was going to take the baby home.

He grabbed the handles of the wicker basket, in which the child lay. Straightened up and walked carefully all the way home to Iarest.

Illuminare-Trabem only knew what his wife was going to think.