Within the fogged forest of the Feywood, a young couple emerge into the mist with their firstborn, tightly wrapped in his mother's blanket. The mother, a keeper miqote, looks down joyfully at her son. Her husband, a fae ravan viera, is nearby, placing his cheek against her head to listen to her words as they admire their newborn.
The couple speak about the baby's future, their bets for his interests and who he will take after. Though only for a moment, it felt like the pressure of fleeing an empire lifted from their shoulders
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Day Two: History
To our dearest child of mist, who has taken my name, the name of every mother before us. My beautiful heavenly ice. Your father believes you to grow to be a great mage, but I think you'll love the sword just as much as your mother.