I am from beyond the clouds, from the unknown barrens far away from the firmament of both men and beast. I am from the blood of the Queen mother and tears of a long-forgotten shadow of the past. I am from the heart of the people beneath me, from the trade of copper and gold, of fish and iron, from the always present, the proud, venerable, invisible. I am from the Silver Hills and the Valley of the Fallen Grace, of metal rivers and precious rocks that shame the riches of kings of old. I am from the Lords of Fhein, from the unbreakable legacy of pride and power, from the indomitable, the persistent, the murderers. From Mirkos and Ener. I am from those who do not look down nor raise their voice, from those who never make mistakes. I am from your dream and everything everyone will ever crave and ought to be. I am from respect and power, from reverence and retribution. I am from those who exiled the unkempt and elevated the great, from those who rose Ifnir and banished Jinstord. 

I am from those who found love within the forbidden burden of duty, from those who saw blood, kin, with disgraceful eyes that should not ever be and succumbed to a passion that would break an immortal Empire. I am from the martyrs of his golden hair and grey eyes, of his warm lips and words of soft velvet. From the mortified dark corner in the painting that I stare at every dusk and hide with fake shame, from the smell of the old rope that still carries the sweet scent of his neck on its strands of hemp. I am from those who hide the pain of love under fake strength, from those of the Divided Empire and a family at war. I am from shame, love, and pain.

I am from beyond the clouds. I am lost in the skies. 

“I am from beyond the clouds”. So whispered in painful repetition Lady Ephera Fhein, as her brother and lover hung by the neck due to their forbidden love. Their family soon divided, soon at war, would split the Valley of the Fallen Grace through blood and hate.

Grom Percos — Tales from Atmarka