The raindrops pitter-pattered on the outside world,
But in my home I was safe and dry,
Safe from the outside world,
Which would use me
For my magic.

That was, until I heard the hoofbeats
Of my older brother's horse
Pounding down the path
To our home.

He should be at the watchtower.
Scouting and defending from dangers
That could harm us,
So something must've
Gone terribly
Wrong.

My brother stepped into the house,
Wounded and limping.
My dad asked him what was wrong,
But then I heard an explosion
And everything went black.


That day was long past,
And I was now hardened not to feel loss
And to live constantly on the move,
To avoid the Raiders.
I used my powerful magic to survive,
Traveling with my horse, Hope, 
During nighttime
And rest during the day.

Eventually, I had outran them,
But I had earned the title
The Alchemist 
For my affinity with potions.

I went with this name,
Hiding my real name, Ethera,
From the outside world.

I settled on a mountain peak, 
Beside a waterfall,
Building myself a house
Made purely of Magic.

I hoped I would find peace on the mountain.
I was wrong.