I woke to a beautiful and painful forgetfulness until memory suddenly found me again and crushed me completely.

My parents were dead. My grandfather was dead. My home was gone.

No. No, I couldn't believe it. It wasn't real. My mother couldn't have died there, dagger in her chest. My father couldn't have been hit by that arrow. They must have been wrong about my grandfather dying. I didn't kill those two men in the tunnel. It's all just a dream. A nightmare. I'm going to wake up soon and Mum and Dad and Grandpa will be there.

"Anyone in there?" A rough voice rang through the air. I opened my eyes suddenly and saw a man standing at the door. A sudden spark of recognition rushed through me as I saw him. Not recognition of his midnight black hair or kind gray eyes but of him. The very soul and personality of the man. A part of me, a deep, intrinsic part that looked at this man and knew him to his very soul.

This was Odin Swallow. The man who's mind was a forest.

"No," he called out, a clear lie. He could see me right in front of him. "I'm going to have a closer look, though. Seeing if there's anything that can help the search," The man grunted in acknowledgment.

" I'll continue without you, then. I'll try to walk slowly, though. Find me back here in an hour."

"Gotcha," the man replied. Once the other person had left he knelt down and walked slowly toward me, like I was a nervous puppy he was trying not scare.

"Hi there," he said softly. "What's your name?" A pointless question. He knew who I was.

"Vivi," I said softly.

"Hey Vivi," he smiled at me. "I bet you're hungry. I bet you're scared, too. Don't be. I'm going to look after you. How old are you?'

"Nine and a month," I replied.

"Very specific," he smiled. "It's a good age to be, nine and a month." He reached out his hand I remembered Dad's warning: Once you're in the safe-house then you don't come out, not for anyone you don't know. But I did know Odin Swallow. I'd been in his mind, the very centre of his being. It had felt safe, warm, kind.

I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. I stood shakily.

"It's going to be okay," he said softly. My father had said that, too. That had been the last time he broke a promise he made to me. That same broken promise would be Odin's first lie to me.

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He brought me to a floating ship docked at the edge of Silvera. There, I slid in and out of consciousness. I loved the hazy gray nothing of sleep. It was protection against the painful reality of waking.

At last I woke to a sharper reality and couldn't slip back into sleep. I walked across the small room and climbed up the deck as though drawn by an invisible string.

"I am Tyrion Lasith!" His voice rang out and I had little time to take in my surroundings. The ship hung suspended over a ruined Silvera with Tyrion in its centre. The palace was in ruin, and ten similar ships hovered over it, all circling Lasith like sharks.

"The Silverians are dead! Arthur and Mariee Silverian, traitors to their city and the archipelago were killed by my own hand. The traitor's husband, Maurice, is dead. And so is their abomination of a daughter. I am a StoneWarden, and the last Silverian-blooded elf in the archipelago. I am like stone; unwavering, unbreaking, reborn from the time of Silvera's greatest sorrow. I ask the Lords and Ladies gathered her today to name me the Lord of Silvera and to honour the law of the Sacred Twelve that declares that there must always be twelve islands and twelve Lords and Ladies of the Elven Queen's blood."

One by one, each Lord or Lady named Tyrion, even Odin. I turned away, the bitter taste of hatred building up in my mouth.

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I did not know that I slept, only that I woke up to see Odin looking over me."Vivienne," he said softly, giving me a weak smile. "There are people looking for you as we speak. People who will do anything to find you. Dangerous people who want to hurt you. You need to hide."

There was a deep and heavy silence as Odin watched me.

"Tyrion Lasith is murderous scum," he spat, suddenly filled with anger. "I knew your mother. She was a good woman, a kind woman. Your father and I were friends. I know the Silverians are not as Tyrion says they were. I know the fall of Silvera didn't unfold as he said it did. I want to protect you, Vivienne. I didn't help your mother and father when I should have. Even though they wouldn't have hesitated to help me."He sucked in a deep and shaky breath.

"My daughter died very recently, Vivienne." He said carefully. In his eyes, I saw a deep and unfathomable grief. It never truly left him, "She was your age. Well, actually she was nine and two months." He gave me a little smile. "She looked a lot like you. Except for the hair." That was only natural. My hair was silver.

"Her name was Talia Swallow. No one knew her power before she died. It was a late bloomer."It slowly dawned on me what about Odin was going to do.

"I can hide you in plain sight, Vivi. You can become Talia. I could keep you safe. Do you want that, Vivienne?"

I was lost and alone and uncertain. Odin seemed kind, seemed safe. And I had nowhere else to go, no one else to look after me.

"Yes," I replied, and took his hand again. In a single moment, my destiny changed. I was the girl meant to rule Silvera, the girl meant to bring a dynasty back to power. I was Vivienne Silverian.

But that girl was alone in a world of snakes. Odin promised me a home and I took it. I took on a dead girl's life; I became Talia Swallow. Talia wasn't destined for fear and hatred. Talia's destiny was a life at her brother's side. Talia's destiny was a place in Veron, the City of Music. Talia had a living family, an elder brother named Orion who would love her as much as she loved him, a city-state that would embrace her with open arms. Talia had love and children and life in her future. Vivienne had only fear and death.

With a simple word and a small, nine-year-old's hand reaching towards Orion's, Vivienne Silverian disappeared and she became a dead girl brought back to life: Talia, the Silver Swallow.