I awoke to the sound of bangs and clashes. Rubbing my eyes, I peered out the window and stepped back out of surprise.

People had gathered at the gates of the castle, each carrying signs:

Freedom for Silvera!

End to tyranny! End to lies! End to MindWeavers!

WE SUPPORT LORD TYRION LASITH!

MY THOUGHTS ARE MY OWN. MY NAME IS MY OWN.  MY MIND IS MY OWN.

I stand for a free Silvera!

NO MORE LIES!

Death to Silverians! Death to MindWeavers!

DEATH TO ARTHUR SILVERIAN! DEATH TO HIS HEIR!

At the hand of the restless crowd was a single man. Even back then I knew him, vaguely. He was Tyrion Lasith. StoneWarden. Powerful and hated by my family. Cruel and capricious and cunning.

"The people of Silvera stand for freedom, privacy and basic human rights!" He declared, his voice echoing off the palace walls. "We declare our right to independence! As a city-state, as a people, we demand that the Silverians step down, starting with Arthur Silverian and followed by his heir and her daughter and submit to arrest if they hope for our mercy! We charge you with invasion of your people's privacy and crimes against all elves!

Every single one of you are evil to your core like every other MindWeaver walking upon the earth! We declare our independence!"

"Get away from the window, Vivienne," my guard said and hurried me away from the fragile glass, closing the curtains to protect me. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

The guard was Alexandrius and he was one of my favourites of the Silver Guard. I was determined at the time that he would be made the head of the Silver Guard and had been from the moment he snuck me a lollipop and made funny faces during a particularly dull meeting with yet another city-state with which our diplomacy was strained.

I had declared this to him after the meeting and he had laughed and smiled at me.

Little did I know that years and years into the future Alexandrius and I would meet again in a time when the world was wreathed in shadow and I would make good on my promise.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated soothingly.

No, it wasn't.

———————————————————————

My grandfather and mother ignored the demands, much to my father's dismay.

"Maybe we could bend on some things," he said carefully. "Compromise. Figure out a peace."

"Oh?" My grandfather replied. "These people want us to crown Tyrion Lasith. These people want us dead, Maurice. I don't see much point in negotiation."

Silence resumed and my grandfather went back to his breakfast.

"We can't just do nothing," my mother reasoned. "Kill them, surrender to them-all of that is better than simply waiting for them to march in and slit-slit-" My father reached out and gripped my mother's arm. He gave her a pointed look at me, and she quietened.

"All I'm saying is that there's no point waiting around." She said.

"We're not doing nothing," my grandfather told her. "I've given orders for those who are actually breaking the law to be arrested. Anything more and we risk inciting them further."

The hours went by. I overheard strands of nervous conversation from the Guard and Court. Later, I would piece them all together to create a picture of Silvera and my dynasty's downfall. Once I finally finished the puzzle I would cry out in agony for all my future self knew, and all I could have prevented with a few days ahead in time.

One right step. One right word. That was all I might have needed to stop Silvera tipping off the edge.

But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe, in the end, there was no one to avoid our fall and the loss of everything I held dear. We were MindWeavers after all. We were feared. And in the end, no matter what anyone does, what is feared is eventually hated.

And what people hate they will do anything to bring down. Tyrion Lasith was merely the spark, merely the feather that fell and toppled the world's balance. The Silverians were destined to fall because of the very nature of people. Elf, human, valkyrie. We all seek to destroy what we fear.