Guardian of the Lightkeep

Blood. Death. Arrows and fire, the screams of far too many. A secret, kept well, buried beneath order and tradition. A way embraced by all. For the winged folk, the Journey is sacred, its coming as established as the tide. While some are bound to the sea cliffs as their ancestors had been, others venture inland to farm and expand in industry. Yet though their clans might differ in manner and appearance, when the sages call for their young men be given to train, all are willing to submit. Grimult held no illusions that he would be the one selected as Guardian. To protect their most precious treasure as it makes the trek through habitable lands, the forbidden wilds beyond, and finally, to the Wall itself. He might harbour secret hopes, dreams of the pride he might bring to his family and the accomplishment that might be gleaned for himself, but there were others stronger, more clever, that surely would prove superior. Until the day of ceremony begins, and a name is called, a figure in red beckoning him forward. For his life to become secondary. To put all aspirations aside but this. To leave behind the family he holds dear. To become the Lightkeep's Guardian.