Now, the bards and storytellers will say that once you’ve got your audience’s attention, don’t let go. Just get on and tell the tale.

But this is my story and I’ve never been one to do as others might tell me. And besides, I don’t know who you are. You might be from another land, or even another world. Don’t laugh; the sages have long speculated that other worlds exist, and some of the things I’ve seen might surprise you. But that’s another tale, for a different day.

For now, it’s enough to know that you might not be familiar with some of the things I take for granted. So I’ll try to fill in the gaps.

You already know that I have a tail. At the time of this story I was about twenty years old. I’m fairly tall, with blond hair and bluish eyes. Likely that’s because Riss, where my earliest memories are set, is filled with tall, blond, blue-eyed people.

But where most others from Riss tend towards willowy slimness, I combine that slimness with broader shoulders and a more muscular frame. Weapons and fighting come easily to me, and that’s helped me a surprising amount in my short but adventurous life. But then, I am drawn to mischief.

I live in a kingdom made of many parts and ruled by the Shadow, who resides in a palace built on what can best be described as a floating mountain. Called the Demesne, this floating mountain drifts continuously from one side of the land to another, casting its shadow over the people below.

The Shadow doesn’t live there alone. It is said that he picks from the most beautiful and talented men and women to serve there as his playthings and servants, and barracks an army of orcs that numbers a hundred thousand or more.

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It is also said that he keeps a small zoo filled with unicorns and griffins and centaurs and rocs and other strange beasts that used to be common on the land below, but (largely because of the trade in their various parts) are now nearly gone.

There were once even dragons, or so the bards tell us. The last confirmed sightings had been before I was born.

More common are the sprites, elemental creatures that show themselves mostly to witches and are important to this story for two distinct reasons.

First, as far as I knew, they were the source of most of the land’s magic. And second, they occasionally became malformed and turned into marvels.

I’d journeyed to Ulm to locate one of these.

Known as the Fracture, this malformed sprite wandered about unfettered, like a leaf blown in the wind. It was said to be half the size of a man and edged like the frame of a painting in sparks and ripples of lightning that never held still.

It was a window through which those who looked could see whatever aspect of the past, present or future they wanted.

And I very much wanted to view part of my past.

In particular, I wanted to view the part of my past that had to do with my parents, so I could start to unravel the mystery of who and what I was. Because in this land of halflings and orcs and pixies and more, I’d never met another like me.

So far, I’d tracked the Fracture through dozens of towns over more than a year. No, that’s not true; I hadn’t tracked the Fracture at all. I’d tracked rumors and whispered possibilities through tenuous links and dead ends, and I finally felt like I was getting somewhere.

The latest rumor had led me to Ulm. It was said that a Seer of some repute could tell me where it was.

That Seer plied her trade in a tavern, and it was there that I headed after my excitement with the merchants and my friend Thork Yurger.