Livia was born into the House of Aranor, a noble family that held great influence and power in their realm. Their estate, nestled in the heart of lush, rolling hills, was a testament to their prosperity. The grand manor stood tall and imposing, its white marble facade gleaming under the sun. Intricate tapestries depicting the history and triumphs of the Aranor family adorned the walls. The estate grounds were vast, with well-tended gardens blooming with exotic flowers in every hue imaginable. Ancient oak trees lined the pathways, their branches forming a protective canopy over the land.
Inside the manor, the air was filled with the scent of lavender and polished wood. The floors were made of dark, rich mahogany, reflecting the flickering light of chandeliers that hung from high, vaulted ceilings. Servants bustled through the corridors, their footsteps muffled by luxurious Persian carpets. The great hall, with its massive stone fireplace and grand staircase, was the heart of the manor, a place where the family gathered and entertained guests.
Her parents, Lord and Lady Aranor, were known for their wisdom and kindness, governing their lands with fairness and generosity. They were beloved by their people, who often spoke of their benevolence. Livia grew up in the lap of luxury, her days filled with lessons in etiquette, politics, and the arts. She was groomed to be a perfect lady of the court, but her heart yearned for adventure. Often, she would escape to the stables, where she spent hours riding her favourite horse, a spirited mare named Starfire. She loved exploring the edge of the forest that bordered their lands, dreaming of a life beyond the manor’s walls.
Everything changed when Livia was ten years old. A rival noble family, jealous of the Aranors' influence, orchestrated a brutal coup. One fateful night, mercenaries stormed their estate, their faces hidden behind dark masks, their swords gleaming in the torchlight. The sounds of battle – the clash of steel, the cries of the dying – filled the air. Flames consumed the manor, casting a hellish glow over the scene. The heat was intense, the smoke thick and suffocating.
Livia’s nursemaid, Elena, a woman with a heart as fierce as a lioness, found her amidst the chaos. "Stay close to me, little one," she whispered urgently, her voice trembling. They moved through secret passages and hidden doors, the smoke and heat pressing in on them. The stone walls of the passageways were cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the fiery inferno raging outside. Elena led her through the dark forest that bordered their lands, her steps sure and swift despite the peril. The forest was dense, the air filled with the scent of pine and the rustle of leaves. Just as they reached the edge of the estate, a group of mercenaries caught up with them. Elena fought bravely, but she was no match for their numbers. With her last breath, she pushed Livia into the underbrush. "Run, Livia. Run and don’t look back."
The trauma of that night was burned into her memory, the sounds of battle and the sight of her home in flames haunting her dreams. For days, Livia wandered the wilderness, surviving on instinct and sheer willpower. The forest was a labyrinth of towering trees and dense underbrush. The ground was covered in a thick carpet of moss, and the air was alive with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves. Hunger gnawed at her, and the cold nights left her shivering, but she pressed on, driven by the last words of her beloved nursemaid.
She was found by Thorne, a reclusive hunter known for his unparalleled skills and mysterious past. His cabin, a sturdy structure made of timber and stone, was hidden deep within the forest. The scent of pine and the crackling of the fire welcomed Livia into a new, harsh life. The cabin was small but cosy, with a thatched roof and a chimney that always seemed to be puffing out smoke. Inside, the walls were lined with shelves holding jars of herbs and spices, hunting trophies, and old, weathered books. A large, rough-hewn table dominated the centre of the room, and a bed covered with animal pelts stood in the corner. Thorne took her in, recognizing a spark of potential in the frightened child. Under his guidance, Livia transformed from a scared, helpless girl into a formidable hunter.
Thorne's training was rigorous and unrelenting. He woke her before dawn, teaching her to move silently through the forest, to track the smallest signs of wildlife, and to set traps with precision. Her days were filled with physical conditioning, from running through the dense woods to climbing trees with agility. She learned to hunt and skin game, to find edible plants, and to make medicines from herbs. Every lesson was a step toward survival, every hardship a tool to forge her resilience.
Thorne’s methods were unorthodox. He would blindfold her and have her navigate through the forest by sound alone, or drop her in unfamiliar territory with nothing but a knife, forcing her to find her way back to their cabin. The forest was both her training ground and her home. She knew every tree, every stream, and every hidden path. He taught her to fight, not just with weapons, but with her bare hands. Their sparring sessions left her bruised and exhausted, but stronger with each passing day.
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One lesson stood out above the rest: archery. Thorne was a master archer, and under his tutelage, Livia became exceptionally skilled. He made her practice for hours, hitting moving targets, shooting in the dark, and compensating for wind and distance. She learned to make her own bows and arrows, understanding that mastery over one’s equipment was just as important as physical prowess.
Years passed, and Livia grew into a strong and capable young woman. She and Thorne lived a secluded life, hidden deep within the forest. His teachings were harsh but effective, moulding Livia into a warrior who could rival the best of the Empire's soldiers.
One night, Livia awoke to see a dark, smoky figure drifting through the hunting cabin they lived in. It seemed to go under Thorne's door, and when she followed it, the figure appeared to enter Thorne’s body. It was just a brief glimpse, and Livia convinced herself it was a trick of the light. She never mentioned it to Thorne, pushing the unsettling sight to the back of her mind. For weeks after, his eyes, usually sharp and clear, seemed to have brief moments where they were dark pools, only for a second during a blink. These moments were fleeting, but they unnerved her.
Thorne became more distant and irritable, and his absences grew longer. Livia dismissed it as fatigue or stress, but the truth was far darker. Soon after, Thorne led Livia to a remote part of the forest under the guise of training. There, they were ambushed by slavers. The forest that had once been her sanctuary became a prison. It quickly became clear that he had arranged this encounter. As Livia was captured, the last thing she saw was a dark, smoky figure leaving Thorne's body before he collapsed on the ground, and the figure entered one of the slavers.
During her time with the slavers, Livia noticed something that sent chills down her spine. Occasionally, that same slaver's eyes would turn completely black for a brief moment, just like Thorne's had. It was a fleeting change, happening only during a blink, but it confirmed her worst fears. Whatever had happened to Thorne had also affected them. The memory of the dark smoke and the black eyes haunted her, but she kept it to herself, unsure of what it all meant.
Thrown into the brutal world of slavery, Livia's skills were recognized, and she was forced into the gladiatorial arenas. The arenas were vast and filled with bloodthirsty crowds. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and blood. She fought for her survival, her heart hardened by betrayal. It was in the slave camp, a harsh and unforgiving place where hope seemed to fade with each passing day, that she met Tyler and the others, forging a new bond through shared struggle and mutual respect.
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The morning sun was a distant memory as dark clouds gathered on the horizon. The wind had picked up, carrying with it the first grains of sand. Livia's sharp eyes scanned the distance, her expression turning grim.
"A sandstorm is coming," she said, her voice steady despite the rising tension. "We need to prepare."
Tyler's heart raced as he assessed their situation. "Everyone, gather what you can and bring it inside. I'll work on a shield to keep the dust out."
The group moved quickly, gathering materials and securing the base. Tyler's mind raced as he inscribed runes around the entrance, focusing on creating a barrier that would let air in but keep the sand out. The wind howled louder, and the first gusts of the storm stung their skin.
Darius, his face set with determination, turned to Tyler. "I’ll keep working on the weapons. We’ll need them more than ever if this storm attracts unwanted attention."
Inside the base, the forge glowed brightly, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The rhythmic sound of hammering echoed through the confined space as Darius worked the metal. Each strike of the hammer was a defiant stand against his past, a reclamation of his pride and dignity.
As the storm outside raged on, Elric and Markus decided to take the rare opportunity to get some more sleep while Tyler and Livia found themselves relaxing in the common area on neatly carved stone couches arranged in a circle around the fire pit. The two had grown close, their bond forged in shared hardship. The sound of wind and sand battering the base provided a stark contrast to the warmth and security they felt inside.
Tyler noticed Livia's distant look and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Everything okay?"
Livia hesitated, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames. She had kept her past hidden for so long, the memories painful and raw. But looking into Tyler's eyes, she could trust him. Their relationship had been unspoken, a mutual understanding that they didn't need to delve into each other's pasts to care for one another. They were both comfortable in the silence, not wanting to spoil what they had by getting too emotionally invested. Both knew that every day could be the last and didn’t want their last day to be one full of needless drama. But this was different; Tyler needed to know about her past, now more than ever.
"I wasn’t just a hunter from a small village," Livia began, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. "For the next few minutes, Livia told Tyler everything that happened."
Tyler's face grew thoughtful as he connected the dots. "That time we went to the banquet, you looked so uncomfortable. It wasn't because you weren't used to it, was it? You were afraid they would recognize you."
Livia's gaze met his, and she nodded. "Not just that. If they found out I was still alive, they would have me killed on the spot. They wouldn't risk leaving any loose ends." She took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly. "The reason I'm telling you all this is because I saw those dark pools again this morning... in Markus's eyes."
Tyler's eyes widened in shock, his grip on her shoulder loosening as he processed her words. "In Markus's eyes? Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Livia nodded, her expression grave. "I’m certain, Tyler. Whatever this thing is, it’s here with us."