It started with a wish.

Even at a tender age, Ayvriel knew.

The third and youngest, her parents wanted a songbird. Even while she was blessed with tutors and all that her heart could ever want, Ayvriel knew that she wanted to shadow her brothers on the path they would forge, be it in the halls of politics or on the fields of battle.

Thirty and barely even starting on her life’s journey, the young maiden set her eyes on the White Spire. A school of learning, renowned for many a scholar and spellsinger celebrated in the city of Tor Elythis. Young as she was, Ayvriel could sense the misgivings in her parents even as they allowed her to study under the wise magi.

There had been no expectations for her to soar high.

Yet she exceeded what they wished for in a third child.

Beloved by Selana, they whispered.

Perhaps so, for songs and magick came as naturally as breathing to Ayvriel.

Decades of studying and learning and discovery has cumulated in the end of the first chapter in the book of her life. In her years as a student of the White Spire, she has seen much. Of life extinguished and corrupted by the touch of necromancy. Of cities once lively in shambles and eerie in the aftermath of war. Never once allowing herself to be cowed by sorrow and suffering, Ayvriel was unwavering in her determination.

She asked to be granted permission to undertake the rite of passage, a path that was essential to every elf of the White Spire who wanted to pursue mastery of their song magick.

Her journey began with a seedling of a thought that would merely be an inconvenience, a necessary suffering for her to triumph over so she could become a fledged spellsinger.

Ayvriel has never once thought of her life as restrictive before.

Yes, she needed to mind her mannerisms and ensure her words were beyond reproach.

Yes, she needed to smile kindly and sing for the gilded who came to sigh at her songs.

She wore her obligations as a scion of Leviasi ia Saiph with grace.

She wore her duties as an apprentice spellsinger of the White Spire with pride.

And it was only when she was far away from the only home she has ever known, standing before a meadow of flowers that she realised.

That before, she was a songbird in a gilded cage, oblivious to the shackles that bound her.

That despite the uncertainties of her days and the dangers she may face–

–She was free.