He was her strength her warrior her safe place until he was no more. Layla dreamed of her lost love. She relived every moment, every day, wondering lost without him. Life must be lived, stories must be told, histories must be remembered, but without him Layla became cold, quiet, unfeeling. Around her the kingdom rose and fell like the ebbing of the sea, brothers and sisters fought one another. Some fought for power, some fought for control while few still fought for peace. Illora was beautiful once, it flourished providing everything the citizens needed. Homes in the valley for growing families, fields ripe with fruits and vegetables to nourish the people, forests for hunting, herbs for healing and the Dragon blood born to lead and protect them. For generations, the people of Illora didn't know hunger or violence or fear. They prospered together, celebrated each other and their gods until that fateful day when both king and heir disappeared. Winters were harsh in the north above the sea. King Mikel ruled fairly amongst his people, he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty with hard work and spent much of his time building, farming, and training with his people, never putting himself above them. Layla loved her King and he loved her. In the thousand years he ruled over his kingdom, Mikel had many children and raised them the same way he ruled his people. When King Mikal and his eldest son disappeared, the people mourned, but the grief of the Dragon Blood family ultimately tore the kingdom apart and it fell into a shell of it's former self. Food became sparse as those who were trained to produce it were called as warriors for one reason or another. Malnourishment bred illness amongst the people and resentment between the dragon blood bred infighting and wars among themselves. All the while Layla stayed frozen in her grief, never intruding and only caring for her two small children. They lived in shadows much like the ghosts of her memories.