The next thing I remember was a prince. I don't mean just any prince of some tiny country that no one really cares about. I mean the prince of the most powerful nation. The sea nation, Hatill. It was set on the ocean, within short sailing distance of most of the other nations. The other nations respected the might of Hatill and kept their distance, but that did not mean that Hatill and it's rulers were lacking in their military strength. It just meant they were biding their time, ready to strike. Which, in turn, meant that any family wanting to keep strong, able bodied men and boys was forced to hide their men and live far away from the arm of government. Which meant that the prince of Hatill had been raised in a militant family, and he was as cold and hard as steel. He never smiled.
I had fallen so far and so hard that I attracted the attention of the royal family--was I a threat? A fire sent by a hostile nation? A search party was sent out, and when they returned with me, a limp, wet, burned girl in their arms and nothing else to show for three days' searching, I became the nation's newest source of pride.
No one truly knew what I was--I barely knew myself--but that did not keep my beauty from bringing me attention. Did I mention that? I may have forgotten: beauty is not something we took pride in back home. But yes, I was beautiful. More beautiful than most humans; stars tend to shine more brightly than humans.
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