"Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider." – Francis Bacon

Alachna City, Ardam 947

Aedan and I are the first to arrive in the classroom. He takes two thick leather volumes from the shelf and hands me one. We sit down at our tables in front of the class.

The classroom is one of the only rooms in Alachna City that has four walls. It has an archway for a door and two small windows in the opposite wall – all to minimise distractions for its occupying pupils. It doesn't have a roof.

The classroom can accommodate twenty seated people at marble desks with benches.

I check the number of the chapter we will be taught from today on a list that I brought with from home.

I open the chapter that we are going to read and discuss today.

I start to read.

"The final battle of the Second War took place in the first year of the reign of King Ferdaid, second son of King Ardam Vaubadon. This account was written by Ludel of the family Strongwind who is the Second Leader of the Second Order."

I look up as a few of the other children come in. I spare them a glance to ascertain if Gwenore is among them. When I see that she is not, I continue reading.

"The Second War started more than a year ago, during the last year of the reign of King Friduric. I am writing this on the eve after the conclusion of the battle. The fact that I am writing it means that we were victorious. The enemy would have crushed even the mention of our existence. We took precautions to ensure that the history would remain as a witness against our enemy. But now I have to report on the final battle and the events occurring on the days before."

Francesse Cloudwatcher enters the room. We stand up and greet her.

She is dressed in a hue of light purple, with a crown and bracelet of bluebells.

She indicates that we can sit.

"You have learned about the Second War, but today we will discuss it again – with emphasis on the final battle of the Second War. I encourage you to ask questions and participate in the discussion."

Francesse is a gentle soul and an excellent teacher. We always learn a lot during our sessions with her.

She reads the introductory paragraph.

"This was approximately one month after King Friduric's death," she adds.

Elorhim says something incomprehensible.

Elorhim doesn't want to be here. His Millennium is in a few weeks. I think he reckons he already knows everything.

"Elorhim Strongwind, you can read the next few paragraphs for us."

He reads reluctantly, but with a powerful, animated voice: "The day before the day of the final battle was a dark one. The sun did not rise. The horses in the camps were restless. The humans were nervous. They thought it was an ill omen foreboding doom."

He stops: "How ridiculous!"

He continues to read: "The day passed, but the sun did not rise."

He looks up: "Who wrote this? It doesn't seem as if they did a good job."

"Your father did, Strongwind. It says so at the top of the chapter. And we all know he wrote most of everything we know about the Second War," Aedan replies with a sugary voice.

Instead of scolding either of them, Francesse looks around the class: "Does anyone have any thoughts on what we just read?"

"Why did the sun not rise?" Aedan asks, immediately redeeming himself.

"What do you think, Aedan Elderlight?" She throws the question back to him.

He ponders the question, but I know he already has an answer: "It could be due to the Council's enemy."

"That is a valid hypothesis, but he doesn't have the power to do that in Ligtland."

"It could be an eclipse."

"Another a valid suggestion, but there was none predicted by us for that day."

Aedan has run out of ideas.

I decide to help him out: "It could be something that upset the Second One and caused the sun not to shine."

Elorhim laughs: "He doesn't have that power, princess."

He replies venomously.

For the last two centuries, Elorhim has been even more hostile towards me – ever since my fifth hundredth birthday.

"That has also been considered, but Elorhim Strongwind is correct."

Gwen pipes up: "We have no idea what caused the Day of Darkness – as we now refer to it."

She must have entered while I was absorbed in reading.

Gwen probably knows more about this than we do.

I consider the matter.

The sun did not shine.

It was not the enemy.

It was not our Lord.

It was not natural.

In conclusion, who or what has the power to cause a sun not to rise?

Light was the domain of the Seventh One; the absence thereof the Sixth One's.

But the Dark One did not have that power here.

I focus on the class again when Aedan read the next paragraph: "The times both before and after the battle was characterised by confusion, but the Council can be commended for their decisive action that saved Ligtland from certain doom."

"The Council acted like one from moments before the battle started. The Council construed a battle plan, and then our Lord only shared the part we had to do with us. The plan did not make sense to us, but only because we saw only a sliver of it."

I look up. Aedan stopped reading.

I realise Elorhim is moaning about something.

"The Council always do it. They think they are better than us. They keep us in the dark about things that are crucial for us to know."

Jelyan gasps softly.

"Elorhim Strongwind, I know your father doesn't always know when to keep his political opinion to himself, but you should not voice his opinion here. This is a classroom, and not a stage for you to do campaigning on his behalf," Gwenore says with a voice whipping authority.

Elorhim wants to say something, but he cannot backchat Gwenore. Questioning her would be akin to questioning his father, and we all know Elorhim wouldn't do anything to displease his father.

I almost chuckle, but I see Jelyan giving a scowl.

Strongwind keeps his opinion to himself for the remainder of the lesson.

The rest of the chapter details out the battle plan, its effects, its successes and its failures.

It is not very interesting, but it was a battle that cemented that age into our current reality.

I don't know how life as we know it would be if that battle had been lost to the enemy.

"I want you to write an essay on someone from the time of the war, and their contribution to the outcome of the war," Jelyan concludes when the lesson draws to a close.

Elorhim smiles: "I've already written one, a few hundred years ago."

"Good Elorhim, then you can write a new one double the length of what I require of the others."

Elorhim groans.

I smile.

"May the sun rise brightly on your minds, and illuminate your thoughts."

The class mumbles an appropriate response and start to scatter away.

Gwen disappears before I can speak to her.

As I exit, Elorhim approaches me.

"Maybe you should write your essay on the cursed Aebbé, I bet you're even more cursed than she was."

A few gasps.

That was one too far, Strongwind.

I grind my teeth.

I turn around and walk away.

"Run away, little coward Princess. Run," his words trail after me.

I continue walking.

I take the nearest path into the forest.

After a few steps, when I am certain nobody would see running, I run.

I arrive at one of my favourite spots: A large tree with a comfortable hollow.

I scour the tree in a matter of minutes.

Elorhim might have a point. Not about me being more cursed than the Princess Ardam, but about writing an essay about her.

I raid my brain for facts.

Not much is known about the Princess of Ardam.

She was born years after her brothers. There is no mention of the name of her mother.

She was cursed. Everyone knows that.

"What was her curse?" I ask out loud.

I don't know.

I can't recall ever reading details about her curse, or why we say she is cursed.

I barely recall ever reading anything about her.

I know the reason for the second son of Ardam's curse, but the curse of Aebbé of Ardam?

The answer continues to elude me when I return home hours later.