5 years. It had been 5 years since the war. Prythian was still healing, still rebuilding. So much had been lost that day, so many lives changed. Death still clung about the courts though the bodies were long gone, some buried, others burned. All sent off with a prayer to the mother, a hope of peace on the other side. The courts were healing now, the world almost a better place. Almost, the word caught in my mind. Sometimes I wondered if my life would've been different had I not been born to the Autumn court. Not that the court was really the problem, no the real problem was the one who still ruled us, the man we called High Lord, the man who was also my father.