Before time had been Forced to turn backwards. Before to the very origin of this tale. In the great Empire of Clanton, the prestigious Marquisate of Lysander, shrouded in a black veil as it mourned the passing of its lords. Elora and Oasis, the young children, were paying their respects to their parents who had encountered an accident on their way to Lorraine. Rumor had it that the snowy ice covering the beautiful hills had destroyed the carriages, merchants and everything that came under it. The people, the animals, even things with no light, all buried under the snow and derbies, without any distinction for rich and poor, for those of high birth and those of low for a living. And non-living. Dead or alive, there remained only snow.
The news that struck the young children left them alone in the center of a snowy Blizzard with no shelter, no guide, only each other as Elora looked at the young Oasis. Her little star. She was heartbroken that young Child looked like all of his world had come crashing down. They could think of nothing. The children felt lumps form in their throat as they tried to hold back their tears. Their throat felt swollen and painful, the pain getting more and more intense until they could hold no more. He cried with the other in their arms. The 16-year-old girl and her 14-year-old treasure. That night one could hear whales throughout the manner. The shadow of death surrounded the mansion. The next morning Laura opened her eyes red and fallen. In her eyes before her, she saw her little star eyes closed, the skin near the eye's red and puffy. His young face devoid of youth.
Looking at the young Oasis in front of her, she decided to stay strong. It wasn't just her who had lost; it was them. During the funeral the children had their heads held high shrouded by a black veil, the young lady of the Manor white lilies in one hand and the young Lord's hand in the other, the young Lord, Of the Manor. Dressed in black. Hand in hand with his strong and beautiful sister, the funeral came to an end, and the uninvited guests were forced to leave the Manor at command of the new Rigid Lords of the Marquisate. the Manor slowly bloomed again. Regaining its liveliness and youth, trying to heal the painful wounds of the past, they moved on.
They learned together little by little. At first, it was hard not knowing what to do or how. Where would they even start, but slowly and with determination. Hanging onto the little ropes that they found, they moved on. Now the young Lord and the Lady were fully capable of running the marquisate. In a matter of time, they had bloomed. Not into just gentle flower. But flowers that had learned to use their thorns for protection.