xxxxxxxxxx Cause of Death: Murder Age at Death: 946 Family:

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Born into a noble family with ties to the royal family of Indraleam, it was decided that as soon as she came of age she would be married to the future king of Myste. This tradition had gone back centuries and helped keep the peace. The wedding went by smoothly, little did they know the chaos she would cause.

This downfall began with Windchime, a professor hired to teach her son, Beloved, the power of magic and help him hone his skills. Behind the scenes though, Khione and the professor were scheming. You see, she had no interest in the king. He was dull, and small, and stupid. She was better suited to take his place.

Soon, there was another child on the way, but he was not of the king's blood. He was Windchime's. All part of the plan. The child was passed off as pure and was raised alongside his brother. They shared a bedroom, toys, you name it. The two of them got on surprisingly well for siblings. As they got older, however, Windchime began to pit the brothers against each other, he was testing them he said. These simple exercises soon turned violent, swords were raised and blood was drawn.

Beloved, being the eldest, was blamed and his relationship with his father began to thin. He removed himself from his brother's side, preferring to spend his free time in the stables or wandering the forest. These wanderings soon bore fruit. One night he came across his mother and Windchime in the woods. The two spoke ill of the king; they had plans to assassinate him once their child came of age. Slinking away, Beloved knew he had to tell his father and ran as fast as he could back to the castle.

The next morning, outside the earshot of the servants, he told his father what he had heard. His warning was brushed off and, in a rage, this father removed him from the line of succession. Those who lie are not fit to be king.

Years passed, and Beloved only grew angrier. He had to put an end to his mother's plan. It was a blustery winter day, a blizzard had rolled in and the rivers were frozen over. Beloved had risen early that morning, planning on meeting his mother on her morning walk around the castle. He waited behind the throne and prepared to strike when she drew near.

It was half-past eight when she finally entered the grand hall. From her outward appearance, she didn't seem evil, but Beloved knew what darkness stirred inside. He took a deep breath and made himself known. The prince walked out, hand raised and glowing. His mother was to be burned like the witch she was. The two clashed, magic lighting up the room. Beloved, still young and reckless, was hit on the hip by a blast of blue fire and fell to the ground writhing in pain. As his mother approached, he prayed for a sign to continue, Was all this pain really worth it? Just then, the intricate stained glass behind them shattered, the cold north wind filling up the room. Beloved's eyes gleamed and he conjured up a spear of ice. He pulled himself back to his feet and turned to face his mother. The space around him began to glow as the ghostly figure of Winter herself began to materialize. She guided the young prince's hand, the spear plunging itself into his traitorous mother's heart.

She fell, dead.