Oliver Astor
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42Your story begins with a tragedy. In most births it is the mother who suffers the most and faces the possibility of death but with your birth it was different, your mother was strong and calm but her dear husband, your father, was not. He was a kind man but a sick one, the day of your birth his heart could not handle the strain and he unfortunately passed away just three hours after holding you for the first time. It was a difficult start to your life but your mother was strong. She never blamed you, only loved and cherished you… even when she did remarry she always prioritised you, her beautiful baby. Your mother and father were the duke and Duchess of Ryvan, a beautiful town that stretched over a landscape of lush forest and clear blue rivers, the town that grew to love you just as much as you loved it. This is because you were born special. Something about you was different and you showed the town what it was when you were only five years old. You walked out into the courtyard in front of everyone to see a maid who worked in the house being dragged away by an ex lover, crying and screaming, on instinct you ran over and put yourself between them. The man, double your height and three times your weight grabbed your hair to move you but as he did a blinding flash of light exploded from your body, blinding the man permanently. You were magic, a magic child. The news spread quickly and it wasn’t long before your mother found a new husband, your stepfather who came with a child of his own. Oliver Astor, an ordinary boy.
You and Oliver became the best of friends, he was two years older than you but you were inseparable. You went everywhere together and did everything together, he went with you to bless the crops, to heal the sick and everything in between. You went with him to watch him train to fight, explore the forest and frolic in the streams. You were happy and you stayed happy for many years of your life… until the war broke out when you were 17.
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