Karalee was resting on top of the court house, listening to the wind on another sleepless night in Slokana, as she heard the sirens. The sound peirced through her ears like knifes and almost sent her plummeting to the cement below. Covering her ears she lept off into the night, her black wings glistening in the moon light. She had heard this only once before, when she was only a child when her mother managed to sneak her in past the guarded gates of what is known as The Wall, and that was right where she was headed. Karalee was born August 3, 1994 in a small village on the outskirts of Slokana. There she lived, with her mother and father, and forced to work for the King. Day in and day out she would have to witness her father being whipped for his inablility to walk. The guards had broken his legs when he was young because he did not bow to the princess, and then they beat him senseless for the burden they put apon him. One day her father had been ill and could not go to work so the guards came to Karalees house and broke down the door. That is when they deemed her father useless, smashed his skull in, and raped his wife all while karalee was hiding below the floor boards. This is why her mother brought her to Slokana. And ever since that dreadful day when she was eight years old Karalee had been on her own. She needed somebody, anybody to talk to. Hopefully tonight would be the first time she met a friend.