Freya was nine years old when two strangers came to her secluded mountain village. They claimed to be lost, so her people welcomed them with open arms. The two seemed particularly interested in Freya, calling her a "monster", though it wasn't a word the villagers recognized. The strangers spoke such a strange language.
A week into their stay, tragedy struck. A fire broke out in the village, burning one of the Snowberry orchards, the brewery, and many of the nearby houses, including Freya's. Her parents didn't make it out of the fire. Before Freya could grieve, fingers were being pointed at her, the strangers had managed to convince everyone that Freya was responsible. Suddenly she wasn't the golden child Blessed with the form of a dragon. She was a "monster". The strangers took her away, from her home, her friends, the only family she had left. She found out soon after that this was their plan all along, these strangers were magic traffickers, making profit from selling magical items and creatures. The fire was just an excuse to take her without a fight.
After a year she was able to escape captivity, but it didn't matter. Where could she go? Home? She didn't know where that was, not that she would go back if she could. She was alone, ten years old, no money, no plan, she couldn't even speak the country's language. On top of all that, these people would only ever see her as a "monster".
So she ran.
And she kept running for seven years, going in and out of groups that hurt her, helped her, betrayed her, and everything in between.
Until she had finally had enough, and wanted revenge for the life that was stolen from her.

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