~~ A brief summary.
Born within the heart of Sithicus, Il-ianna Tyr'Valsa was raised by stern hands into the benevolent worship of Hala.
Her childhood, like most bound to the land of spectres, was drab and dull. Still, she knew no different, and Il-ianna considers her earlier life to be a successful one despite the lack of joy and warmth.
During this time, she learned many, many skills, all taught to her by her stern mother whom had little patience for mistakes and time wasted. She would constantly instil the importance of balance to Il-ianna. Good rest will result in good work, and good work will result in good rest. A cycle she must never break if she is to reach her true potential.
Il-ianna grew alongside two sisters - one older, one younger. Her youngest sister had dreams of erecting her own house within Har-Thelen. To reach a level of respectable power to her mother, and then start a family of her own to then repeat the process. Her oldest sister spoke of no aspirations. She was happy working alongside mother at the hospice they had erected, and desired little more of it.
Il-ianna, however, expressed great interest in power.
Her mother, ever an optimist, took this as an opportunity. Il-ianna would be up earlier than her sisters, tending to the garden with meticulous detail alongside her mother, before being shuffled inside of the hospice. There she learned how to utilise arcana - wards of protection put on each visitor, simple healing tonics brewed whenever the opportunity presented itself, even forced recitals of recipes to whomever would listen. While Il-ianna was nothing close to a prodigy, her hard work and dedication clawed her there day by day.
She was swiftly enrolled into any tutoring her mother could get her claws on. Each failure was met with blunt words of bitter encouragement, and each success was treated as it was to be expected. Still, her mother made the effort to celebrate the milestones when she could.
Once Il-ianna reached adulthood she found constant work within the hospital and across the miserable lands of Sithicus. Her mistakes in education weighed down on her heavily - mistakes made were an opportunity to learn but at the expense of time lost. Because of this she felt as though she was constantly behind in her studies, and that should she lose the balance of rest and work she would surely fall to nothing and be a disgrace to her mother.
An evening came where she found herself working later than usual. Her bag of herbs had split on the walk home and she had been too engrossed with her studies to notice. She followed the scattered herbs back to where the bag had split, picking each one up and cursing herself for being so careless.
As her hand scooped up another bundle of lost herbs, she senses something... cold... wash over her. Turning around her hands burned with fire - expecting a fight she primed what would've been a powerful blazing cone. Instead, her vision clouded, the mists claiming her.