Wren was born to one of the richest noble families in Dalriada, the Montcroix family, who owned much of the kingdom’s vineyards. She grew up the oldest of three sisters in the Kingdom’s Capital, Oban.

Her family was a handsome one, all three of her sisters had suitors throwing themselves at their feet for over a decade, and as their mother had not provided the family with any sons – their parents were keen to marry them off to nobility or royalty if possible to secure their high standing in society.

They were constantly being prettied up to make an impression, taught how to walk, talk, eat and act like nobility, which they did well when it mattered, but Wren was never content in having her life mapped out for her, or that their sole purpose was to marry and provide children for some high lord or prince.

Their mother had been a mage, but had been forbidden from using any such ability when she’d married their father, a man with no such magical talent. He aspired to have strong sons to continue his line, strengthening it with the added gifts of magic. Any woman caught performing magic in their city was to be punished. They were feared by men, even those with magic of their own, as they were more often than not the stronger sex in that area. And so they’d been oppressed for years, forced to hide their abilities, and to keep their husbands happy without question. But still, three daughters with magical ability would fetch a pretty penny, and they might as well have been auctioned to the highest bidder.

At a young age, the sisters became highly skilled in the arts of sneaking out without the knowledge of their parents, or their household guard. They got to know every street and alley that surrounded their home , and they saw that not all were as privileged as their family or the families they associated with. Her father had called them ‘filth’, but there were children as young and younger than she and her sisters, who begged for bread in the winter. Wren had begged her parents to help them – they had enough of everything, why couldn’t they?... Because they’d rather throw ridiculous status parties for their pretty friends. It wasn’t who she was, she’d seen more than her parents had ever seen in their lives by the time she was ten. And she’d given away much of the food from their kitchens by then too, she’d even got her younger sisters stealing as well, and as she grew older, she moved on to coin purses. She wanted to take it all.

Her parents were abhorrent. And Wren grew more and more bitter with resentment, making sure their views wouldn’t be passed on to any of their offspring and taking a sense of responsibility over her little sisters. She encouraged them to practice their magic, and to take their pick from the armoury and learn to use a weapon. They’d get away from here some day and it’d be up to them to protect themselves and each other. Wren chose a crossbow, daggers and throwing knives, and she found any means of practice as she could.

She was sixteen when she’d been caught leaving through her window by her mother late one night, laden with coin purses, wine and bread to take to the streets, and her mother used magic to bind her, causing her a painful fall and a broken leg. Her father’s fury was heard throughout the city, and Wren had thrown the man from his feet in a fit of rage, using a gust of air to pin him to a wall. Luckily for him, he had guards and a mage at his dispense, and the young Wren was overpowered and thrown into a cell, barely large enough for her to lay down in. She spent six months there, alone, a trauma that left her mind much more fragile than it had been before.

Wren had the ability to control the air around her, her sister Blanche was able to manipulate metal and their youngest sister Lottie could cast illusion. Each one of their abilities made it easier for them to get around unnoticed, and together the three were any man’s headache.

Wren had been betrothed to Duke Ranald Kingsley, the King’s cousin. A handsome man at least, but he was of the view that women should be seen and not heard, and she publicly refused him, much to the embarrassment of both of their families. The marriage was forced however, as she couldn’t run and leave her sisters behind, and her new husband’s pride never did manage to heal, he’d most likely be rid of her as soon as he had a son or two. Unfortunately, the Duke’s unexplained death occurred only a few weeks into their marriage, and no sons were conceived. To this day, Wren wears black in mourning.

Wren continued to sneak away to the streets and wilds with her siblings, to train for a plan she’d started to form in her mind of a happier life, and the day her youngest sister turned sixteen, was the day they’d leave this place, and be free to be their true selves.