"Not all laws are just, and at times disobeying those laws is the only moral path."

In a corner of the world, protected on all sides by jagged mountains, sits a land of forest and field long untouched and unexplored. These lands were long rumored to be cursed or overrun by demons, when in fact it simply is the outskirts of the faean realms and as a result, magic 'leaks' in. Most humans, being distrustful of magic (and anything they cannot understand), created wild tales of dark woods infested with evil spirits. The fae liked this just fine - after all, the less noses poking around near their borders, the better.

In a rather complex agreement between herself and the faean people, Iolani has come to oversee these lands and has even been granted permission to allow a village of sorts to thrive here. What started as a small haven for a few hunted people turned into a sanctuary for those who have escaped slavery or persecution from other lands. With an even more vicious attack on the slave trade from Iolani and the generations of families who escaped, the population of the lands of Vhachúir are growing. And with more slaves freed by force come more angry slave owners, who feel they are the victims of 'theft'. The people of Vhachúir collectively and with little exception swear by the words, "Elvhain tí na chuvoir" - "For freedom I will die." Being taken back to a life of forced servitude is not an option, and the already intimidating natural fortress of the enveloping mountain range serves the group of warriors who guard the lands well.

Each day more refugees pass into the lands either on boats through the narrow waterway that passes through a mile of well-guarded jagged cliffs, or over the mountains. A group of gryphons who have taken a liking to Vhachúir volunteer their wings to carry the rescued over the towering peaks and into the lush forests within. The journey does not come without risk - within the foothills of the mountains they face constant ambush from hired hands to shoot them down. The gryphons are swift enough to spot and outmaneuver incoming rocks from the occasional trebuchet, but arrows can be a bit of a problem. Gradually, only the best fliers began to take the hazardous journey, knowing full well their next flight may be their last.

_{Acrylic and watercolor on hot-press paper, 11X17 inches}