In a world divided into three races since ancient times, there have been three kingdoms. The first kingdom is the kingdom of the gods and sits in the heavens ruling above the other two. The second is called Amaryllis and filled with the prosperous...
One day you will lead us all to the safety of the southern lands to the last living land.
I am not a queen.
Oh but, Amaryllis one day you will be. I believe in you and so does everyone else. The whole world believes in you You were chosen by the Lady of Light herself.
~Holy Texts of Amaryllis
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"The army is no place for traitors."
It had never been. On either side of the war. Yet, there was one side who dealt with their traitors in a completely different way. The seven Mutare soldiers who had been injured, left on the battlefield to die by their comrades, now stood before their camp very much alive, each of them wearing the same darkened expression like a mask.
The Mutare commander, the one who had ordered the retreat moved from one end of the line to the other, his mind reeling at what had happened. It was unheard of for injured Mutare left for dead to come crawling back, completely healed, and ready to fight once more.
"How are you healed?" the commander snarled, his eyes cold as he glared at those who had once been his comrades. "You couldn't be healed," he spat.
"We apologize, sir," the female Mutare with wings said. "Yet there was nothing that could be done about it," she said. "The one who healed us gave us no other options," she said, dutifully. "We returned here to make the report," she said.
"Who healed you?" the commander demanded, his eyes burning. "Was it a Lekki? Are they dabbling in magic?" he asked, eyes wide with shock.
"No sir," the female Mutare said. "It was another Mutare. One with golden eyes," she said. "He simply touched our wounds and they began to heal themselves. I told him to back off, and that I didn't need his help, but the foolish familiar didn't understand the simplest of orders," she spat.
"Familiar?" the commander asked. "It was a familiar who healed you?" he asked, not bothering to hide the disgust bleeding into his tone. "How could you let yourself be touched by one of the impure?" he asked.
"The golden eyed familiar didn't give us many options," the female Mutare said, hanging her head. "We are a failure and a disgrace," she said, her voice filled with bitterness as all of the other seven Mutare hung their heads as well. "Please, punish us are you see fit," she said, sorrow filling her tone.
"I should have you all hanged, for high treason against the Wild Woods," the commander growled, his eyes narrowed. "But I'm feeling nice so we can reduce it to lashes."
Each of the Mutare in the line visibly winced as they knew the punishment that awaited them. Lashes were just a part of a soldier's life once they joined the Mutare army, and the more scars a Mutare had, the higher rank they became until they were the one giving the lashes, instead of receiving them.
