(Completed)
Two assassins were set to kill a girl. No questions asked. Just kill her and claim their prize. That was their mission. Except one of them was not supposed to visit Volney, the land of the dead and the other fall in love with a girl and...
Helloooooo! A very late update. I know. I am feeling horrible for doing this to you guys. But I must warn you. I still have chapter 11 to be rewritten. I just don't like the way that chapter was written. So you must wait for the next update. Let's not mention my exams, which will take half the November month. Life is just so unfair! Enough of this. Enjoy the chapter while you can. :)
Thankfully, this chapter does not have many rewrites.
The Legends of New and Old
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Serenity washed over her. The scent of snow and pine clouded her senses. She felt her skin bask in the moonlight. Her ears heard a melody, which tugged her heart and forced her to dance. The cold winds, which once stung, now caressed her. The last thing she saw was the shattered diamonds suspended in the inky space before her lilac eyes shut surrendering to the music.
The snow flew in all directions, as she danced. With each movement of her hands and legs, she disturbed the otherwise still air. Her feet were turning numb and her silver skin was flushed by the cold.
But nothing bothered her. It was her way of thanking the Spirit Keyah.
As she spun and weaved her way through the sharp air, she lost herself. She could feel Keyah's blessing coursing through her. Her patron was truly a gentle and a caring one. But just as powerful as Azaziah.
Her breath became easy. Her body was light and she felt herself float.
With a sigh, she stopped, though the melody continued. Her legs were crossed and her hands rose above as she topped her dance. When she stood still, with her chest heaving, she opened her eyes to see the three trees in her backyard.
It was, as if, a filter in her vision was lifted. She could see things with define clarity.
It was only then she felt a pair of eyes staring at her. Knitting her eyebrows, she turned to meet green eyes.
The breath she took refused to come out of her lungs. The corner of his eyes crinkled as his gaze focused on her. She blushed; but not from the cold. His look, by the Spirits, was like he was seeing her naked soul and mapping it so that he could visit anytime without a guide.
Biting her lips, she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crying trees, "What is it, Trystan?"
Somehow he heard her. As if he was the prey and her voice was the sound of the arrow released from the bow, those green depths displayed alarm. It was the kind of alarm when the person realised he had let his guard down for a fraction of a second while doing something he was deeply immersed in.
She knew that look. It was the same look she saw in her eyes when she accidentally saw her eyes in a mirror.
