In the far land of Asxairo, off the distant ruins of the Rovien Sea lives a damnation to the kingdoms. She is something beyond the great bounds of the ancestors and the Gods. She is an unstoppable force and she has a mission to complete.
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Her sanity was no longer with her.
It was long gone ever since she had run out of the damned training room and shut herself in the quiet seclusion of her little hut. Only then, did she allow herself to slide down the wall and draw her knees to her chest.
She hadn't cried in years, not since the loss of her parents and the disgusting torture she had been put through when she went to fight in the war. She never shed a tear for those who died around her, for those she killed herself.
Even when she lost a friend, it never wounded her. But with Lucien, only him did she feel the true pain of what it felt like to be hurting. He did something to her, something she couldn't quite explain but taste so clearly. He was invading her mind, his eyes like stars that followed her.
He knew how to wreck her, to break her with just a simple word. And now he was gone, leaving her alone to wallow in her stupidity and pain.
Distracting herself from the obvious sting in her chest, she pulled out the four books he had left in her possession and began flipping through them. The Aysein book, Rheynoak's book, the nameless forest green book and the Witch Clan book.
Flipping through the ancient pages was brain-numbing, the yellowing edges scraping against her fingers as she managed to sit herself down on the floor of her hut and read. The notes Lucien had stolen from the tribe leader were scattered mindlessly on the floor, no use to her.
They were mostly the numerous desert tribes contacting each other, taking notes in the messages and rumors they have heard from other kingdoms. Some were entertaining and somewhere downright mindless but either way, it wouldn't help her.
Running a tired hand through her hair, she traced a finger on the dark moon symbol in the witch book, her violet eyes skittering past the words underneath the symbol.
Invincibility and power. That's what the symbol stood for. That's all the witches have ever strived for hundreds of years. Knocking each other down, engaging in bloody wars, assassinating species of witches to extinction.
It was all for power and blood and invincibility. Something everyone wanted. Even the mortals.
Throwing the Witches Clan book to the floor since she knew she would scream in any minute, Venix settled for picking up Rheynoak's book, the black leather exterior of it rough against her calloused hand.
She opened the book quickly, being gentle with the pages as she glanced through them. For a selfish prick with no ounce of dignity, she had to admit, his handwriting was impeccably neat. He wrote his letters in swirls of grace, marking each other his sentences with a cross after every line.
Sometimes, he wrote in different languages and other times his words would mix with other Desert Tribe leaders but most of the time, it was mostly his remarks on the rumors and reports he has gathered. It was a quite impressive collection but a rather useful one.
