"I am the goddess of life." I grab two more threads; the men scramble forwards. I pinch my fingers shut. Two more corpses. The other men learn from their comrades' mistakes. Try to flee. "Do not try to run."
Too late for them.
My one eye glows, illuminating the rotten space with eerie silver light. The beauty of the starscape, its power trapped within my newly scarred face.
"Fear me."
I grab at the silver threads, watching and waiting patiently until every man has fallen. My palms feel like they're on fire. When I inspect the skin, the flesh has been torn from when I've grabbed at the silver threads of light. Burnt blisters, the skin turned reddish-black like the hollow of a charred log struck by thunder. If I must wield a scimitar like this, my movements will be clumsy, not smooth, not with all this swelling.
I should remember I'm not fully a goddess. The only thing about me that's Divine is my stolen eye. The rest of me is just the skin of a puny mortal Diviner, a witch wielding powers far beyond her ken. If I play around with it too much, I might lose worse than just my pretty hands.
I feel warm wetness dripping down my face, falling at the dainty crevice above my lip. I press my fingers to my nose. When I pull back, I see I'm quickly losing blood.
Mortals aren't meant to toy with the godly realm.
I must move quickly.
I scream as I dig my injured palms into the dirt of the pit. I scrabble for footholds, my godly eye finding climbing places quicker than my mortal one. Through the pain and the power rush, I make my way to freedom. I stop at the grate, see the faint silver threads from the plant life growing in the pit. I coax them forwards, accelerating their growth.
Long strands of green and yellow, slowly, curl forwards. The plant creatures wrap their tendrils playfully around the grate. I pull the threads harder, and the grate collapses. I'm forced to swing away to dodge the crumbling metal. I let go of the silver threads, and the plants sigh with relief. I sigh too, pulling myself up with the last of my strength.
Freedom.
Blood streams down the lower half of my face. All my Divine meddling has made me woozy. But I can't rest.
Not yet.
***
Champions,
Ode's getting used to these new powers...
But is she destroying herself to use them?
Uh-oh.
-Sophia
YOU ARE READING
A Priestess for the Blind God (Legends of Rahasia Book 1)
Fantasy"The Blind God walks around me, and I feel my mind prodded again like it was in the cavern, a spider weaving a tangled web. "Would you do anything to be remembered, Ode, even play a villain, the one who rises against the Chosen One?" In answer, I dr...
