The uncontrollable power lurking beneath Princess Alethia's skin can either be the savior of the Four Kingdoms or its destruction.
Princess Alethia was raised on three principles: (1) Mercy is for the weak, (2) Emotions are an unwanted distraction...
A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this part! Due to my hectic life and work schedule now, my updates have been changed to once a week (every Wednesday). If I ever find a semblance of balance and control in my life, I'll try to add in another day to update. Life is truly a rollercoaster.
Helpful glossary:
Saukumr - friends
Cirkabradar - cursebreaker
Fina rnsl yi vainv - You must be proud.
Qeileiglosei - celebrate
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If that wretch of a queen thought she could kill his parents not once, but twice, she had another thing coming. Specifically, his axe going so far down her throat she'd be shitting out metal splinters for days.
Ren could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, accompanied by the blood rushing to his ears. His body moved instinctively, grasping the crossbow and nocking an arrow. The grip of the bow was slick from his sweaty palms. The heat from the sun soaked through his cloak, scorching the skin hidden beneath thin clothing.
The alleged gods provided him with no protection from the damning nature of the desert, or anything for that matter.
Ren had nothing but himself as he had when he was a child left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the coins that he stole from patrolling soldiers flaunting their power and money.
The day Ren had watched his parents burn alive after years of selflessly serving the royal family, and its patrons were the moment he had learned a valuable lesson. The same lesson that allowed him to lie to and fight off soldiers attempting to arrest him or led to him snagging food off the streets when he'd reached the brink of starvation.
You can't trust anyone but yourself. The gods aren't there to help you, and no one gives a shit about you or your problems.
Not the elders who warily answered their doors to a scrawny, starving and begging kid right before slamming it in his face. Certainly not the gangs who ran the streets, lurking in alleys and robbing beggars of the few things they possessed.
A flood of suppressed memories raced through his mind as his eyes deceived him. Rationally, he knew it wasn't possible. The wooden stakes in front of him couldn't be real, nor the flames licking at the boots of the people tied to them.
The faces of the two figures were blurred. Splotches of tanned skin amidst scorched flesh were all that remained of their features. But the woman standing beside them had a face as clear as the sky above Ren.
Wicked amusement dripped from the tight-lipped, red-stained smile that stretched across her razor-sharp face. Her black curls, streaked with strands of grey, were pulled back so harshly that her forehead was absent of wrinkles despite the ones on her cheeks.
