Novels by patata

Scholar Rai held the ancient scroll between two calloused fingers, studying the faded ink with narrowed eyes. The papyrus was brown with age, the content written in a verbose and grand manner, as was usually the case with writings from hundreds of years ago. Its importance could not be translated into words. In fact, it surprised him that his lord father managed to keep these imperial treasures away from the capital.It had taken him twice the usual time to understand the runes. He found himself impressively overwhelmed not only by the sheer historic importance of these documents, but also because the prophecies spoke of the expiration of the bloods of the Old.He feared that the first of the visions written have come into passing.The scrolls he found were written by the last of the true prophets, during a time of historic darkness, the Legaliath Cross, back when magic was free to be harnessed by every man and woman and child. The Legaliath Cross was a devastating war that decimated

"You find this funny, Silver?" This was the first time that Lakas had directly addressed her in a conversation. She could not help but shudder at the slight amusement that colored his normally stern voice. "He could have killed you."Her smile widened.Lakas almost mirrored her expression, but then when he realized that he had spectators in the form of the other three girls inside her cage, he erased any trace of emotion from his face. "The four of you are currently part of the most prized collection of the emperor, but let me warn you. Not all warriors in this camp think the same as I do. You girls are precious, but you are replaceable. Think before you act."As soon as he left, the oldest of the girls, a beauty with curly flaxen hair and foliage green eyes scooted close to her. It was the first time anyone attempted to communicate with her. Most of the time, she was simply left alone in her corner of the cage. "That man just protected you, Silver," Green Eyes laughed excitedly. "He

The survivors were placed in metal cages where the heathens could openly leer at them, appreciating the goods before they were sold. The young warrior called Lakas looked incredibly silly with parchment and quill in his bloody hands, and his annoyed look did not escape her when he was tasked to make an inventory of the slaves."Name?"While the prisoners around her sobbed and wailed for their losses, Enna merely tried to make herself small in a corner. She never spoke. She never raised her head.Lakas snatched her chin. He was scowling. "Name?"When she refused to answer, the bald man behind Lakas growled before backhanding her. "Stupid girl! Tell us your name so that we can be done with this sham and leave!"Elbows shaking, she sat up, gazing at them with tired silvery eyes. Still, she did not open her mouth."You – "Lakas stopped the man with a wave. "Drop it. I will simply write Silver."The man smirked. "Yes, a name befitting a horse."They could call her whatever they want. Why

*She woke up to a strangled sound akin to an injured animal.Crying.Someone was crying.As the sound grew louder, she stirred, slowly, groaning due to the escalating pain at the base of her skull. Opening her eyes, she saw bloody bodies around her. Bile rose, and she emptied the contents of her stomach into the scarlet snow. After a few fuzzy seconds, she realized with relief that most of the bodies around her appeared to be moving. Bloody, but alive. She profusely thanked the good Spirits that there were people who still lived, despite the nagging thought that most of them would have preferred to have died along with their dignity and families.Her arms and feet were bound. Bound with thick ropes. She tried to stretch her legs, grasping too late that she was merely a stride away from the big fire that her captors made.She flinched from the pain.It was the same kind of burning pain that paralyzed her before she blacked out.It was also her first memory. Awakened by a burning pain

The heathens burned the temples. They attacked the farms. They destroyed everything from tiny peasant homes to historical monuments more than hundreds of years old. People who resisted died. People who surrendered died. The snow-clad village of Cardia was stained red. Blood of men. Blood of women. Blood of children.The enemy's arrival was silent; their attack sudden. The sleepy spell brought by winter on the border village was broken by animalistic screams of pain. Cries of people burning were everywhere. There were shrieks of villagers dying. By midnight, half of Cardian population was slain mercilessly by the bronze-skinned men covered in wolf pelts.The invaders relished the sight of the pale people bleeding, enjoying every slash of sword and arrow released as the village burned. They meant to annihilate every Northerner. They were humans on bloodlust — hungry predators on the hunt.They proudly called themselves the sons of Summer. The Cardians called them heathens from the Sout

Even if the Mind Forgets, the Soul Remembers (3)A fair-skinned human girl no taller than the height of his waist, wearing a satin robe that was neither stained by blood or mud. Big eyes on a small face, perfectly arranged black hair in a style of braided bun, delicately balanced features that indicated she would surely grow into a gorgeous young lady given a few years.Her adorable appearance made one have an urge to pinch her chubby cheeks, and if there were any females around, Ye Mo felt that they would fawn over how the little girl looked like a beautiful living, breathing doll.‘And it’s not a sight that should be seen in the middle of a battlefield.’Ye Mo tried to open his mouth to say something, but he remained unable to utter even a single word.‘Dangerous.’It didn’t make sense, but that was what his intuition was telling Ye Mo. His body wasn’t responding—there was no flight impulse, no, there wasn’t even an attempt to fight against the girl, even if it’s a last act of survi