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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: THE GIFT OF FATE (|)
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2021-11-27 18:46:11Yet she knew that her growth would be stunted, because there would be no real danger to sharpen her abilities to the point of reflexive activity. Besides, she had no reason to stay behind anymore. There were no clingy relatives to consider, or anyone to be missed. She was sure that she wouldn’t be missed either. She simply wanted out.
If Evanora knew that her Awakening would signal the end of her innocence and the start of her misery for the next two centuries, she would never have Awoken. She’d have committed suicide before her Awakening, because trying to run away was tantamount to death- she’d be caught, dragged back home and whipped to stupor for disgracing the family name.
Unlike her taciturn nature, her Awakening was anything but silent.
It started with a subtle change in the aura that enveloped the atmosphere. Previously, it was downright depressing. But soon, her pure aura began to eat away at the depressive atmosphere, easing the gener
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For some reason, she had been getting a bad feeling ever since she saw black stains on her diary. At first, she chalked it up to being paranoid, and assumed that the stains must have been due to her worsening health as a result of practicing a branch of magic that was as much draining as it was time consuming. Were it not for her power over time, she would not be able to simultaneously hone her natural gift of Fate so that it was not in any way inferior to her acquired gift of necromancy.However, when she woke up in the basement of the Vischer mansion, she knew that her decision to ignore the black stains on her diary was a mistake. A big mistake that she would pay dearly for.Evanora thought she knew what suffering was. But her father exposed her to an entirely new level of suffering. He showed her suffering in its truest sense, the one that is afflicts you from within, and not without.She refused to help him at first. Starving and whipping her made no differ
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The destruction and near annihilation of one the most powerful families of ancient magic did not bring joy to any witch or wizard. Instead, it threw them into a state of mourning and great depression. They had not just lost a highly skilled wizard that remained unrivalled, even in death, but also a beacon of light, hope and peace. The Vischer family were the epitome of pure warmth untainted by the quest for power, and the fact that their story ended in such a tragic manner proved to anyone that no one was above corruption.No one is above deviation. No one is too good to sin, or go astray. No one is free of the urge to do wrong or to perpetuate evil. Thus, no one should rest on their oars, setting themselves or anyone else for that matter on a pedestal of absolute purity or goodness. If even the Vischer family, with their longstanding reputation and penchant for goodness, could fall victim to the lure of deviant magic, irrespective of whatever reasons lay behind it, there is
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Evanora skims through the rest of the book- the inane details that follow are of no relevance to her. In this manner, she flips through the pages until a sentence catches her eye.This is the tale of the Vischer family.She stops flipping and focuses on that sentence, mouthing the words as her thin fingers trace them. Written in bold, cursive letters, these words may very well seem like a normal piece of writing that is stylised and highlighted. But those eight words mean something else to her.Evanora admires the colour, font and style implemented by the author of this compendium. This is not the first time that the story of her family is chronicled, and it is quite certain that it will not be the last time. However, the glossy feel of those words, along with the colour and style of writing are subtle tributes to the Vischer family.Each ancient family has peculiar mannerisms that are associated with them. It could be in the way they dress, eat
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“I need a soak.”Nevaeh nutters to herself, as she heads to the bathing chambers installed in her workstation. It is a lot smaller than the one she has at home, but she doesn’t mind. It is only meant to provide her with just enough comfort to concentrate on her work, not pamper her to stupor.She might be a princess, but in this part of the world, even princesses need to prove their worth.The aromatic oils, bath bombs and perfume oils do little to reduce the strain on her mind. She feels more clearheaded, but considering that she isn’t anywhere closer to making her up mind than before, the effects of the bath can be graded as a pass, at most.Drying her body is not an activity that should take time, but Nevaeh prefers to do it the ‘mortal’ way. She learned this from her tutor, a depraved mortal soul whose punishment was to be tortured for eternity but was retrieved by Wrath to tutor Nevaeh after a soul search that was
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The slaughter formation is triggered, and it reaps the lives of the opposition without delay.As the formation drains the blood from the witches, screams of varying pitches and intensities rend the air. The High Witch makes sure to seal the entire room within a bubble that prevents sound from escaping to the surroundings. Even though the office of the High Witch is in a secluded place, it is better to take no chances with something like this.The screams are a queer melody to Estelle’s ears, as she revels in their suffering. Finally, she can be at ease, knowing that there is one less hidden knife capable of stabbing her in the back. The opposition has overstayed their welcome; they have become a parasite that needs to be flushed out as quickly as possible.The redhead witch dies with her eyes opened, full of hate and loathing. Such venomous eyes would scare most people, but it only adds to the beauty of the pictures formed in her mind, the mental images sh
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