LAMIA
As I held the blades, one in each hand, the blood from my palms coating the handles, a rejuvenating and authoritative energy claimed my body.
I felt my wounds begin to heal and close at a ridiculous rate. The vibrating zing of power coursed through my veins. My eyes are sharp and my breathing steady. My anger unhinged.
I stood up from the ground, not lifting my head fully, rather peering through my lashes and disheveled hair. I felt the fire burn in my eyes and wondered if they mirrored the heat I felt from them.
There he stood, across the grounds, hiding behind his fighters and a line of bears. I saw the King in the forefront of the fight taking out as many as he could in a bid to get to Silas, his brother.
Not today, my King, I thought. Today he is mine and he will suffer.