angel_writes00

A story about a place that neither exists in maps or history books, this place was called Athame.

•••

"The root of every fear is the unknown, yet how can one fear what they cannot grasp? Tch... how misleading." His voice, deep and rough, sent an involuntary shiver through her as he closed the distance between them with deliberate steps, his presence suffocating in its intensity.

With a slow, predatory grace, his fingers brushed along her jaw, settling on a strand of her scarlet hair, his touch deceptively tender. "Knowing me will matter little," he whispered darkly, his breath warm against her skin. "For even in the shadows of uncertainty, you will come to fear... and desire me all the same."

•••

Aricia, born with extraordinary abilities in a world that fears anything out of the ordinary, was destined for a marriage alliance to secure peace between kingdoms. 

But on the day of her engagement, her entire family is slaughtered—by the very family she was meant to marry into. 

Grief-stricken and consumed by vengeance, Aricia swore to destroy those who betrayed her. She would wield the very power they had feared against them, seeking justice with no mercy. After years on the run, she found shelter within an elemental clan, hiding her abilities and keeping to the shadows.

But her carefully constructed peace shattered in a single moment. A burning touch, a chance encounter with his haunting gray eyes—an unknown force within her stirred, threatening to unravel her carefully guarded secrets and the fragile balance of magic, madness, and vengeance she had built....

Vengeance Through Passion

"This is unbelievable." Gara was amazed beyond herself. Her eyes were wide, alight with both fear and wonder as she scanned the charred remnants of the parchment that shimmered faintly with leftover magical residue. "An illusionist... no one in Athame, not even the gods, have mastered such magic. Whoever is behind this is a danger to himself and the world. Worse, he could have a dangerous master." 


She turned sharply to Lady Livia, who looked as though she’d aged a year in a matter of minutes. Pale and drawn, with sweat lining her brow, Livia leaned slightly against the armrest of the intricately carved ivory bench, her expression etched with fatigue. 


"Why don't we ever have normal problems?" Livia asked, exasperated. Her tone was light, almost humorous, but there was an unmistakable urgency beneath it. 


Lady Livia sighed heavily. Her violet eyes, dimmed by stress, met Gara’s. 


Chapter 77| An Illusionist