Standing upon the blood-soaked ruins of a place she had not even bothered to learn the name of lost in the massacre, Istrabell couldn't help but curse her life.
Why?
Why was she the one that had to turn out this way? All she ever wanted was the chance to control her own life.
Everything she had done had become nothing but a curse.
Innocent young men with bright futures became nothing more than sacrifices for her power, it might not have been her own decision, but she had done nothing but accept it nevertheless, so in her books she was as responsibleas those that had planned for everything to begin with.
Sons, brothers, young men who were the hopes and dreams of those who looked up to them, youths of promising potential became nothing more than catalysts for her awakening.
Her silver eyes flashed as she looked at the past of the gore of all those nights.
