She stood amongst the fallen with her blood tipped spear grasped tightly in her hand. Tortured souls screamed and rose into the dead of the night yet she did nothing, said nothing. She remained silent. Still. Even as one by one, the raindrops fell from the darkness around her, washing her and cleansing her of her sins.
The rainwater cut tracks through the blood that coated her arms and snaked its way towards her battle scarred heart. The darkness above her growled and the rain came down harder. She remained unmoving, though her eyes shifted slowly across the landscape and the devastation that remained. The fires that shone in the blackness below crackled and spat their heated venom into the night despite the rain that fell.
One man approached her, lone and solemn, his boots squelching in the thick mud. “Arman has arrived, my Queen. His banner is yours.” He bowed his head and made his way down the bloody track, towards the encampment where Aysá’s prisoner stood
Myral - Chapter OneThe air tasted the same way it always did, full of salt, and blood with a bitter alcoholic burn. Even with fabric covering her nose and mouth, she could still taste its sickly richness. It made her stomach churn.
Astraia had arrived that morning; a tired and weary passenger aboard one of the many ships that passed through the Port of Dragons, the largest port in Mehina. As she departed the rickety vessel and weaved her way through the crowds of people, it dawned on her that nothing had changed in the capital of the island Syneea. Nothing at all. The same decaying boats were tied to the same dock; the same traders stood on street corners with carts that overflowed with the same sun-bleached cloth; and the same battle scarred drunkards stumbled from the bars that lined the streets that lead away from the aqueous fringes of the city and in to its immortal heart.
It was on Ayşa Square in the centre of the city and under the scrutiny of the Five Lords of the Kyanite Sea, that Astraia h