Blood of Eden
CHAPTER SEVEN
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The moment I enter the living room, my eyes are directed instantly at three figures sitting on the sofa. One is obviously Jamie. But the other two…
I suddenly stiffen, stopping where I am. It’s Chase and Danique.
Why the hell are they here?
Then something nudges an answer closer to me. The bet. But…So they still want to be my friends? Why?
It’s an awkward silence.
I glance at my sister. She looks almost glad to see me. She wants these two to go home now. It already almost looks as if they’ve tormented her. They must have gotten off the bus with her.
Mom and Dad continue past me, and so I follow, Diana right behind me.
They watch us, mainly me, as we all take seats. Jeana, John, and Diana take the right side of the sofa, forcing Jamie to scoot next to Danique. Jamie’s now more or less in the corner bend of the L-shaped tan couch. Neither she nor Danique look happy to be sitting near each other.
Being who she is and thinking it funny, Danique makes the best of the situation by turning it humorous. She smiles at Jamie and nods her head back, puckering her lips in a smooching manner. Jamie jumps up and leaves as both Danique and Chase laugh quietly.
Everyone else has taken a seat, and Danique and Chase both spread out a little more, knowing that I’ve sat on the floor and it’s probably no use in trying to get me to sit with them on the sofa. Besides, the floor’s comfortable for the moment.
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Dad speaks first, “Chase and Danique here, have already told us about what happened today.”
Suddenly my eyes narrow slightly. How much? I continue to listen.
“Jamie’s gonna’ be grounded for a couple of weeks for the stunt she pulled…Got anything you want to say to these two?”
I nod my head awkwardly and my voice suddenly chokes up as my throat constricts. I say quietly, but defeatedly, “Why’d you come here?”
Most people wouldn’t catch the sincerity in my question just then, the way I worded it. But somehow they see it immediately.
Chase is the one to answer. He’s sort of quiet, too, but he seems to feel strange, as if he doesn’t really know what to say. “First of all, you won the bet. Second of all…I guess whatever the hell happened in the hallway, whatever that was, it’s no reason for anyone to treat you like they do.”
“’Sides,” Danique adds, “We don’t let our friends go like that. We stick with them no matter what their problems are. You really think you’re the only one believes ‘bout vampires? Girl, you need to meet our parents. They’re crazy, but they’re good people, so who cares?”
Suddenly I can’t keep a smile suppressed. I try but can only cover half the smile with a straight face. I look down, shaking my head. When I recover, I tell them, “You guys are desperate…Umm…I guess I’m sorry about today then. I—well, I don’t know what else to say.”
Then I remember, “Wait. I thought you weren’t good at first impressions.”
“Beats me,” Danique shrugs. “Your parents are great. They’re normal and cool and nice. Anyways, so who’s she?”
Danique is speaking of Diana.
“Name’s Diana Hayze,” Diana says warmly. “I’m Marie’s counselor—was her counselor. Till I quit my boss. Personal reasons. But uh, there’s quite a few reasons as to why I’ve stayed around for Marie.”
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Dad then tells them, “You hear about those ten that died?”
Chase replies, “Yeah. The news was everywhere in the state. Said some sort of a serial killer did that…We heard about it in Washington, too, because of how bad they were messed up. Said some sort of serial killer did that. It was only a couple of days after my parents quite their jobs to move here. Like three weeks ago. We almost didn’t move here because of it.”
Dad gets up and goes to the bookcase and takes a wrinkled up piece of paper off of the top of it. He returns with it and steps behind the sofa, behind Chase and Danique, and he hands it to Chase, saying, “Take a look at this. I never believe Marie on anything until she did this.”
Chase takes the paper to read it; Danique looks over his shoulder. Dad leans on the sofa with his hands, over-looking them.
“Marie had lost it and went into some sort of a seizure and it scared us all really bad. We rushed her to the hospital immediately. When she woke up, all she did was ask for some paper and a pen, and she wrote it down. The seizure was about three days before Hugh was found.”
As Danique and Chase pour over the words and as John speaks, I begin to remember what I saw. I turn my head to stare at the floor silently, picking at my white tennis shoes.
“These are the names of everyone who died, though,” Danique says in shock. Both seem dumb-founded as Chase hands back the piece of paper.
Dad returns the paper to the bookshelf, and Mom speaks, “She has horrible dreams and visions, all of them linked to some so-called vampire, Michael. No, we don’t believe in vampires. But she’s definitely proved she isn’t completely crazy. That was the proof.”
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Diana continues the conversation, “I believe her visions are somewhat metaphoric, the dreams and all. She’s psychic. Nothing else can explain how she knew. No one knew until each was reported missing or the bodies were found.”
“That definitely explains some,” Chase says. I can tell he’s thinking about today.
“By the way,” Danique says to me, “How’d you get the scar on your cheek and the one on your arm? I noticed them earlier but didn’t get to say anything.”
My eyes flicker to Jeana and John, both of whom seem to be wondering whether or not I’ll be honest to these two. When I see Diana, something about her seems to hope I’ll be honest and tell them what I told her.
I glance at the floor for only a moment, thinking quickly. I hate to lie, and if I do lie, then they’ll probably find out later…But I’m not psychic.
“I saw something and it just happened.”
“What?” Chase says in a confuse manner.
“I mean, it just happened. Nothing touched me, but when I saw and felt it happening to him, it happened to me. He got the cuts, so I got ‘em, too.”
“Wait a sec,” Danique says, catching on at last. “You’re saying you’re linked to the killer who got all those people?”
I shrug. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”
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Chase’s eyebrows arch into a frown though he says nothing.
“Hey. Marian, here’s an idea,” Jeana says, standing. “You can show your new friends your room and you guys can hang out wherever for a while.”
“And,” John adds, glancing at Jeana and then looking back at us, “you can stay a couple of weeks with them whenever you decide you’re ready to fill that promise to them. Maybe it’ll do you some good. You need to get out every once in a while.”
“What?” Jamie’s voice shrieks. Everyone turns to look at her. “You’re gonna let her spend the night at their house and stay for two weeks with the freaks and you won’t ever let me go anywhere or do anything?”
“She’s older,” Jeana says simply. But her eyes are dark with anger, “And don’t you insult our guests. It doesn’t matter if it’s Lucifer. As long as they are welcome in this house, I don’t want you to let even one rude word slip. Not even a look. Now go to your room and don’t come out till I call you to come eat.”
With that, Jamie disappears from sight. A second later, we hear her door slam, to which my dad replies, “Add another week to your grounding.”
Danique and Chase are trying to not laugh. They turn back to me and I tell John and Jeana, “Do you mind if I just go with them for a walk?”
“Go ahead.”
So I stand and Danique and Chase stand. Danique asks me, “Could we see your room?”
“Sure. I don’t care,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. “Not like you’re gonna burn it down or anything.”
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So I show them my room, my plain, ugly room. But they like it well enough.
Perhaps ten minutes later, we’ve left the house and even neighborhood. We’re now walking along through town, simply for the hell of it. We pass by lots of store windows on either side of the streets and don’t say too much. I get the feeling that they’re at a loss as to where to begin.
“So where’d you guys move from?” I ask.
“Washington state. Olympia,” Chase says absent-mindedly.
“Whoa. Long ways,” I reply.
“Do you really believe in vampires?” Danique asks.
Here we go again.
She continues, “My parents say they’re real. Mom says she use to be what’s called a ‘human subservient.’ It means she was possessed if she didn’t cooperated willingly with them, but she wasn’t an infected subservient. Said the ones who possessed her were the dead ones, the ones they call the Past Livier.”
“Interesting,” I say in a bored voice.
“Danique, why would she want to know about our parents and what they believe? It’s retarded anyways.”
“Exactly,” I reply. “But you can say more if you want. Someone’s gotta talk or it’s not a conversation.”
I recognize the feel of the sticky feel of the air around me. It’s humid and hot. But at least there’s a light breeze. The balmy wind stirs the odor of the black pavement and cars drive by, causing small burst of air to rush at us and then dissipate gently.
Danique changes the subject and looks over at me with worry in her eyes. “So how’s your head? You doin’ ok?”
“Yep,” I reply, glancing at her. Chase is between us and she’s on his left.
“So what really happened about that? I could tell you were lying. You didn’t just bump your head,” Chase says bluntly.
“Fine. Sleepwalking. Coughed up blood, fell, hit my head on the counter in the bathroom, fell to the floor, woke up and it was dark instead of light. Now for crazy, was carried to your room…” I’m starting to get angry.
“So your dad carried you, right?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “Please change the subject.”
“Ok—“
Suddenly a forceful flash of battle, a strange battle, is thrown before my eyes. I jump.
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It scares Danique and Chase, who jump because I jump. As they turn to me, I try to speak to them, but my speech is cut short as if someone’s choking me, and my sight turns into tunnel vision and all that I see begins to fade, changing and taking on new shapes and new meanings….
I want to scream but have little time to, as my beloved princess, Karnisha, has been killed. There had been a group of soldiers, all who just stopped fighting upon the order and threat of the Akrie commander. They wanted me and had Karnisha held with a poisoned blade to her throat. To save her life, my commander asked me to go with them, but not to ever listen to them. They let her go when I gave in, but then they killed her and began to kill everyone else. Before I can even let out a cry of betrayal, something solid hits me over the head and everything fades.
I blink, seeing Chase and Danique leaning over me. My stomach is so tense that my head is perhaps two inches above the ground, and my eyes are wide and I’m hyperventilating as I stare up past them. I am lying upon the ground and feel the hot, rough surface against my skin. Again, everything fades just before I can relax….
I am drifting in memories of my past now, my twin, Riva, seeing him die before my very eyes. I run and Kardaer is trying to fight a soldier but I’m blocked in by fire, too. Father is dead. I’d tried to run toward the village but am now trapped unless I run toward Kardaer and the soldier…the soldier has arisen to the sky and thrown a blade of ice at Kardaer, wounding him. He cries, “Run…Aidenn go…Don’t let them kill you!”
I look up to see an Akrie soldier coming my way, and then down at my brother again. he has fallen lifeless and I no longer feel his presence. I am so in shock that I lose my senses. I see a flash of my trembling hands turning upright, palms-up as tears run down my cheeks. Blood covers my hands, and I see my brother’s wound, a deep wound across his stomach. Fear clings to me as I look up again. He’s close now, and he’s coming for me. A scream is lodged within my throat. I try to stand to back away in fear, but I stumble, falling backwards. I quickly scramble to my feet to run, slipping as I go, running toward Kardaer’s body to run away from Serva.
His face…his cold eyes and glare of hatred. He speaks, calling after me, “Where do you run little demon? Do you not have the courage to burn me?”
I stumble over something, my left foot having been caught. When I fall, I look quickly to see what made me fall. I begin to scream and cry. It’s my dead twin brother, Riva. His eyes are open and lifeless, and he is stiff and cold. His skin is frosted over and his face is of ashen colour. His lips have turned blue as is true of corpses, and there are dark shadows around his sunken eyes. Riva’s bloody face bores into me, his wide eyes ever staring. Part of my soul is dead. His part.
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I again struggle to my feet with his eyes still staring at me in my mind, penetrating me viciously, pleadingly…Lifelessly.
As I run, I feel that terrible cold behind me…and then, a moment later, there is a sharp pain in my back and I am knocked to the ground by both the force of the blow, and by the sudden receding of control of my own movements…
The blade in my back is so cold…I can’t move anymore and can hardly breathe, yet somehow I find the will to keep trying, my oldest brother’s words ringing mournfully and urgently in my ears. I try to claw my way away, the pain biting me more and more as the blade melts and leaves the wound open to bleed.
“Mommy!” I scream. “Mo’era…”
I fall in and out of darkness, seeing the soldiers turn to flee. Moments later, Pyrae soldiers come into camp, and I see their shocked faces. Next, soldiers are checking for anyone alive. There one is bending over me. He reaches to touch my arm to roll me onto my back, but it burns me, so I cry out softly, pulling my arm away weakly in pain. He looks down and sees the burn marks and grows alarmed, saying, “She’s Akrie!” as he draws his knife.
Another man kneels near him and leans over me and checks my eyes. Upon seeing the bright fiery red, he pulls away and turns to the other, “No. She’s an Ungifted. I’ve heard of them. They disgust me. They’re a disgrace to the name of the Pyrae…Leave her here to die. She isn’t worth a breath of life…”
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Then they fade and when I open my eyes again, they are gone. Most of the soldiers have left and there is only a couple of people near me. One is an old soldier, and there’s an old woman with him, who must be his wife. The old soldier doesn’t see me. As he starts to walk on, I utter a soft plea, “Please…Don’t leave me…”
The old soldier turns to face me and everything goes black.
I jerk awake, cold and shivering. Immediately I recognize me surroundings, my senses recovering, and immediately I remember the trick played upon my people in order to capture me. Why would they want me anyways? I am still in my armor, my Rojan helmet never having been removed. My body is numb and I am cold. All around me is darkness lit dimly by torches. The room is large and empty, and I can barely move; I am shackled with strong, weighty chains.
I am upon a low circular stone ring, about at its epicenter, and there are torches lit around this large alter. Because of the bar and chains, I know this is for prisoner placement. This is for those who go before a council and the people and the Elders for trial. It’s the Akrie equivalent for our raised Tieress. Usually punishments are administered to the chained criminal.
I look up and see a large rectangular stone table with perhaps seven cleverly decorated and hand-carved, heavy wooden chairs. The designs are abstract, and it is a dark seasoned wood. Each chair has a large oval carved for resting the back against, and the ovals are lined with a white material. They are sort of plain.
Farther back, upon a raised lever near the back of the room, perhaps only ten feet behind the other seats, are three thrones. Just as there are two torches lit on either side of the stone table, there are torches on either side of the outer thrones, but these torches are angled away from the thrones. The thrones are a little plainer than the chairs, but the middle one has armrests. There are white silk pillows upon the seat, and a soft, silky white material trailing over them form just beneath the back, laying over them and dangling about six inches off the edges of the seat of the chair. There are white tassels dangling from the edge of the material where the loose strings were bunched and tied tightly.
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Sitting upon this middle throne is the man I recognize as William Shaheen, the highest Akrie commander other than Matthias Khor, the archenemy of all Pyrae, and their worst nightmare. As their prince, Matthias Khor is the most feared. Shaheen is perhaps the second or third most feared. His genius with battle strategy combined with Matthias’s is ever evident in the battlefield. In only these last years, though, we have given the Akrie something new to fear: my soldiers. They are the lowest and least respected Pyrae wishing for respect, and they came to train under me, so I took them and taught them what I could…But for my curse, anyone who comes to respect me, or love or care about me ends up dying. I have always warned them not to, but all of them came to pity me, and so, just recently, almost all of them were wiped out…perhaps all of them. I haven’t yet heard…
Perhaps this is what Shaheen wants. He must want me to teach his men.
Shaheen is still in his battle armor, studying my sword carefully in his hands. Karnisha had given it to me. She is now dead because of my curse. She cared for me, the Ungifted Pyrae.
Upon seeing him, I am instantly enraged and lunge to run and attack him. But after only a couple of steps, I am suddenly jerked to a forceful halt and can go no farther, though I try…I am shackled, the chains holding me back and being his only protection and my only barrier. I grunt in anger and am otherwise silent as I try a moment more before finally giving up and seeing it as useless. I fall to the floor upon my knees and glare at him. His voice is bone chilling with a spark of ice in his eye as he speaks, “Ah…I see you’re awake.”
“His voice turns to mocking as he calmly speaks, his gaze never leaving me. “So you are the great Dardenza, the teacher of the damned dark warriors.” Then his voice holds a note of admiration. “You are rather well-known for your skill…Tell me now,” he leans forward, placing his elbows upon his knees and clasping his hands, “who taught you what you know?”
I simply shake my head, refusing to answer.
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Upon no reply, his left eyebrow lifts into a thoughtful, distasteful arch, highly annoyed at my refusal. “They say you have no teacher…Where are you from? What blood lines are you?”
“Ungifted Pyrae,” I whisper hoarsely, barely audibly.
He frowns, still a little annoyed, but appreciative of one answer at least.
I slowly pull my eyes from his, becoming even more detached and emotionless as my gaze falls upon the edge of the stone table, upon the bottom of the leg. He stands slowly, and he slowly begins to walk toward me, around the left side of the table.
Shaheen stops just before reaching me, still out of reach upon the dais, and he, being a little taller than me, speaks, staring down at me as he would a filthy dog, snarling in amusement, “I thought you’d be a little bigger actually.” Then he says, “They say you’re a monster. They say you’re a young boy or old man or woman, or even a demon itself. No one knows, but I know you’re just as mortal as we are. Remove your helmet and mask…I would like to see the demon I am speaking to, who is my prisoner. Some of the others, we removed theirs for them to see their faces after we surrounded them. But we knew they weren’t you because of their inferior skill. But with you, we know you're the one, no mistakes whatsoever. I'm not coming nearer, so remove your helmet and face veil."
Shivering, I hesitate and then stand, which rattles the heavy chains. A wave of dizziness hits me and I stumble forward and then catch my balance, raising my hand to my helmet-covered head. Whatever hit me punctured my helmet but only barely hit my head, though hard enough to have knocked me out. I don't heal as fast as I use to when I was a child, or when my wounds are deadly if they are wounds such as these.
He jumps back when I stumble, and has his hand on the dagger belted to his side at once. But I step back and he realizes I wasn't trying to attack him, that I was hit hard enough for it to still be affecting me. He lets his hands slip away from his dagger as I shake my head at his former ignorance and turn away from him. I seat myself at the end of this stone encirclement, facing him, and cross my legs and bow my head.
The room is so cold and I'm shivering, though it cannot be seen beneath this armor or beyond my face veil. I'm shivering even despite all the padding under the incompetent, easily damaged, metal plates.
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I reach with my plated, gloved hands and feel the bunched, falttened braid hooked upon ridges in my helmet. My hair, unlike all my trainees', is real, and the braid is one length, pulled up from the underside of my Rojan-styled helmet, where the braid gets slid over a spike and turns to double back down to a spike in the bottom; there are two spikes over my forehead and three spikes at the back side of the helmet, which hold my braid and yet serve as an extra weapon. the other spikes across my helmet in ridges are for weapon-only uses, especially for when I ram some enemy soldier in the head or head-butt them. I carefully take the braid from the spikes, keeping my head down, and I untie the end of hte black, ragged silk ribbon wound in the braid of my black hair, and I begin to unbraid it. he should expect me to, knowing I can use likely anything as a weapon.
I can almost feel his fascination as he exclaims thoughtfully, "Your hair is quite long. I didn't think it was real since your warrior's helmets are fashioned to look like that. Horse hair of course."
For the moment, I am staring directly down. He will not immediately see my face when I remove my helmet. I know he knows that he will see a young man with hate in his eyes and deep scars upon his face, and he knows he will see a possessed soul, a soul full of evil. I can feel his hatred nearly as clearly as my own. I do not want to show my face, though I know I have to.
I finish and pull the ribbon from my hair, letting it fall loosely. I then pull my helmet from my head, allowing my now loose black hair and golden bangs to fall don farther.
Before I look up, he tells me, “Remove all of your armor and throw it out of reach, anything you can use as a weapon, I want out of your reach. I want to be able to kill you easily, should I have the need, and I wouldn’t wan to be so unsuspecting. You may keep only your regular attire, though I’m sure you’ll probably try to do something with that as well.”
So I chunk what I have already removed hard enough that it lands at his feet, but I never look up, so he cannot see my face still. I begin to remove my armor next, and when I come to the blades hidden in my armor, I hesitate. I would need my sword to slice the chains or stake in two, but he laid that upon the edge of the table as he passed it on his way to me. I cannot kill him just yet. It’s not time to. So I slowly pull the blades form the bend in my knee, where they are stored cleverly against the calf-armor plates, and I remove those from my wrists and the crooks in my arms, and even the ones against my knuckles, which I’d had fastened in such a manner that they could slide down and stop and lock like finger-length claw blades. I drop each to the floor and slide them to him one at a time, using my foot, except I toss the last at him with my hand to make him jump; humorously, he does, half-expecting me to throw it and try to kill him instead. I feel his shock that I was still armed so well and in such a concealed manner, and his surprise I didn’t really try to harm him just now.
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“Damn,” he exclaims. I know he realizes there is some strange reason I have simply given up my blades and not attacked or even tried. “You are very strange,” he says. “You could’ve attacked me and killed me easily. I wouldn’t have truly expected it…Maybe wisdom plays through for you more than I thought, though; wouldn’t be too wise to kill me when you’re still chained—“
All through his talking, I leave only my metal wrist braces, as they are my mark of gender, being also that I was once a dancer, acrobatic, very highly skilled as a child; I was among the elite—before the others died because of my curse. I danced in a stranger manner than most. I could not touch fire or breathe smoke and I still cannot, which is why I wear a mask soaked in water or other fluid to be able to breath though it. I wear it to breathe through the thick smoke during battles. My people don’t need them like Rojans or any other people would, because smoke doesn’t bother them in the least; I finally remove my face veil and throw the black silk cloth across the floor to him.
I am shivering badly now. My bulky soldier attire is too large for me, and it conceals my gender well, but I remove it slowly, and my armor, and I cast it to him. Much smaller now, it is obvious without the armor or soldier’s attire, for all I have is my Palconian material outfit, skin-tight, powerful, special material made of dragon skin, that has a way with concealing weapons in such a way that could never be understood, and only powerful or special people can use it. Anyone else cannot render its capabilities to working. The black Palconian material is not heavy enough to block any cold, and I am shaking badly, shivering terribly—His voice cut off when I removed my armor and soldier attire; realization of the truth of what I am stinging him the moment I let him see the creature beneath the armor and mask of pretense and false intimidation. I am much smaller than him, whose shoulders are much broader than mine.
I hear a faint exhalation of astonishment and want of disbelief. Gently, he says, “A woman—I didn’t know…Please…” His voice breaks a moment and he tries again, even gentler as he steps closer now, clearly hating how he had had me treated and how he’d spoken to me, “Please look at me.”
Slowly my face turns up to his as I lift my head, shaking badly where I stand because of the cold. I speak quietly so that he can just hear my voice. For some reason my voice and eyes no longer hold anger or hatred. I speak to him when I meet his eyes as I see a strong hint of regret and concern wrought into his expression of surprise; his visage somehow causes me to feel worse, but I don’t look away as I say, “Now you have seen.”
I stare, not blinking, into his eyes, penetrating him with my overwhelming grief and sadness, and even weakly with my hatred and fears. He is obviously fighting some conflict to care that battles inside him, alternating between hate and worry and regret; he stares into my eyes, unable to speak in his shock and awe. I know he sees the blood and dirt smeared upon my face, and he stammers, managing to say, mostly a thought aloud, “Even Matthias would find himself unable to ignore such beauty—God, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon…He couldn’t close his eyes upon you as he has with so very many others…”
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He wavers lightly and his eyes wander to scan my body a moment, forcing me to greater unease and strengthening my pain and hatred, but he looks away a moment, a memory or thought returning of something, and he tells me quietly, meeting my pain-filled eyes again, “You’re so beautiful that you remind me of the strange woman Matthias is in love with. She’s not even Akrie. She’s Elokhai, ghost child, and she’s other bloods. I’ve never met her, but I can tell he’s in love with her the way he speaks of her and her beauty…He told me the first time he saw her, she tried to kill him—“
Waves of dizziness wash over me and I fall to my knees…That’s what I did to him in my dream, but it can’t possibly have been real. I’ve only seen him once for real, and that was when I killed his brother…I attacked him in my dream when I first saw him…It was an extremely difficult task to kill Matthias Khor’s brother, and I had been wounded in doing so. Luckily, though, the poison was already gone from his blade, killed his other victims. That day, as his brother breathed his last before me, having slipped to my blade and stumbled backward, falling and yet still trying to get up, that was when I heard a man’s scream of horror and rage. When I looked up, I could swear I fainted, but yet I remained standing frozen, against my own will and strength, my body awake but my mind fuzzy and unconscious the moment I laid eyes upon him. He had looked exactly as he had in my dream…He doesn’t know me and he’s never seen me in his life, so it can’t be possible.
When I look up, it’s with hatred. “Does it honestly surprise you that I’m a woman, or beautiful? I spit upon my beauty. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve the name Pyrae, either, because I can’t touch fire. I’m a fucking Ungifted, ok? Does that explain everything—is that enough?!” My sadness and grief and shame are evident in my voice again, and I am only barely able to cling to the reserve I was always expected to try to hold, to not shed a tear and always seemingly stand strong. And I know that he knows I’m still dangerous.
I clench my fists, shaking my head angrily, and the cold is getting worse. “How about I just tell you everything? You would like that, wouldn’t you?!” Before he can reply or speak a word, I continue, brushing the hair form my face. “I’m cursed. I have been since Serva. I was the only one who survived, and I was left to die by Pyrae soldiers looking for survivors—I was left just because I was an Ungifted. I almost bled to death, but an old couple saved me. Serva didn’t even have anything to do with the war, and it was destroyed. Innocent people were killed…People that care about me die because of my curse, and they always have and always will. I’m sure you have to have heard of the cursed soldier; every Pyrae knows of me, and so my people hate me and send me to the front lines to die—they’ve tried to make me die there since I was thirteen, but I haven’t. I heal like the Rojans, so they hate me, but I shall never betray them. There are those who have cared, and I fight for them, but I promise you, I swear I’ll kill you and Khor and escape even if my people kill me for the pretended betrayal. I didn’t kill that soldier, either; I only knocked him unconscious. I simply wished to save Karnisha, but you broke your word, and you’ll pay for it…”
Blood of Eden Chapters
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