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𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡, 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖𝟎𝟐
She was known as a Heartrender. Someone with the ability to slow the healing process. One who can kill with a simple touch, even a glance.
Juniper was the last of her kind. She was sought out by many, most wishing to have control of her power.
Her entire life was spent running. Going from ship to ship, country to country. She watched as kingdoms rose and fell. As waters rose and lands were discovered.
Juniper was born in the late 1700s in what was known as Ravka, just south-east of Fjerda. Her mother had died in childbirth and her father died from smallpox just a few mere years later.
Alone, Juniper had to learn to fend for herself. She taught herself magic from the old grimoires her mother once owned.
She knew from a young age, or rather since the minute her father died, what she was. He had kept it from her to keep her safe, but in his last moments, he knew it was safest for her to know.
At sixteen years old, she had become one of the most skilled 'witches' in the old and new world. She made a cover for herself, she used a name she had found on an old peice of machinery and created a spell to hide her Grisha powers from the population.
Still, some found her. You can't hide forever.
All of those who did died within minutes, seconds even. She would stare into their eyes as their hearts slowly stopped, organs ripping themselves apart from the inside out, as she stood over them.
The survivors, if there were any, would run. They would tell the nightmare that was Juniper Zenik to the townspeople, warn them of the horrors that were the last Grisha standing.
— — —
Cobblestone lined the dimly lit roads as rain poured down heavily. The sounds of water dropping into the unfilled potholes filled Juniper's ears as she walked, coat held tightly to her chest, towards a local bar.
It was late, the clock striking ten only moments before, as she approached the warmly lit bar.
She began to hear the men loudly singing old melodies while they danced drunkenly with women. The sounds of their loud footsteps earned an amused grin from the Grisha as she entered the warm tavern.
The bell above her rang quietly, no one hearing it due to the loud singing of the drunken men. She slid her ruffled jacket and hung it on one of the hat stands.
Water dripped from the hems of its sleeves onto the wooden floor as she walked to the overcrowded bar.
Her crystal blue eyes glanced around the tavern. It was lit with candles and lanterns that hung from both the walls and the ceiling.
