I, psycho.

Chapter Thirty

My lovely readers here's your long overdue back-to-back update. Thank you for your votes and comments, I truly appreciate them.

Enjoy.

P.s This chapter is a build up to one of the biggest confrontations in this book 😉

-With love 💞
       Me.

As I toured the Castle Ōthranto, the biggest, most powerful Maine housing in the world which spanned across a vast mass of land as big as an island -infact, the city itself was named after the castle and was called Ōthranto, I marveled as the display of books placed on seemingly harmless pedestals.

But I knew, the whole city knew that even attempting to near the pedestals would reap repercussions that would make dying seem enjoyable.

After all, the Maine's were know for Order which was birthed from chaos.

As I neared the central hall, I came across the statue of goddess Nwälita, well, encountered was more the word since the statue was as tall as the building itself, as large as a hall and was floating.

The wonders of magic.

Our patron fae goddess Nwälita was sculpted as a beautiful woman with long, lush hair that flowed down her back and nine arms protruding from side. On her face was a calm smile and her hands were placed in front of her.

Her overall presence radiated order and yet her eyes had a strange...gloss, like her mind, like mine, was not all there, and her primary pair of hands placed in front of her were clawed and fisted with sculpted blood flowing down her cloak like she was on the very edge of doing non-orderly things.

Nwälita stood for order, properness, disorder, delusion, anguish and most importantly, pain. She was contradiction itself. It was why notwithstanding all the mischief that imps represented they never really could do crazy like maguses.

You could take a magically deranged imp to a mental hospital, a deranged magus was to be chained, imprisoned and put down.

Underneath the statue, words that read thus were scribed:

"Before the earth, before the waters,

Before the heavens, before the existence of nature,

There was nothingness that allowed for nothing,

Savageness so great, it could not be contained,

It had no name, it existed and yet it did not,

It had no breath and yet it lived--"

That was where it stopped, like the rest had been scratched away, never to be known.

Some people called Nwälita the mad sovereign, some called her the reaper of war, I too had a name for, how could I not, with how close she was with me. We practically shared the same body, I thought mockingly.

I called her strife, I called her anguish, I called her pain. That was all she was to me. The one who kept me together, only to break me apart. My creator and my utter destruction.

The power over dreams, nightmares, the mind and all the imagined was a power gifted to the maguses by the feas we were contracted with. There was no better way to explain it than to say we took mind games to a whole new level.

The trouble was one as old as time, as old Greece says:

καθώς κοιτάς την άβυσσο, η άβυσσος κοιτάζει επίσης μέσα σου.