Marienne's life was completely undone when her village went up in flames. Badly burned and her eyesight lost, she awakes in a strange place, with no knowledge of how she arrived there. Her savior was the enigmatic and alluring Victor, the Lord of Az...
Author's Note: And here begins the process I promised long ago I would undertake! I'm finally coming back and editing Eyes of Azyron! There's so much I loved about writing this story, but there was so much room for growth in it that I quite simply couldn't resist the temptation to help it grow further into the story I know it's meant to be.
For those that have been following along on this journey the entire way with me, thank you. Your comments and support have been the thing that's encouraged me to keep writing and keep sharing this entire time. Thank you for giving me the space to lovingly craft this story, whether you commented and voted on each and every chapter, or were one of the silent readers allowing my story to hold space in their minds.
And for those of you that are new here, Welcome! I'll make a note for y'all each time I take a break in between bouts of editing so that you know why there may be continuity errors and whatnot on unfinished chapters! Don't be afraid to comment and point out those errors either! All criticism is welcome here.
Now, without further ado, I present to you Marienne's story. I hope you grow to love her as much as I have. <3
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My consciousness did not come back to me all at once, but rather in fitful and sudden bouts. My first moments were misery and torment, filled with an aching, throbbing, fiery pain through my entire body. Was this Hell's divine punishment for my sins? My awareness flickered, and I found myself fading again, but instead of sleep or death, I was lost in memory.
I didn't understand what exactly went wrong. We weren't deep into a summer drought, and there had been rain just days before. The grass in the village square was green and growing. I had just sent a patient of mine on her way with the medicine she required, and was cleaning up my own storeroom when the acrid smell of burning thatch and pitch reached my nose. I remembered bolting for the front door, my only thought not to save myself, but the only home I had ever known. Had I made it off the front porch, I would have known it was too far gone to save. Then, the collapse of the porch roof wrapped me in suffocating and inflamed roof material, scorching me deeper than I'd ever been burned before. I knew, even in my animal panic, that I was dying, and my life's work had reached its end.
