In a world where love transcends even divine barriers, Enaeya, a beloved young man, unknowingly harbors a devastating potential that threatens worldly destruction. Despite the forewarnings of the Oracle, he challenges the very fabric of fate, naviga...
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Damian
I awoke with a jolt and in a haze of discomfort. A dull ache reverberated through my body, threading tightness around my muscles and bones, making every attempt to move feel like an act of defiance. I squinted against the dim light filtering through what I could only guess were the remnants of a once-magnificent window. The air was thick with an amalgamation of scents: medicinal herbs, earthy undertones, and a pervasive sweetness of incense that cloaked the room like a thick veil.
Gingerly, I shifted my position, catching a glimpse of my surroundings. The walls were crowded with jars, their glass surfaces crammed with peculiar animal parts and dried herbs, as if a witch's hoard had been thrown together in a mad frenzy. My heart raced in my chest, thrumming against the strangeness of this place. "Where am I?" I thought, but the words clung to the walls of my throat, heavy and unspoken.
At that moment, the door creaked open, and an old woman appeared. She had wild, frizzled hair cascading around her face, framing her features like a cloud of stormy weather. Her eyes bore into me with a fury that could have ignited a flame. "Ah, you're awake! Good. Now shut up and don't move." Her voice was sharp, a blade forged from years of irritation and wisdom.
I blinked, half-annoyed, half-amused at her brusqueness. Who was this woman, and why was I in her... witch's lair? Unable to hold my tongue, I opened my mouth, only to be silenced once more by her arriving scowl.
"Seriously, shut it. You've been through a lot," she continued, waving a hand dismissively, as if conjuring my inquiries into thin air.
Taken aback, I opened my mouth again, feeling the words bubbling forth. "Who are you-"
"Shut! Up!" she barked, her voice echoing off the walls. It seriously irritated me, and I felt the urge to respond, to demand answers, but there was something about the intensity radiating from her that warned against further inquiry.
Before I could wrestle with the consequences of my own curiosity, a younger figure bounded into the room, with messy brown hair and wide, darting brown eyes that surveyed the space as if he were constantly on the brink of panic. When he saw me awake, relief washed over his features. "Oh! You're awake! I'm Misha! That's my master, Eunora! How do you feel?" His voice was a frantic melody against the old woman's tempest, like he's nervously running from something.
"Uhh, I'm okay but..." I began, and suddenly, a wave of frustration washed over me. "Confused. Where in hell am I?"
But before I could say more, the old woman, Eunora, intervened, her impatience like a tempest unleashed as she gave Misha a glare. "Scullion boy! You're not here to chatter! The man needs to stay silent, lest I smack a curse on both of you!"
