In the far land of Asxairo, off the distant ruins of the Rovien Sea lives a damnation to the kingdoms. She is something beyond the great bounds of the ancestors and the Gods. She is an unstoppable force and she has a mission to complete.
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The desert was barred and quiet, the first rays of a new day peaking their way on the horizon. Waves crashing on the shores broke through the silent barrier, the sound of lizards and snakes hissing past the scalding sand.
A black cloak dragged against the floors of the desert, followed by a pair of black boots scuffing their way past the boulders and sculptures. The creatures that bestowed their eyes on her looked away, scurrying back to their little habitats.
The sky seemed to rumble above her, voicing their fear as they seemed peered down at the girl. Even the gods above the heavens and the creatures scrambling across the jagged desert floors knew not to intersect paths with the greatest Mind Siphon and assassin known to Asxairo.
Onyx Ashrevion.
A warm, humid breeze brushed past the rugged siphon, strands of her brown hair blowing past her blood-splattered face as she wobbled her way toward the high dunes.
There was blood on her skin, smeared after a long night's rest in the desert sun and the irritating feeling of sand sliding down the leg of her pants was unbearable. The golden sword was strapped to her hips, the blade hidden under the leather holder.
The sword, one said to be crafted by the strongest leaders of a growing empire, now rested in her deadly grip, sins, and lives intertwined around the crafted blade of the glinting sword.
Letting a sigh escape her lips, Onyx's hands rested upon the golden head of the sword, her feet carrying her as far as the highest dune would take her. Her legs were throbbing and weak as she sank to her feet.
The sand was rising, quickly going up to her knees as she maneuvered her way down the thick path, her black boots kicking the hot sand from the soles of her feet.
A brass gate met her eyes, chained together by a gold lock to keep intruders out. Kicking the sand off her feet, Onyx carefully walked towards the gate, her footsteps as quiet as a whisper.
As soon as her presence was sensed near the gate, the magic running in her blood stopped, momentarily freezing her in place. Another humid breeze grazed past her hot skin, the brass gate groaning as it unwillingly opened.
The golden lock unraveled, allowing Onyx to slip silently through the gate and down the cobblestone path, the first peak of a man-made hut meeting her eyes. A soft aroma met her nose, the wool of her sweater dropping from her shoulders.
The large ground Onyx walked on belonged to Rheynoak's Descendants, a tribe that housed beings with special powers like her. People of all species were welcomed, trained, and provided protection by the one and only Rheynoak, the tribe's leader.
Her soft footsteps echoed among the large grounds, her cloak dragging against the jagged surface. The others were probably asleep, enjoying the last few dangling minutes of the night the early sun rays had to offer.
Hugging her cloak close to her chilly skin, the assassin made her way towards the hut that was built for warmth, protection, and a jagged blade to sharpen her sword. A spicy aroma filled the air, a warm cloud of steam rising from the chimney that sat on top of the hut.
