The trail of my dress ran far behind me, the soft silk and lace dress fitted perfectly to my figure. A crown of black stygian iron rest upon my styled hair. I didn't know what to expect, I was eighteen years old this day, and about to receive the Morrigans last gift. I paced up and down the deserted hallway anxious. My fingers wrapped tightly around the gold Burmoorian coin around my neck. The cool metal was calming my nerves. I sensed footsteps coming down the hallway. I spun, Onysious, dressed in the full armor of a soldier of Morrigan. He smiled, walking towards me. He opened up his arms pulling me into a hug, my arms wrapped around his neck; I buried my face into the crook of his neck.
"It's time," he said releasing me from the hug. I gave a small nervous smile and took his arm as he led me to the throne room.
It was dusk; the stars peeked through the dark blue sky. The candles in the room were bright, the dark colours of the soldiers blended with the shadow of the room. Morrigan sat in her usual spot upon the tall throne. Her legs crossed over one another, a dark crown placed upon her head. Her pale face smiled at me. Onysious parted from my side to join his brethren in the shadows. I kept moving towards my mother. As I got to her feet I kneeled onto one knee. She stood, regal, proud, high and mighty above me. Her gleaming, dark eyes stared down at my figure.
"My daughter, Onyxia is at the rightful age of becoming a woman. Her power exceeds many within this room, and her bravery is unchallenged. This is her final gifting, her final power. Onyxia, with my power over life and death, I gift you with youth, I gift you." I looked up towards my mother as her hand lowered to the top of my head. "With immortality."
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Morrigan's Assassin
FantasyBeing the daughter of a goddess of death is tough enough, but doubling as her own personal assassin is even worse. When Onyxia - the daughter of a goddess of death - attempts to escape an arranged marriage with a man she does not love, she flees fro...
