Hestia de Aretuza used to be a mage like all the others. Abandoned in Aretuza, tales tell that she was covered in fire, unharmed, untouched, with red bright eyes like a beast.
It didn't take long for the others to notice there was something special...
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"Revenge is not the answer. Rage is not the feeling that lingers in your heart, if you keep going like this, you'll turn not only your enemies into ash, but whoever's in the way"
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Blood. Old blood. Fresh blood. Under the fingernails, on the strands of the oily hair, on the skin, dripping, drop to drop, to the ground. The taste of metal on the side of her cheek, after biting it accidentally. Tired eyes of sleepless nights, tired lungs from running for days, empty, irritated stomach from eating so little and so poorly, thinner legs and arms, blurred thoughts and fuzzy memories of an exhausted mind. Her body covered in a dress she stole two towns ago, not a single soul kind enough to offer a plate of food, a bath, cover from the snow. The cloak with a hood, in a shade of emerald, stolen right before running away from her captivity, trying to hide her eyes behind the fabric, trying to hide what people thought belonged to a mutant or worse, a monster. Taking bath in rivers and hunting dinner was Hestia's life for over 2 months, too afraid to join any village, with no company whatsoever.
It was a cloudy day when Hestia entered the dense forest again, intrigued by the sight of a beautiful blonde woman, with curly hair and muddy boots, running through the fields of cotton. She didn't know why she was following the lady, but Hestia felt the urge to approximate to the situation that seemed to be unfolding badly, as other 5 men, in healthy, big horses tried to catch up the fleeing woman. Hestia ran as fast as she could, her feet hurt and her legs were sore for walking for months, but still, that urge grew stronger in her chest, as she entered the woods, searching for any sight of the woman. Finally she saw the gang of bandits catching up to the blonde lady, as an arrow passed through her horse's leg, making it trip and her fall to the ground. The men surrounded her, screaming words she could not understand, they seemed angry about something, but Hestia was no mind reader.
