Chapter II

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(the beginning 4th draft)
   Nature; one of the gods' creations. It can either be beauty or grotesque. The lands, the waters, the heavens—they are beauty of nature.
  Creations of the gods.
  Wilted flowers, monsters, the dark, and death are contrary to beauty 
itself and are Hasfor's magic.

  The ability to turn nature to wither and then to ash just with the touch of his bare skin, he deemed it as curse.
He frowned with disappointment—but not surprised—when the rose blackened on his fingers.
  He wore his gloves back on and continued on his travel to his homeland, bearing the weight of his burden.

  Living things are part of nature too—
 
  Something rustled in the leaves.
  Hasfor pulled out his sword from the sheath and approached the bush, his steps were slow and wary. He assumed a tristthel—a beast of grotesque created by the gods—was going to attack. Those creatures were common in the forest and hunted anything that stepped on their territory, thirsty for flesh and blood.

  Something plunged on his chest, pinning him on the ground and shouting in a language that was not his yet he knew, "Iste jel s'nai!" I caught the witch!

  Slavers.

  Hasfor pushed the man off his chest in swift movement as he felt adrenaline rushing through his blood and drew his sword, slashing through the man's skin.
  He let out a cry, falling to his knees.
"Erai!"
 

 
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(the beginning 3rd draft. might include it on chapter 2 as well. chapter 1 is now the prologue)

  Roses, ink, decay, ash, crimson skies, blood, war, people—
  People. A woman in flawless brown skin that matched her jewelries of gold appeared before Hasfor's eyes.
  She spoke with such shaking and breathtaking tones that nearly rolled across the void, calling the traveller's name, "Hasfor L'lhaj."
  Long white hair flew freely behind her back, its ends nearly touched the floor. The goddess' once stern eyes were now widened with terror and looked pleadingly to the man who is a mere commoner.

  Goddess Avcia. A goddess. He couldn't believe his eyes. Why would a holy come to him? Maybe Father had been right, he had doubted his words before, "Our blood is sacred. We are akin to the gods. We are children of our Creators."
  "All people are children of Creators," Hasfor had argued.
  "No, my son. We are offsprings of Creators and they are creations of Creators," he'd said. His father had reached for his hand and placed a gem on his palm. It'd shun with magic and he'd felt it. He hadn't been surprised. "Keep it. This gem was once the god's—"
  " 'Before it was yours'," he had laughed. He'd thought his father had gone mad and ought to see to a medic. "Your words are lies. You ridicule me, Father."
 
(that flashback was so cringey)

  Now, he bowed down and awaited the goddess' following words. He knew it was disrespect to speak without a Holy's order to.
  "Save us," she managed to say as the darkness of the void crept up to her feet and then to her torso, slowly consuming her. He didn't know what it was. "Save them!"
  She disappeared. The void shook vigoursly. The floor slowly cracked open and he fell.

  He fell into nothingness.

(this one is trash)

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(the beginning 1st draft)

  Sun was almost setting. Monsters soon will awaken in dark when anew moon arise into the evening skies and light shall vanish thence. It was time to hide.
  He entered the hollow of the big tree and

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⏰ Last updated: May 30, 2022 ⏰

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