Hemshire was a tranquil village, a hidden one to be specific. With the tall jungle trees obscuring the village walls, only the roofs of houses could be seen. Hemshire was never involved with any war, never any in history. Despite the suffering living in Hemshire, people were grateful of finding the place, not requiring to move to another village often.
Magicians would drop by the village frequently to take quests that held risks, and receive their rewards upon completion, which was basically the people's taxes they paid for every week. Therefore, the people grew a strong hatred against these magicians, they despised them. It was unfair, growing crops in your farm, and only gaining 5 copper pieces as a reward everyday.
However, words were spoken too soon. The next thing you know, Hemshire was suddenly invaded by a group of evil magicians, their black magic hypnotizing soldiers, citizens and even the King, causing destruction and mayhem. The land that was once so peaceful was now in misery with corpses and blood stains all over the village. It was a horrid nightmare indeed.
The father of 10 year old Clarissa died during the war, little survived, and she was lucky to be one of them. She was still unsure if her mother was still alive. She ran away, far away into the woods. She is now determined to find out who these people are and what they have against the people of Hemshire, also searching for her mother along the way. During the journey, she meets this certain someone and discovers a fact about her that is too hard to accept. Will she solve the puzzle, or will it be too late to defeat them?
The witches of Moraveth are nothing but ghosts-hunted, slaughtered, and forgotten. The Kingdom of Ravaryn thrives on our suffering, bleeding us dry to fuel their power.
I was sent to stop them.
Disguised as a noblewoman, I slip into the royal court with a single purpose: get close to the king, dismantle his empire from within, and make them all pay in blood. I have spent years sharpening my hatred into a weapon, and I will not fail.
But then there's him.
General Tristan Vale. The King's Butcher. The man who led the charge against my people, who burned my homeland and stained his hands with the blood of my kind. He is ruthless. Unyielding. A legend built on the bones of witches.
And now he is my greatest obstacle.
He watches me too closely, shadows my every step, as if he knows I don't belong. He is meant to be my enemy-my executioner, if he ever discovers the truth.
But the longer I stand in his fire, the more I begin to see the cracks beneath his armor. The war-haunted man beneath the legend. And the way his touch-his forbidden, maddening touch-sets something inside me aflame.
I came here to destroy the kingdom.
So why does its deadliest weapon make me want to burn?