?I don’t know why that word affects me so much. It’s not like it’s true.
?But it could be.
?But it’s not.
?Yet.
?And I want to scream.
?Tell me his name, I whisper to that voice. To the first blood witch ever created.Tell me his name and let me end all of it right now.
?I could do it too. I could destroy the Willow of Lore sealing the veil that traps the primordials above. I could kill all those gods who went against Sanivin and the Forgotten God of Blood Moons. I could rip out my soul and let my fated be free.
?What was his name?
?What was yours?
?I grit my teeth as I bow my head andrage. Fury and wrath burning so hot within as my blue flames deepen in color and consume.
?The heat billows and nearly half of the field now is melted and seared. There is no end to it. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe aura can be infinite.
?TELL ME HIS NAME!
?I scream.
?The earth echoes it. Thunder responds to it.
?My blood sings.
?An eternity passes in only a couple seconds, and then I drop my hands and collapse to my knees. A deafening silence is all that greets me as I turn deadened eyes upwards.
?“I promise,” I whisper into the ether. To the gods above and the spirits roaming. “I’m going to slaughter you all.”
?That whispering voice tuts and her presence becomes known around me. The first blood witch who’s clinging to these lands. The very first forgotten god.
?That’show her daughter, the first vampyr, was able to birth a primordial and turn her daughter immortal. They already had primordial blood within them.
?Mavyn.
?“Why can’t I remember his name?” I whisper. Syngenia is silent around me. “He never deserved this. It was Sanivin’s fault. She was supposed to be forgotten. She is meant to benothing.”
?I hate her.
?The vampire I share a name and face with. I hate her so much. I hate her with every fiber of my being.
?“Mavyn.”
?Flurries begin falling. The first one to touch the ground hisses on the scorched earth.
?It’s all her fault. The reason I’m fated and cursed. I wish I could kill her.
?“Mavyn.”
?Life threads around me but it’s tinged with smoke. Then familiar red eyes appear above me and I furrow my brows.
?“We’ve been calling you,” he says gently. My red devil – I think. “Can you stand up?”
?“Why does your scent smell like smoke?”
