How can she reap hope on a land where despair plants seeds of agony and sufferings?
Whose destiny is written with the ink of misery, how can she rinse the stains with mirth?
How can she put on the cloak of patience when life strips her out of it eve...
Anagh fetched Kairavi's sword that was sprawled on the ground, splattered with mud.
"You are going to join him pretty soon. Don't be sad." He cooed as she whimpered with pain. The rest of the cult began dancing around her in a circle, chanting praises for their lord.
The voices were deafening. It clouded her mind to dizziness; the pain overpowering her body. The more she listened to them, the worse it got.
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"QUIET!" The chieftain's command boomed in the surroundings. They immediately gave up their act and bowed heads in submission.
The silence was so relieving. Kairavi's eyes rolled into the back of her head as it torpefied her entire existence. For a moment, she let herself be defeated, wished herself not exactly annihilation but into a temporary absence, into being nowhere and no one just for a little while. But with her enemy's presence, she couldn't lose herself to nothingness so easily.
A little part of her asked her to keep her eyes open; be aware of their every motive. And she obliged.
Chandraja yelped, rolling to her side hastily as she saw Anagh attempting to impale her face with her sword.
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The suddenness of her response sent painful jolts throughout her weak frame. He let out a soft, lethal laugh that raked claws down her temper.
"Take your sword, weasel. You might need it." The weapon was lodged deep into the ground.
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