(Completed)
Two assassins were set to kill a girl. No questions asked. Just kill her and claim their prize. That was their mission. Except one of them was not supposed to visit Volney, the land of the dead and the other fall in love with a girl and...
Long wait. I actually cannot believe that I wrote something! I was about to fall into writer's block, but I somehow managed to whip something. Here onwards, my updates will be erratic. My school is starting and I want (should) concentrate on that. I will try to finish this book within this year, but I may not be sure. Anyway, I will continue it in the end. Enjoy:)
Camp
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The clouds curled and thrashed against the sky as the thunder ripped out followed by a crazed smile. Sudden flashes of light reflected within the clouds and it scared the birds even more. But never a single drop of rain found its way down. Perhaps that was why there was less vegetation here.
She slumped her shoulders against the cushions she was seated in. The sweet scent of honey filled the tent. The black fabric despite being coated with beeswax fluttered with the wind. The heaviness did not anchor it down.
"Sleep, Cahira," Estelle said. "I will wake you when someone calls for you."
Without control over her body, her head hit the edge of the table she was sitting next. "I just cannot sleep. Those images keep repeating in my mind."
She could not respond to the pain her brain registered. Her back head was throbbing worse than her aching forehead. After two weeks of little to no sleep, her eyes burned whenever she tried to sleep. It was either sleep for two days or no sleep at all. The hot brewed coffee was her newfound companion.
Estelle's eyes softened. "Even I cannot get those images away. But you need to rest. Rest is very important."
She lifted her head and traced the place where she had hit herself. "But I feel like wasting time whenever I rest!"
Her protector sat next to her. She pressed Cahira's forehead. "Look, it's all red now," she muttered.
She swatted Estelle's hand. "I don't care."
"I will tell you a story," Estelle said, her voice strong that did not give her room to protest. "There was once two kingdoms. Both mighty kings."
"Why should it always be kings?" she mumbled.
"Fine," Estelle glared. "One king and a queen. They were to meet in a war. The queen's men fought hard with blunt weapons and they sharpened it only when required. But the king's men kept sharpening their blades every day. The king's spy told him that the queen's men rarely sharpened their weapons. The king laughed at it and was sure that he was going to win."
"Of course he will win." Cahira scrunched her nose. The story was not making any sense.
"No, you are wrong there," she said, patting her hand. "The king's men's weapons snapped the when the war began. Sharpening the blades every day, the blades could take the stress only for so long. They were weak and soft as an old twig. They broke the second their weapon touched the queen's men's weapon. Her men's weapons were sturdy and strong. The victory was the queen's."
