Golden Box Book Publishing One Picture: Thousands of Words | Page 41

“Are you?” I taunted him, “See I knew of only one thing that
would have such a detrimental effect on my Affinity. Knew of only
one race to wield it with such precision too. The Elvern!”
I shook my head. “Soon, the sounds of madness and mayhem
siphoned through from the corridor beyond. The dust was settling.
Again and again I tried to counteract the pressure on me but it was
too great for me to fight. How had the Elvern managed to get past
our outer defences? And why now? What did they want? To end us
all?
“Father always said that was their goal. Since childhood I’d
learned to fear and hate the Elvern almost as much as the Venzoians.
Father would always warn us that you arrogant varlets were slippery
and heartless: that due to your longevity, you played the ‘long game’
so very well in our insane war. Of all the races, he said, you were the
ones to watch; to stay ahead of. And we had done. Or at least we’d
held out own: created balance. Until that day…”
A tear broke free and skated rapidly down my cheek. I didn’t care.
“I was their Princess and yet I was little better than an insect. I was
on the floor, the wide flagstone under my hands now cracked by the
force of the rogue impacts. My lungs were bruised, and I could barely
breathe. But I could watch: the suffering created; the chaos and
death! I heard steel on steel; heard the cries of the dying and injured;
felt the oppressive magic Pursuations of 7th Tier Weavers tightening
in all around me. Then your brother arrived…
“Aieh-ran fei Etruia come-silvarnir!”
I swallowed the memory of the fear that had clutched my heart
when I’d heard that rich voice.
“They were looking for me;-” I accused, “-my residual magic
clearly guiding them like a beacon, but I’d rather die than be taken!”