The one thing Silverthorn hadn't been looking for that day at Sha'tris
Thy'sn was another relationship. Angry and hurting, her soul still raw
from being torn from Y'Roden's as their bond was severed, her heart
still bleeding from the way in which he had chosen to divorce her
before taking B'Rodyn's place in the crystal casket, the raven-haired
elf had never been more convinced of the truth of the saying 'Khaless
nau uss mzild taga dosstan... Trust no one more than yourself.' Looking
for an escape, a place where, for a few hours at least, she might be
free of the Palace, she came to the Pit, and it was there that she ran
into Daemonorel Ashev.
Words can be a weapon as sharp as any blade, but sometimes the only
time you feel alive is when it hurts. Yet beneath the sharp comments
and the slash of metal, as blood dripped onto the arena sands, there
was a sense of knowing. Eyes saw too clearly through the walls, kindred
spirits recognising one another despite it all.
Dreams taunt, teasing the senses and tricking the mind, a
Goddess branding one of her Chosen with a mark of faith. Desire clashes
with caution, both burnt and scarred by their pasts. Wary and
untrusting, neither is certain about taking the next step. Sometimes
though, the most important thing can be how much you want something...
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