She begged me to do this. To burn a future burn a past and run my soul under a knife dragged by my own hand.
To pay it all. Like selling my soul to gain strange and dark powers just to throw a fireball at an ant.
Because there isn’t a choice. Yet there are.
But all choices have different tolls at different points on the road.
The enemy is my own kith and kin undermining my authority and power without any bearing of faith to the Lord I serve.
Warring despicable actions with the grim unyielding fire of my heretical abilities moulded and restricted by divine guidance.
I’ve paid the high price burning dreams, severing ties, months of isolation, butchering the soul, poisoning the mind and modifying the body.
Even higher is the collective sum levied on those who had to watch as I did it all. And none more so that she who summoned me to rise to this and see me pay with the very thing we’re fighting for.
Now the trouble comes.
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