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Alora is known as The Twiceborn, cast adrift from her long-dead clan and feared by townsfolk around the countryside for the dark power she commands. Yet some, through desperation,will pay for her services.In return,they get exactly what they pay for. Alora is tormented by her legacy and is forced to confront it head on when she meets Islinn, her exact opposite in the ongoing struggle between good and evil.In a harsh world of slavery and superstition, Alora comes to realize, through her association with Islinn, that there is no true evil in the world, only good tortured by need. View table of contents...


Submitted:Jul 12, 2013    Reads: 50    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   


This is a really short chapter,sorry guys. I needed something to complete this section before I could move into another part of the story.--Wyld

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Islinn took note of Alora's stiff posture as she rode ahead of her down the trade road. What she had just done was slowly settling down on top of her piece by piece yet it couldn't quite take the place of losing something she felt was essential to her very existence. She listlessly patted the little stag.

She had never felt so totally…without. She had circled warily around her father's madness and had stood back and watched her mother wrapped in a fierce love for him and instinctively knew there wasn't enough left over for her.

She had lay beneath Behrin until he'd finally ridden all the fight out of her. And she'd served JoHan and knew that his love wasn't for her but was for what she offered in the name of Brede. And in spite of all of this, she had never felt alone. Because she'd believed.

She'd sweated and bled her belief over too many towns to count and now she had simply just stepped away. Years had gone by in a flash and she couldn't grasp how she'd gone from everything to nothing in what was,to her, only seconds. She tilted her face back, eyes closed, and welcomed the heat of the sun on her face as it flashed through a break in the trees.

What if the Twiceborn had decided to kill her when she'd slapped her? She could have, very easily. Islinn didn't care about the actual death. She'd been too close to death too many times to fear the actual dying. What she wondered about was…the after.

What would happen to her soul? She imagined that it would be in the same state as the moon, it would rise at dusk, to simply float un-tethered across the sky. Sometimes fully there and sometimes only a part. Yet always unharnessed and always alone. Brede's love had given her the strength to survive so many things and her belief had given her the courage to face it all but now she had only herself and she knew it wasn't enough.





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