⚜️𝖂𝖞𝖗𝖉𝖆

                                    

                                          
Strong gusts of wind are blowing, making the fallen leaves dance. A strong, invisible force pushes on the groaning trees. An ominous blue moon hides behind heavy clouds, creating a gloomy and dismal ambiance in the forest. As the storm whispers amongst the old trees, the creatures hide, secure, and warm in their nests, avoiding the harsh cold. There rests an ominous silence in the dark forest. On the other hand, if you listen closely enough in the southeastern part of the forest, you may make out frantic cries for help and compassion. It is silent except for a few desperate shouts for aid and mercy that ring through the naked brambles. 
A small camp lurks at the far southern border of the forest, hidden between thick oak trees. A warm fire crackles in a small dug pit between the tents that were rapidly erected. His orange flames cast dark shadows on the white-orange tents. 
A pair of guards patrols the areas between the stretched ropes. A wailing, tortured cry echoes from the small ruby-colored tent nestled beneath the shade of a leafless willow. The soldiers gathered around the fire chuckle as the dying cry reached their ears.  
A
 large, white tent stands in the center of the camp. Near the doorway, two sturdy soldiers stand watchfully over everyone who ventures inside.  Their spears and black armor are decorated with dry bloodstains. Wooden beads ornament their long pointy beards. 
Inside the big tent, six poles stand in equal positions. Every pole shows significant scratches and ancient blood trails—the remains of those who died long ago. Unfortunate souls who were tortured for reasons they didn't know. Young women accused of witchcraft for reasons unimaginable. Similar to those long-forgotten souls, three young women are bound and awaiting their fate. 
A bundle of ropes dangles around the pole on the left, fresh blood dripping from its fibers onto the dry grass. The bald soldier's gaze shifts to the wooden beam on his right. A young woman locks her mesmerizing stare into his crystal blue eyes while sweat drips from his forehead.
The lady's triangle figure is tightly bound against the post. Her almond-shaped eyes have a brilliant magenta-pink color. The dim lighting makes them sparkle. Alluring black ink, carefully applied around her eyes, adds depth and fascination to her gaze. In her nasal bone shines a small silver ring. Her warm beige complexion contrasts with her dark ink black, seductively arched brows. Her long, flowing, spice-colored hair hangs beside her diamond-shaped face. A golden crown decorated with an opal-blue stone decorates her brow. A mischievous smile rests on her heart-shaped burgundy lips. Teasingly, she runs her navy blue long pointy nails over her long black mermaid gown. The tight corset emphasizes her big breasts. The high slit in her dress displays her slender, long legs. Silver stitching and black lace finish her wealthy gown. Two silver-curved teardrop earrings dangle from her ears. Each set has a magnificent sky-blue stone.  Around her small neck, six black strands decorate. Each with its distinctive silver amulet.  Some have earth stones, others diamonds. Two amulets are embellished with letters in the ancient language of the Elves, lending the outfit a sense of mystery and intrigue. One can sense the woman's naughty and adventurous attitude as she gazes at her sister, who is tightly bound to a nearby pole.
The younger sister appears more distressed than her older sister. Her heart-shaped, berry-colored lips let out a faint cry. She furrows her dark, sharp arched brows as she attempts to break free from the ropes. Her hourglass shaped body is tightly twisted against the post. It is clear; she is not going anywhere. A lovely ocean blue gown with an off shoulder collar and skyblue lace patern makes her stand out from her sisters. There is some mud and fallen leaves on the silk garment. On her forehead rests a golden tiara. A navy blue diamond decorates the heart, matching the waterfall necklace around her slim neck. Tears well up into her almond shaped eyes as she glances towards the tent roof. One of her wavy black hair strands rests between her lips. Her soft beige skin has here and there some blue discolorations. 
Hopelessly, the third woman on her left tries to comfort her. The third woman, who is visually distinct from her sisters, tries her best to control her emotions. Her diamond shaped face is decorated with a magnificent tiara. The silver jewel is decorated with white crystals. Around her neck, a diamond necklace adorns, matching her earrings. Her porcelain-colored skin is stained with sand, mud and blood. Her white A line gown has off-the-shoulder low slung sleeves that are shredded. Exposing her rectangular torso and round, big breasts. Her dark blonde brows are softly arched.  Her almond shaped eyes are deep blue-green. Her heartshaped mouth has a cold famingo pink color. Her long, daisy colored hair is tied into a waterfall braid. Grunting, she narrows her eyes as pain flares through her left wrist. Afraid, she glances up at the muscular man holding them captive... 
The muscular man thoughtfully makes his way inside the tent. His ink black hair is firmly knotted into a ponytail. His oval shaped face is hairless and smooth as silk. Casually, he wipes his blood-stained hands on the guard's dark tunic. His thin, buttermilk colored lips curl into a smile. His deep, amber-colored, monolithic eyes search the room. The man appears cold because of his olive skin. Or is it his intense gaze?
"Greetings, ladies," he says, his voice scratchy and his Danish accent thick. "Unfortunately, luck is not on your side," he goes on. The final lady bravely speaks up: "What has happened to queen Delilah?"
In response, the man throws a silver crown into the withered grass and laughs. Red blood ruins the crown's dark blue diamonds. The woman's heart quickens as she recognizes her mother's tiara. The third girl appears utterly dispassionate, while the woman in the center trembles and tries to conceal her feelings. The third girl, however, appears to be totally apathetic.
"What did you expect?" he mocks, his gaze locked on the woman in the middle. He can't help but admire her attractiveness, with her heart-shaped face and delicate nose. Black hair that is hip-length, long eyelashes, and a delicate, creamy beige complexion. He scrutinized every feature of her almond-shaped, navy blue eyes, which are adorned with just the right amount of black ink.  A pink glow decorates her cheeks as well as her heart-shaped crimson lips. He becomes light-headed and loses his concentration for a moment, but quickly shakes his head and regains his composure.
"Who among you is Isobelle?" he says, not moving his gaze away from her. Surprisingly, none of the girls confess. He turns and walks up to the mahogany table, where a collection of knives and pokers is displayed. "I can make this hard if I have to," he cynically threatens. The first lady confidently asks, "Do you promise?" 
The man smiles and walks carefully up to her, stroking her soft jaw. He smells her neck. He detects the alluring scent of extinguished candles and cloves. He answers softly, "If you desire." His palm gently rests on her round breast. She replies with a gleam in her eye and a mischievous grin on her lips. 
He massages her nipple and kisses her neck. The imprisoned woman moans softly. He seems to be unaware that two other sisters are watching him. While putting his hand under her skirt, he puts his fingers inside her. However, his assault doesn't upset her. She moans and averts her look. Amused, he twingles his fingers deep inside her vagina.  The man chuckles softly after a moment and takes a step back.
"I guess you're Isobelle." Isobelle looks at him dissatisfied. "That's all," she retorts. "Later" he whispers. "Your mother spoke of you with great contempt." Isobelle laughs. "Is that supposed to hurt me?" "Maybe," The man responds, smirking, "You have something I want." You or one of you at least. I thought your mum had it at first. She was telling the truth, but it was too late. "Seventy times," he chuckles. The second female expresses her dissatisfaction. This seems to turn him on for a little moment. His thin lips curl into a sardonic grin. "What? Not pleasant?" he muffles as he caresses her beautiful jaw. Her silky flesh feels cool under his rough fingers. Her piercing blue eyes seem to consume his soul. He casually plays with her banana-scented hair. "What's your name?" he inquires. The young lady realizes this is not a question. He was more interested in learning her name than anything else. She mumbles "Katara" soft.  While a breeze flows through Katara's hair, the man whispers her name. Isobelle looks at them puzzled. Are people unaware of this spectacle, or do they ignore it? As she watches the couple, Isobelle is absorbed in her thoughts. Where is this feeling coming from? It seems as if the air is denser. Isobelle can hear a faint murmur. She gives the Elven man a close inspection. His boots and leather vest show that he is more than just a bad guy. Is he a hired assassin? Who hired him? And why? Katara quivers as the mercenary strokes her round breast. "I'll be back for you," he indicates and walks to the third sister. Before he can speak, the third woman spits in his face.
Angered, the mercenary closes his eyes. After rubbing the spit off his jaw, he gingerly opens his eyes. "Surely you are Selina". The haughty bitch your mother preached about," he says vehemently. He hits Selina unexpectedly. She shivers and moans. Blood appears on her lips. He carefully approaches Katara, who is sobbing. He sighs and strokes her hair, murmuring, "Shh." He says "Shh" again and pulls out a knife. "I've already shown great patience with your whore mother today, so don't test me," he warns. The Shadows book. Who and where?" When no one responds, the mercenary sighs quietly. "Isobelle," he continues, pointing to her, "my suspicion now turns to you. However, this does not exclude me from having some fun with your sisters. He winks at Katara and replies, "In various ways." "Please, my Lord, have mercy. I don't want my sister or I to discover the book. That book is fraught with danger. Reading that book will not result in anything good," Selina begs. As he watches Selina, the mercenary chuckles. He presses the knife on Selina's throat. "Sister" he asks mockingly. "Not sisters," he snorts, turning to face Isobelle. Isobelle laughs carelessly. Loud cries outside the tent camp grab the mercenary's attention.
A guard runs into the tent, calling out, "My lord." His black robe is stained with blood. "Knights, my lord. The camp has been looted. Please we must bring you to safety. Now!" The mercenary groans. "Fuck" he roars and turns to face the sisters. "My Lord, they are attacking us." "I need a moment" . "There isn't a moment," the guard laments. The mercenary curses as he exhales gently. "My Lord, there are too many of them," the guard grumbles angrily. 'Go. I'll catch up with you, says the mercenary. The mercenary, who is clearly in command, rushes to the youngest sister. 
"The book!" he exclaims. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Katara whimpers. She moves her gaze away from the razor-sharp edge. "Please release her. You filthy pig!" Selina yells as loudly as she can to catch the attention of the knights. Whoever the knights are, they have saved them from a painful death.  She is unsure whether the knights saved them on purpose, but one thing is certain. Because of them, she and her sisters are still alive! Her wild, white-blonde hair frames her lips. The mercenary's eyes widen the minute a bloodied guard enters. "My Lord, the camp has fallen." "Flee, my captain," he shouts, dropping to the muddy ground. Furious, he thrusts the knife into Katara's upper arm and storms out of the tent.
Katara tenses her muscles and whimpers. Clear blood streams down her arm. Selina cries loudly.  "Katara" she roars and fights with the ropes violently. Isobelle looks abruply up. A soft whisper rings into her ears. "Wyrda". Isobelle looks around the frigid tent puzzled. Wyrda? Faith? What kind of destiny? Who's destiny? Who said that? Why does she hear this? Does Katara's injury have any bearing on this? "Isobelle, do something now. This is entirely your fault! If Katara bleeds to death". Isobelle replies coldly, "I don't know if you noticed, sister, but I'm also imprisoned," Selina groans fiercely. "That's it. You are exiled, starting right now!" shouts Selina angrily. "Selina," Katara pleads. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. Everything will be fine, Katara," Selina assures her. Salty tears irritate Katara's split lip. Isobel lets out a sigh. "If you wish... Sister," she retorts. Katara, afraid for her life, watches the knights enter the tent. She shivers as she looks into the knight's eyes. His white weaponskirt is blood splattered. He murmurs softly.  "Shh." His voice is soothing. He calms her down with a single word. She examines his dazzling gaze. His rough hand gently caresses her arm. Isobelle hears it once more. "Wyrda". She gives the knight a puzzled expression. Selina takes a deep breath as the tight bands on her body dissapear. She quickly rushes towards her sister.  "Katara." "She's fine," Reki says, glancing at Selina. His mouth twitches in a smile. He finally looks back at Katara.  "Let me help you," he whispers and rests his hand on Katara's shoulder. Ward gives a bandage to Reki. He guides Selina to a chair. Ward softly takes her hand in his and whispers, "Everything will be alright. Reki .. "The mercenaries have killed the queen; we are too late," he says in his ear. Reki slowly turns to face Ward. He nods and turns to face the woman in front of him. "I'll be forthright and honest. You'll feel it. But I'll do everything as quick and careful as possible." Katara nods, fearful of the knight. Even his gentle smile cannot warm her. He begins with "one" and nods to Ward, who is holding Katara against the post. As he removes the knife, he whispers, "Tw." Ward yells, "What happened to two and three?" Grumbling, he binds Katara's arm. Reki laughs. "Knowing that something bad is on its way hurts far more. Ward's eyes squint. As Reki locks his attention on Isobelle, she gives him a muted glare. Isobelle takes a step back cautiously. She doesn't trust them. Deep voices have barred her from taking part in the conversation. Selina eventually exiled her. Why would she help? Isobelle takes a step backward. It's time to make good on the assassin's vow to her. She droops her head and fades away into the forest's darkness. Katara mumbles, "My lord." Reki casts a severe look her way. "Thank you," she stammers and formally bows. Nodding, Reki kisses the back of her hand. "My Lord, the mercenary." "I'll make him pay, Reki declares firmly. Concerned, he looks at her.  "Are you hurt?" Selina shakes her head. "Let's at least pay you back with a decent meal," she offers hastily. Reki gives a nod. "Yes, we could use a meal." Before going away, she gives him a lingering look. Reki walks after her. Ward rolls his eyes as he helps Katara out of the tent. This was going to be another short evening.. But not for Reki...