Within Rasghadhan

Mystical power was gain to those who wielded it. With it, the blind could see through darkness and the weak could conquer an army of fierce warriors. But even the most powerful of men could fall by the hand of betrayal.

No man with a rare gift showed his enemies his source of power. Of what use is power when it is caged? What use is love when it is betrayed? What is the use of the throne when it has no ruler?

Ravenhill was in shreds and their queen no more. Those once feared for their control of power, now sat in chains amongst their kingdom’s ruins.

Black smoke bled through the air, revealing the dead bodies of loved ones and the battered corpse of a once glorious land.

The ruined kingdom echoed the wails of the captured. The voices of adults and children weeping for the fallen in battle. But there was hope. For power was birthed in a child, and as long as she lived, her kingdom would rise again.

Razi stumbled to the charcoal ground. The stench of burnt flesh and blood filled his broken nose. A loud groan fell from him when his back was smashed under the heavy foot of a rival.

“Name!” The victorious warrior ordered in disgust.

“Razi.”

“Who’s the girl to you?” The man growled.

Razi’s seeing eye flashed to the crying child beside him.

Her violet eyes shined with fear and sorrow. “Mhat, a commoner.” He answered, blinking blood from his wounded sight. As they dragged them away from their Kingdom, Razi hoped his people forgave him. It was the only way to keep her safe. The little girl was their last hope.