Hosted by MizB at Should Be Reading.
by R.L. LaFevers
I bear a deep red stain that runs from my left shoulder down to my right hip, a trail left by the herbwitch's poison that my mother used to try to expel me from her womb. That I survived, according to the herbwitch, is no miracle but a sign I have been sired by the god of death himself.
~♥~
"Trials?" I ask. "Is that what my life has been? A series of trials to be passed?"
"You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is the well-tempered blade that is the strongest."
