{A Wattpad Featured Book}
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Her heart or her people. Only she can decide.
Hated, cursed, outcasted. It was Eleena Asterin's life ever since she was blamed to have betrayed her village. So when she is offered a task to earn back her honour and prid...
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Mortals.
The word alone was like the toll of a death knell, sinking deep into my bones.
And everything else was hushed—quiet.
But footsteps rang sharply down the hallway and through the door, sounding overly loudly in my own ears, like the booming heartbeat of a condemned prisoner. Phoebus had walked away.
And perhaps it was because Kallistê had no more words to say or was perhaps drained and weary from bearing the information alone but she didn't say anything—nothing at all—before her own resounding footsteps faded into dim silence.
I was alone again.
When the world used to kiss up against my skin and laugh with me, hold me—I didn't want the moment to end, wishing that time could stand still and that I could bathe in pleasant blissfulness—even if it was just for a moment. But after hearing what Kallistê had confessed, it was as if the world had shrunken away to leave a cold void around my skin, as if I had become detached from reality itself with nothing but a fattening black whole of mangled thoughts in the depths of my head.
I wasn't sure how long I had been on the floor. Kallistê and Phoebus had long since left and now everything was just...nothing. I didn't feel anything at all. The flowery scent seeping in from the window had suddenly turned musty and twisted and I stood, walking towards those polished glass panels and swung them shut, locking it.
It was only when the chirping, buzzing, and swaying, sounds of nature stood still did I allow myself to stop and breathe and think.
The attackers are mortals, they said and I was surprised to find myself believing them. But if it was people from the village, my village—I didn't know. The chances were equal when I compared my village with other nearby affiliates made out of small towns or bustling cities. After all, humans hated faeries and it was a mutual understanding for the two sides.
If I was completely honest though, I'd admit the reason as to why they were attacking now after centuries of peace was still unclear—like peering in murky, grey waters only to see yourself, eyes and nose scrunched and lips tightening. This is why I pushed it aside, focusing on other possibilities instead.
The consequences would be steep, unavoidable, if my village and the Elders had something to do with these assaults. Every little detail, every sacrifice and months of planning would be bleached away—not a single stain to be found. So I doubted it. Doubted that the Elders would be rash enough to do this, doubted that my family would be stupid enough to do this as an act of love or vengeance.
Or so I told myself.
I could live on excuses for a long time. Maybe call myself a hero while I'm at it. Perhaps also burn and slaughter a few faeries they call heretics if my people wanted them dead. The world made room for these things. It made large room for monsters, and less so, I think, for those half-eaten by them.
