Astra Griffin was trained, beaten, and forced to be the best version of herself - or most skilled. She was the best fighter the world would come to know, she was the best archer the world would know, she was the best shooter the world would know, sh...
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ASTRA — ' foxy '
I STARED AT THE FOG COVERED SKY FOR MOMENT, wishing I could see the constellations. They were Hestia's favorite thing in the world. Although, my sister was loyal to our parents — and always would be — I still loved her. She was still my sister. I would still fight the world to keep her safe. No matter how often she'd end up fighting me, I wished she could understand. Though, my father had devoted himself to helping her understand her 'true weapon.'
She was the best fighter in the entire family. She was better than our parents. No matter how hard I tried, I knew I would always be the failing little sister. My parents seemed to hate that Hestia was better than me.
I didn't understand. The way they talked about me,, like I was the best. Even though I highly doubted I was even close to the best. Anyway, wouldn't it be an accomplishment if they thought so mighty of me and Hestia beat me?
Either way, she was older — and with her great skill I always tried to get to train with her. She was ruthless, too. She didn't hold back like others did sometimes. Still, my parents had refused to let me train with her. For once I would learn something.
I never understood that, nor did I understand the concept of home anymore. I looked at the sky, expecting to see Hestia's heart in it. I looked in the mirror, expecting to see the dark brown hair than matched Amaya. I took glances at large schools, expecting to see my two youngest siblings — Nyx and Amaris — fighting over something stupid as they left. I looked a mythically beautiful homes, expecting to see Ashton tending a garden in the back.
I heard footsteps approaching me. They were already so close — in the moments of loneliness, I'd completely lost awareness of my surroundings.
I glanced at the person walking toward me, already turning to walk away as I did so. She had fiery, short, wavy hair. I didn't need to look twice to know that she was after me.
"Who are you?" I muttered as I turned around with a determined mindset. I had two weapons in pants, another two in my boots, and another in my sweatshirt pocket. Along with array of them in my spell-induced backpack.
"Is that really what you want to know?" She asked with a surprised tone. The surprise confused me, but I couldn't really say much as her fit flew at my face. I dodged it, ducking and quickly moving away from her before almost kicking her ankle. She dodged it.
I usually kicked them down and then tore a muscle right at their ankle so they could run, interrogated them, and then left. It was routine, easy. Pulling a few extra tricks out was just some flavor to it.
