Prologue

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I wasn't born a villain. 

People tend to forget that. The cruel ones sneer and throw jagged rocks and insults to my face. It is the kind ones who lie. 

"Deep down, you are good, like your sister." They say with pitying tones.

Yes. I had a sister.

But I am nothing like her. She has ebony hair that cascaded down her neck, which I had cut to her shoulders for the summer weather, whereas I had spiky hair that I cut to just below my neck out of mourning. She has a pale face, delicate eye lashes and plump lips, kissed with pink. I, however, had freckles from spending time in the sun when I was young, and thin lashes that I did not care for.

My mother?They got killed by the filthy rich across the town, the Landier Family. I would often scoff as I walk pass their home with my sister.

"Calm down Alecto," she used to say. "Come, let us ignore them." Easy for her to say. Perila had been 4 months old when our mother died. Our Father met a new woman, our Stepmother, and they moved to a new house, as our old one had been burned.

Over the years, I learned to wield spears, bow and arrows, swords and daggers. I also teached Perila, as I care much about her safety.

 "When will I ever learn to use these skills sister?" She asked one afternoon. "I am sure we are in good hands with Stepmother and Father." I softened at her voice.

"Perila, believe me, that time will come when you least expect it," I had told her. "Now show me, how do you wield a bow?"

I wish I knew that time would be closer than we anticipated.


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