Black Clover: Incarnate

Ch. 1: Regrets

//AN: I'm sorry to say that lol, the picture above is not Sunniva, but it's just that I really can't find the picture of a girl that kinda fits Sunniva's appearance and when I do, the mood of the pic is way too happy, and the mood of this chapter is wayyyy too different so the pic wouldn't fit in to the feel of this chap. Anyways sorry for the late update. I forgot to publish and edit any mistakes lol.
I'll go into detail about Sunniva's appearance next and I'll actually start going deeper into the BB universe as I couldn't really start on it this chap as it's more of a filler.
Thx for reading this trash lol.
See ya next Chappie.//

Sometimes it would be worse than normal and when it was, it normally wasn't in the present of company, she's always made sure of that, but sometimes there are things out of her control, unfortunately.

She's gathering herbs by the lakeside in the middle of nowhere when a voice calls out to her, "Sunniva." Her hand pauses, shaking. She holds her breath and focuses on her surroundings, looking, looking for that familiar voice that seemed like it was nearby, and she dearly hopes that she is wrong, and she's only hallucinating.

"Sunniva." The voice whispers again, echoing in the forest like a silent hush, bringing shivers down her spine.

Sunniva stands up abruptly, the hair on her skin are straight up. She drops the basket of fresh herbs, her eyes wide and alert. She is beyond terrified.

"S-Sun...niva-a." This time, the voice is distorted, rough, raspy, breathy, and pained. She winces, a torrent of thoughts whirling around in the safe harbors of her mind, destroying everything in its path, leaving destruction in its wake.

"Sunniva." There's a different voice this time, lower, and more stern.

She bursts out into a run for her cabin, leaving the lake of harrowing whispers. When she runs through the woods, she hears the sound of laughter and of mocking but it does not deter her, the sounds are better than the whispers of the demons.

Her breaths are labored when she slams the house door open then slamming it close. She slides down on the back of the door, her hand running through her hair, and tugging at its roots in distress. She pulls up her hand in front of her. She's shaking, she realized. To stop it, her other hand grabbed the wrist, tightening around it as it would stop with its shaking. Sunniva then realizes that her whole body's shaking. She presses on her eyes with the edge of her palms, putting pressure on the organ.

Somedays it's good, somedays it's not.

She wonders if she's sane.

King Julius, the Magic Emperor, although he had a charming persona, is most often frightening and undeniably oppressing. She knows that he is not the Magic Emperor simply because he was a noble and well liked, but because he was strong, reliable and undeniably terrifying. He exudes an aura of authority and it does not bid her well when she sees a different face than his when she looks at him. He reminds her of a girl in one of her many lives' memories, she was young, but she was drenched in blood, her eyes are cold and while she often called the person, who's memories Sunniva retains, Father, and she feels the warmth, there is still an underlying terror in the memories' owner's thoughts. He is a lion, laying in the open plains of the savannah. He is calm and appears to be resting but was calculating behind the persona of an easygoing personality. He is king and she knows that he cannot simply relax in the company of a stranger with the lives of his men at risk.

Sunniva thinks that that's King Julius, a man with the persona of a curious child always looking for adventure but with the prowess to kill an army in the blink of an eye. With all the memories she retains, she is wise and she sees many things, so it's a given that she's wary around the King who's eyes follow her like a curious cat or an eagle ready to snatch its prey. Either way, she doesn't appreciate his attention. She blames the boy, Blanchard, for bringing her out into the sun and out of the comforts of the forest and it's shadows. There is no freedom when there are hundreds of eyes dissecting you like you're an enemy or an unknown that needs to be cracked.