The trees danced as the wind shook their magnificent green leafs in an angry rage. The cold, yellow moon sat above the forest, watching a woman sitting on rock at her camp.The stars were like lucid snowflakes of silver as they sprinkled the night sky.
A fire crackled in the corner of the campsite, projecting long shadows on the surrounding area. The light cast by the flames danced across the dark trunks of trees, providing a small radius of light.
The woman was sharping her sword; her striking melancholy deep blue eyes were watching the flames of the fire as it was pulsating. The glowing embers leaped and twirled in a fiery dance.
The woman sitting by the campfire never felt more alone in her life. The regret would come to her in quite moments, such as those. She was once a Free Blade, a Mercenary, until her captain got a contract with elves, and those mage's who was experimenting on powers they didn't know anything about. She should have stopped them while she could, but she didn't. Because he ordered her, ordered to protect them, which she did, but at what cost?
The war, no matter how much she tried to be the woman her conscience wanted her to be, it would keep taunting with her failures.
The ritual those mages did, made her into someone she doesn't know. She doesn't feel like herself.
Because of that thing inside her head, she killed her captain, made bad decision, and sacrificed a friend she loved just to win the goddamn war.
The woman that she loved a banded her for the sake of power, and yet, she still loved her and she let her go. No matter how many time she wished to change the past, to make the right choice, but sometimes even she didn't know what the right choice was. Like an unforgiving specter it would be back to hunt her all over again.
But she known she can't turn back the clock. She will have to live with here and now, and make better choices next time.
Each wave was icy cold and send shivers down her spine. She longed to go back and take a different path, but now it was impossible. There was no way back. No way to make it right.
She would have to remember those faces she left, their sad eyes, crying tears, broken bodies, hunted souls she left to die. The heartache was like a red hot coal placed in her chest; it glowed and burned at the same time.
The woman features were hard and perfectly related; her brows and lashes draw in a darker hue, gave touches of a hunted soul, which was lost among the men. She was strong, her muscles showing on her biceps as she wiped the swords with whetstone. She was a woman of unusual strength and agility.
The woman was dressed in leather armor, black in color, her black cape around her shoulders warming her back.
Soft pale honey hair swept past an ear and caressed the skin of her neck, jaw, cheeks and around her rather striking melancholy blue eyes. Her lips were twitching, but her eyes looked blurred as if with tears.
The woman closed her eyes, and set aside her sword and whetstone, she stood up from the rock she was sitting on, and slowly opened her eyes, her eyes glowed almost inhuman blueness.
She slowly walked to the blanket that was close to the fire, she was tired from her journey, she know she was close to the village, only a day and half will take to get to it.
She need to get food and see what been going on around those parts. She was not from around here, it was a new place, a place she never been. But to her it didn't matter, she was a wondering soul, always searching but searching for what she didn't know.
Once again she saw the faces of her friends as she looked at the fire that glowed warmly and hot at the same time. She knows that as soon she closes her eyes, the nightmare will come, and every night it was the same.
She was paralyzed, watching how her friends being killed in front of her eyes, their bodies falling one by one, their heads missing, they burned flesh that she still could smell, their empty eyes of life. Every single night they asked her for help, and she just stood there and watched them being killed.
Every moment she would wake up, sweating and gasping for breath, her hands would shake, and striking melancholy deep blue eyes would have a hunted look in them.
She was a hunted woman, her spirit was strong, but her heart was broken, she wanted to help people, she wanted to pay for her sins, pay for her mistakes, that why she is here, wondering the Earth.
She hopped she would find her peace, even if she can't find her redemption for everything she did, for every mistake she made, for every souls she sacrificed.
She hopped, and she prayed, she swears to the gods that she will do everything in her power to help people who need the help.
Back in the past she was rude, harsh and brave, but honest. And now she is nothing but calm and polite, and still brave.
When she was asleep she lay as still as a brick, only movement was the slight rise and fall of her chest. Her sword was always close by. She felt no danger around, but she still stayed wary even when she was asleep. Years of ambushes and traps, craved her skills and her senses of smell and her instincts that was never wrong.
Right now it was safe at the moments. She knows that dreams would come. It was always this way. No matter where she was or who she was which.
It was always the same. The same dreams that would hunt her for the rest of her life.
She swear, she will find a way to make things right.
She swears on her name a name of the ex-leader of Free Blades.
Thea the Bishop.