Hey, everyone!
This is my first fanfic so I'm a little nervous.
So here it goes!
(Disclaimer: I don't own the Golden Sun or games characters; they belong to Camalot, not me)
There was no one better than he.
And nothing better that he could do.
Pulling strings.
He imagined his web, his tool in life, strands of colors, each representing one of his pawns. A pluck here, intertwining others together, and the occasional snip. The rare and occasional snip. When one was no longer needed by him. When one's expectancy had suddenly been cut short.
Pluck.
Snip.
He had laid it out all perfectly, every step of the way, accommodating to the occasional knots in a strand- a bump in the road.
Twist.
Pull.
And then it was all gone. Just gone.
All the effort, all that energy, snatched from his fingers. Now it lay in the hands of a nobody, not worthy, not even knowing of what he held.
And yet he could do nothing.
He was trapped here in this earthen cage like an animal. Maybe it was more accurate to say asan animal. His cerulean hair was wild and unkempt, clothes torn and sullied, he was disorderly, physically and mentally.
And he waited.
He would have retribution.
Eight and a god would all pay.
He would have his vengeance.
And Goddamn it, they would all pay.
Thanks for reading and please reveiw to let me know if I suck or otherwise!
