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And she had arrived to offer up Zevander, her second-born son, to it. Not by choice, of course. Lady Rydainn would’ve sacrificed herself right there and then, if it would spare Zevander from such a horrific fate. Unfortunately, the mage who’d demanded the exchange wasn’t interested in her pittance of an offer. He wanted her youngest son, and nothing more.
I was no more than a few days old when I’d been found abandoned before that cursed arch in a wicker basket, a single black rose upon my chest. No one knew who’d left me there, but every villager speculated that, whoever they were, they must have hoped the woods would eat me, as well.
fanatical Sacred Men, the religious branch of the Vonkovyan armies that ruled with an iron fist over most of the continent. A small faction of defectors maintained a hold over Lyveria in the northern part of the continent, and my father had ventured there as a missionary, to convert the Lyverians for the glory of our good country.
On his forearm, he bore the mark of a predator. Rapax. Those who took advantage of children in one form, or another, either by sexual favors or abuse. The marks were issued by the Imperial Guard to identify them as molesters, and most served time in the mines of Solassia.
While episodes like these, during which he’d sometimes lost control of the flame, were relatively rare, it was enough to trouble him. A testament to the unruly and unpredictable nature of his power.
This is so rare to find in a book I feel. Usually, powerful MMC have little to no flaws with their powers