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... id feel better. He disliked being mothered by Elsbeth; it was something Beory had never really done for him when he was growing up. If he associated anyone in his life with the kind of fussing and care that he considered the unique domain of mothers, it would be his aunt, Meg. She was the one who’d cared for him when he was sick, forced him to eat when she thought he was wasting away, and demanded he sleep when she found he’d been up for too long.

The image of his aunt, a plump, brown-ha ...

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The smell of blood invaded my nostrils. I watched helplessly as the woman standing over me raised her sword. I was completely drained, I had no mana left, no items, nothing. As the crimson tendrils held me down by my arms and legs, all I could do was wait for my death.

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Oh, who am I trying to fool? I was here only because of my own greed. Because I wanted to be useful to someone. Because I wanted to that group to need me. To value me. To have a reason to keep me around. How naïve I was, thinking that power would grant those wishes. All it did was help build a wall between me and everyone else.

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