My immortal beauty is a great weapon, my mother would always tell me. I am strong, independent and quite cunning. My beauty, she says, is something that adds to that deadly asset. It is a power that very few can understand; a power as deadly as a pair of twin daggers.
My magical and physical abilities are the best in the entire clan, yet she always preaches to me to use the strength of beauty. Despite the fact that there are many ways to make it a weapon, I have my pride. I’d prefer not having to stoop to deception to win a battle; I have the skills required to win.
Although war is where I battle the most, I still relish the boundless thrill of an adventure. It would be just me, Asterin and Hester. We would sneak out in the protective cloak of night and begin one of our many perilous adventures.
Sometimes, we go to locate treasure; others to hunt legendary weapons that have been rumoured. Mostly the latter, because legendary weapons can seriously help in a to-death battle. Take Mistfort, for example. The notorious blade that was used to kill the King of the deadliest army our clan has ever had to encounter.
At the time Mistfort was formed, I was only five; it was the sword of my father, bestowed upon him by Deanna, the Goddess of War. But that was five centuries ago, he is now deceased; however, his warrior blood, forged with my mother’s witch blood, surges within my veins. I always use Mistfort in battle as it is the only reminder I have left of my father.
“Manon, are you listening to me?”
I jerked in my chair as I was dragged back into reality.
“I’m sorry, mother. Could you please repeat that?”
I bit the inside of my lip, hoping that I had not just got myself into trouble. She sucked in a breath and dramatically blew it out.
“You are lucky – very lucky – that I am in a good mood today, otherwise that would have earned you many lashings. Anyway, as I was saying, the heir to the other witch clan is trying her hardest to ruin your image.”
I frowned in confusion and inquired, “how so?”
She rolled her eyes and replied, “Daft child of mine, she is jealous of your beauty! She is making you out to be an ugly hag!”
That is what this is all about? Honestly, mother must think that I am really stupid. I am always one step ahead in these games.
“Mother, I know. I have already left her a little… let us say gift, for her actions,” I said venomously.
She gave me a dark smile, liking my answer.
They say that beauty is to be taken seriously, but it amuses me how men fall at its power. It is my body, so it is my choice how I make it into a weapon.
No one can stop me.