Ashril
He was born in the north, where winter lasts longer than the memory of summer. A small settlement at the foot of the black mountains - a place where strangers rarely enter and even more rarely leave the same. His father was a hunter. Silent, tough, but fair. Mother was a herbalist who knew the language of the forest better than the language of people. From her he inherited what later became his curse. He felt. Not just emotions - but peace. Its cracks, its weaknesses, its lies. When he was a child, this manifested itself strangely: he knew in advance when a storm would begin, felt if an animal in the forest was injured or dangerous, had dreams about things that actually happened. People in the village at first called it a gift. Then they began to whisper. And then that day came. He doesn't like to remember it. And perhaps that’s why he doesn’t fully remember. Fire. Screams. And silence after. When it was all over, the village was no longer there. And he stayed. One.
О Ashril
He was born in the north, where winter lasts longer than the memory of summer. A small settlement at the foot of the black mountains - a place where strangers rarely enter and even more rarely leave the same. His father was a hunter. Silent, tough, but fair. Mother was a herbalist who knew the language of the forest better than the language of ...Читать больше