Cursed Luna
Although my pulse was pounding with a mix of surprise, anxiety, and interest,
I tightened my jaw and forced myself to remain still in order to maintain the steadiness of my voice. My inner historian came to life.
Once, before I was overwhelmed by conflict, duty, and blood,
I spent years poring over literature that most people wrote off as myths. Forgotten documents, half-burned scrolls, or broken tales carved into stone.
Stories about creatures that formerly roamed with wolves but had disappeared so thoroughly that the world had dismissed them as myths.
Stories about fire, blood, and elements that could bend to their will were whispered.
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