As silence shrouded our species, our tradition became more and more vital. Before repose, each of us retired in meditation to reconcile with our Goddess and to make the vipers fall asleep. They were our life companions and had to live with us, our prisoners. We were devoted to them and to our training. We are always ready. From those who hire us as mercenary troops one came back, curse him!, discovered what we are and, greedily, attacked us, with the grim wish to return home with a trophy, our head. Fools, they have seen us fighting. They call us Amazons, Warriors, Erynies. We prefer to consider ourselves as cursed.
Our camp is located at the ultimate borders of the Kingdom, so distant even from the last Castle’s outpost. The first time we met him, he beseeched our help, not military aid, but help in sharing our knowledge and in joining the trainings. Impossible. As we don’t own the lethal power of our ancient mother, we shall not either reveal ourselves completely to him. We offered him a gift, so he would have walked away: one of our weapons, a shield. And we told him the tale of that object.
The morning after I woke up confused. Poisoned. I stood up, dazed, realizing I had collapsed during my watch. That night my duty was to guard the sleep of our commander, but here she was, lying on the ground, beheaded.
I’m travelling, exiled from the only life I know. I’m travelling, seeking revenge.