SCAR OF SCANTHIN

The child toddled into the room with bleary, fearful eyes and a burning lantern in hand. Save for her light source, which should not really qualify for one as the lantern had been designed so small for her size and was meant as a deterrent for the ghosts under the bed; the room was pitch dark. The windows were tightly shut and the room smelled……funny.She scrunched up her little nose, unaccustomed to the smell that was not her sister’s sweet-smelling flowers in spring scent. Maybe her sister let in one of the stray dogs again. But the thought had barely registered before she heard the muffled and grunting sounds from the bed.“Sara?,” she called hesitantly, barely hearing her own self as she made her way closer to the big four poster bed with the lacy, frilly lavender curtains all around it.That was another thing that was off. Although Sara had insisted on the curtains and had put their mother through a whole lot of ‘face wrinkling stress’ as their mother would call it, she had nev

Walking into the courtyard felt like walking into a death sentence. It was a long time since she saw her family gathered.Ok.Maybe not so long.They all put aside whatsoever they might be doing to have breakfast every fortnight. It was a tradition her father started after Sara’s death and it seemed like the family was about to break apart.Not that it did much in mending the gap in communication, seeing as conversation was usually limited during their breakfast. Much of the talking was usually done by her brothers and father but at least, the tradition kept their family together and relatively sane.Scar felt her father’s piercing grey eyes as she entered the room, eyes she had inherited.She did not have to look up to know it, she felt it just like she felt every breath, every sigh and every regret and condemnations in their heart as she moved closer to them.Alan stood up and smiled at her, drawing back a chair for her. But she did not bother returning his smile. Neither did she

A week had passed with Scar being left in the dungeon without a decision made about killing or keeping her . With the awareness of whose child she was Damon have been taken aback with his decision. The approval of his dying father mattered so much to him . The wolves believed that whoever sat on the throne ruled their kind, but Damon had sat on this throne for three years, and it was his opinion that the throne ruled him. At least, it did right now, as his ass was sore and his head was worse off for the incessant bickering coming from the wolves settled around the fire below the dais. The discomfort made him irritable and less inclined to listen to the arguing voices. They shouted at one another so fitfully that they didn't notice how Damon nursed his piercing headache instead of listening to their crap. "We should just kill her and be done with it," one wolf said, his voice high and shrill. This wolf was Shadow, one of Damon's chief advisors. He liked to jump to violen

Damon rubbed his eyes. He wanted to believe that. It was stupid, really. If this whole thing with talking was just meant to get him to drop his guard, then it was working. Wasn’t he smarter than this? He tried to pull his anger and hate forward, to shield himself from unfortunate emotions—but he was so tired of being angry. He sighed as he turned toward her. "How many witches are in Scanthin ?” “I only know about one,And that is me Scarlett." Scar murmured, holding herself tightly.Damon advanced on her and she backed into the wall, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Why should I believe you?” “Because… because it’s the truth. I don’t have anything else to tell you. I don’t know what’s going on right now but you have to believe me. Damon pressed her into the wall and wrapped one hand around her throat. Gently. Not hurting her. Just wanting to see her reaction. He had no intention of actually killing her, after all. “I could kill you now, if you want.” She met his eye, her head f

With her head held high, Scar allowed the she-wolves to lead her out of the room, down the wooden steps that wrapped around the trees, and down to the forest floor. Early morning light filtered through the thick branches overhead, dappling the ground with patches of hazy light. If it wasn't for what was about to happen to her, Scar might find the forest at dawn beautiful. The she-wolves ushered her past the tall trees, along a worn path, and deeper into the forest. She could hear the murmurs of many voices up ahead, but she couldn't see them. However, when the trees parted, Damon was the first thing she saw. He waited for her by a tree at the edge of what looked like a clearing up ahead. He was resplendent in his clothing, a handsome prince dressed in a tailored suit with a white shirt and black tie. A gold chain hung around his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt. His dark blond hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes were cold and bright as he watched her approach,