~ Regis's POV ~
The lingering clang of swords and scent of sweat clung to my skin as I stormed away from the training ground. Every step felt like a drumbeat against my skull, pounding, relentless… a constant reminder of my failure.
Her face wouldn’t leave my mind. That silver-haired witch. The girl I am not able to stop thinking about. She's gotten into my head like a damn parasite I can't claw out.
How had she dared?
She shouldn’t have existed. Not with those amethyst eyes. Not after all this time. Not after I’d buried every trace of her bloodline beneath blood and ashes.
‘She’s someone who might become a hurdle if not taken care of early. History can't repeat itself.’ That voice again. The same one that had started whispering days ago. Cold as ice, ancient as death.
I am not sure
