( Emilia grows quiet as another question goes answered. Wrath is masterful at making himself unreadable and concealing his true intentions. But the day she summoned him to her circle, his hatred — hatred that was once so shared — felt so potent.
Real.
It had been. The memory of her had been twisted beyond recognition, their love for each other warped. And she — she'd grown up. She'd had a mortal family. Every memory of that life as real as their hate. She still can't fathom a spell that would erase centuries of existence. But then, Sursea isn't only a witch. She is the very first one, the direct descendant of a goddess. )
The marble statue in the garden.
( The woman with a crown of stars on her head and two daggers in hand, a goddess symbol etched at the bottom of her spine. That statue was not present in her former life, in that garden they'd sneak off to. She's certain of that much.
Her throat tightens as another realization comes to her, so tight her voice is barely a whisper when she speaks. )
[action]
Real.
It had been. The memory of her had been twisted beyond recognition, their love for each other warped. And she — she'd grown up. She'd had a mortal family. Every memory of that life as real as their hate. She still can't fathom a spell that would erase centuries of existence. But then, Sursea isn't only a witch. She is the very first one, the direct descendant of a goddess. )
The marble statue in the garden.
( The woman with a crown of stars on her head and two daggers in hand, a goddess symbol etched at the bottom of her spine. That statue was not present in her former life, in that garden they'd sneak off to. She's certain of that much.
Her throat tightens as another realization comes to her, so tight her voice is barely a whisper when she speaks. )
It was so you wouldn't forget. ( Forget her. )