Legend Awaits
Legend
“She was born from Elise and Damien. She was the product of the most pure and the most vile. She was born with small, gray wings and black markings covering her body. She had a crescent moon with a star in the middle in the middle of her forehead. From there, swirls framed her face; two identical spirals on either sides of her neck. Her arms were decorated with fiery swirls on the front of them, leading to the top of her hand. She had two, small wings on either side of her stomach with swirls leading over ribs to her back, to her real wings. The back of her neck had thick lightening bolts that connected at mid back. Down the front and back of legs, leading to the top of her feet, were what looked like waves of the ocean. When the waves got to her feet, they separated in three directions to the sides and to the front.
“As she grew, her markings and wings grew with her. Her strength was unmatched. She had powers no others had. She could make a city crumble in seconds and could make it rise again just as quickly. She led battles against her own father. Her father was a son of the devil. It is said that she even killed him in of the battles. In the last battle, she was lost. The wart was one, but after it, no one could find her. Some said she died when she had to tap into her laden power to win the battle. She sacrificed herself for all.
“Her eyes went black, and the brightest, purest, white light projected from her designs. The light covered all the evil in the world. Her screams pierced every heart that day. When the light finally went out, she was gone. Nothing was left of her. No dust, no hair, no place of clothing; nothing. The world went on without her. Even her love forgot her; the sad part is that he forgot her before her death. He betrayed her; he went to the dark side. He left her for another. No one wonder she sacrificed herself.”
That was the story my great-grandfather used to tell me before he put me to bed. He would tell a story of a different battle every night. I would go to bed having dreams about her, wishing I could be her. In some dreams I was. I know it’s a silly dream, but I still have them ten years later. I’m seventeen, eighteen in a week and a half, February 11. My name is Carlyn Binder.
“As she grew, her markings and wings grew with her. Her strength was unmatched. She had powers no others had. She could make a city crumble in seconds and could make it rise again just as quickly. She led battles against her own father. Her father was a son of the devil. It is said that she even killed him in of the battles. In the last battle, she was lost. The wart was one, but after it, no one could find her. Some said she died when she had to tap into her laden power to win the battle. She sacrificed herself for all.
“Her eyes went black, and the brightest, purest, white light projected from her designs. The light covered all the evil in the world. Her screams pierced every heart that day. When the light finally went out, she was gone. Nothing was left of her. No dust, no hair, no place of clothing; nothing. The world went on without her. Even her love forgot her; the sad part is that he forgot her before her death. He betrayed her; he went to the dark side. He left her for another. No one wonder she sacrificed herself.”
That was the story my great-grandfather used to tell me before he put me to bed. He would tell a story of a different battle every night. I would go to bed having dreams about her, wishing I could be her. In some dreams I was. I know it’s a silly dream, but I still have them ten years later. I’m seventeen, eighteen in a week and a half, February 11. My name is Carlyn Binder.