“Damn,” I yelled, letting out some of the anger I’d been holding onto. Leaning forward, I dropped my head onto my desk with a thump. I was frustrated. I hadn’t been able to track down the origin of any of the rumors. It was always the same. I heard it from a friend who heard it from his brother…
“You forget who I am.”
My hand rises, and the materials in the room start to melt away, the fabrication, the ruse lifting. I sweep my hand through the house as every bit of wood, cloth, and metal it took to make it shakes and bends to my will.
“I am the Goddess of Ruin.”
I let out a groan, pulling the pillow over my head, drowning out the birds from outside. The woman from my dreams with jet black hair was still haunting me. I needed to know who she was. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. She could be just a figment of my imagination. People dreamt of strangers all the time.
I watched as I stepped away from her, looking out amongst the crowd. It was there I saw the most breathtaking woman across the ballroom. She had jet black hair and the warmest brown eyes. She looked troubled, sad even. I instantly felt a pang in my chest. I wanted to go to her, console her, but my feet wouldn’t move.
The past few days, I had struggled to hit my daily word count. The story seemed elusive, unwilling to come to life. But today, for some reason, I didn’t seem to have that problem. My fingers flew across the keyboard as the battle raged on the screen. Swords clashed, blood spilled, men died. When I finally took a break, I noticed it was late afternoon.
A sharp pain hits me between the eyes, my headache returning tenfold. I squint as I place a hand between my eyes, my nose scrunching. I stand, opening them again as every child stops what they were doing and looks toward me.
“It’s what you like, right? What you are.” Alex stands, holding up the picture. “Ruin.”