Chapter 03 – Page 01/05
Lillia: I am not a villain
The desolation of Eryndor stretched endlessly before Lillia, its vastness mirroring the emptiness that had settled within her once-vibrant heart. Under the relentless sun, the arid desert seemed to mock her exile from the realm of the Luzas. It was a place where the very air was laced with a stifling sense of isolation, and she stood amidst the unforgiving sands, her once-regal form now a creature of exile. Her eyes gleamed with memories of power, ambition, and an insatiable desire for more, a desire that had led her down a treacherous path, painting her with shades of sensuality, manipulation, and sarcasm.
As the golden sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dunes, Lillia’s thoughts drifted back to her origins. She had been a Luza, a serpent life being of breathtaking beauty and dreadful cunning, with six legs that allowed her to traverse even the harshest of terrains, with five majestic horns that marked her as a creature of exceptional power. Her most coveted ability, however, was the power to take on the guise of other living beings. It was a gift that allowed her to weave intricate webs of deceit and manipulation, a gift that had elevated her to a position of influence within the Luza society. But this incredible power came at a cost – to assume the form of another, she needed to devour their essence, absorbing not only their physical attributes but sometimes their very souls.
Lillia’s insatiable ambition had driven her to commit an unforgivable act, one that forever marked her as an outcast among the Luzas. She had devoured another Luza, a four-horned beauty who had been Tzaphk’s lover, the most powerful of all Luzas with seven magnificent horns. Her goal had been as clear as the desert’s sky – she aimed to rise within the rigid caste system that governed the Luzas, to claim power and prestige that had long eluded her. However, when Tzaphk, the ruler of their realm, discovered the fate of his beloved, he had condemned Lillia to a punishment that would forever haunt her. A scar, cruelly etched into her back, one that could never be concealed or erased, was her eternal reminder of her transgression. Banishment to the unforgiving desert of Eryndor had been the cruelest punishment he could bestow, stripping her of her status, her name, and her identity among her people.
Lillia sighed, her voice carrying a hint of sarcasm as she reflected on her past. “Tzaphk,” she murmured, her voice as sultry and deceptive as the shifting sands beneath her feet, “your melodrama knows no bounds. Marking me for eternity, as if I cared for your trivial sense of morality.”
Amidst the shifting sands and the echoes of her own bitter laughter, Lillia’s thoughts shifted to the war that had consumed Eryndor. The battle between enchanters and Luzas had been a fierce one, a cataclysmic clash of magic and might that had shaped the destiny of the world. But she had been conspicuously absent from the frontlines, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by those who had once called her kin.
Lillia’s sensuality was a weapon she wielded with effortless grace. Even as an outcast in the harsh desert, her lithe, serpentine form moved with a sinuous elegance that was impossible to ignore. Her golden eyes, with their subtle glint of mischief, had a hypnotic quality that could ensnare the unwary. She knew how to use her allure to her advantage, whether it was to extract information from unsuspecting travelers who stumbled into her domain or to sow discord among her enemies.
But it was her manipulation that truly set her apart. Lillia had honed her skills over centuries, learning to read people like open books, identifying their weaknesses, desires, and fears. She used this knowledge to manipulate those around her, bending them to her will with a subtle touch, a whispered promise, or a carefully crafted illusion. Her ability to mimic the voices and mannerisms of others made her a master of deception, and she reveled in the chaos she could create by sowing doubt and mistrust.
Sarcasm, however, was her favorite weapon of all. It was the shield she used to protect her wounded pride, the blade she wielded to cut down those who dared to question her. Lillia’s wit was as sharp as a scorpion’s sting, and she spared no one from its barbs. Her words were laced with a biting humor that could leave her victims smarting, and she relished the satisfaction of watching them stumble over their own words in response.