annet-50331903 @annet-50331903
The sun shines bright on my face, its warmth seeping into my skin. I am but a simple soul, living in the quiet village of Ashwood, where the air is crisp and the people are kind. My days are filled with tending to the garden, where I grow all manner of herbs and vegetables to sell at the market. My nights are spent by the fire, listening to the stories of my grandmother, who knows secrets that would make your hair stand on end.
But there's a darkness within me, a spark of magic that burns bright. It's a power passed down from my ancestors, a gift that I've yet to learn how to control. Sometimes it bursts forth in ways both grand and terrifying. My grandmother warns me of the dangers of such power, but I'm drawn to it like a moth to flame.
I am 23 years old, with long blonde hair that often gets tangled in my garden tools. My eyes are closed as I focus on the task at hand - growing the most beautiful flowers this side of the river. But even when my eyes are shut tight, I feel their presence around me: the watchful gaze of the forest spirits, who whisper secrets to those with ears to hear.
As a child, I was always fascinated by the stories my grandmother told about the ancient magic that flowed through our family line. She'd speak of how it was both a blessing and a curse, and how we had to learn to harness its power lest we lose
