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SOUL SURVIVOR: THE BATTLE OF DAIMON FORD
Helga strode along the narrow path that ran along the cliff face, with an ease of long practice. The midday sun shone directly down and she pulled the hood of her cloak forward on her head to cut the glare.
She hated the sun, it blinded her to all that moved, and made the shadowy reaches of her sanctuary retreat beneath the blazing onslaught. If I had my way, I would never leave my home. But Artio had begged her to come, to see her latest experiment with the moon. Acch! who cares about planetary bodies? Cold and remote and eternally boring, like the Gods that formed them. For that matter, what good was their useless father, outcast of the Gods? She had long since stopped praying to them.
She skirted a large boulder and then swerved off to a descending path that led into the shade of some scrubby pines, with half of the branches missing.
She was ashamed of their father, if truth be known. A GOD, lowering himself to rut with a mortal woman…was he insane? I would have banished him, too. Thinking of their father wound her up, her anger bubbling to the surface of her skin and blistering the stone she trod on, leaving a blackened outline of her boot where she stepped.
Flame leapt to her fingertips and the trailing grasses ignited with the heat of her anger. The smell of fresh burn made her withdraw from her introspection and she tamped down her hatred, realizing she was leaving a literal blazing trail of her passing.
The Gods never visited; they ignored their half-mortal, half immortal offspring, preferring to keep themselves pure and untouched by the bastard offspring of one of their own. Helga tossed a wet blanket over her thoughts, as she felt her temperature rising once again. Now is not the time to dwell on family history, she thought, but there will come a time, oh yes…
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