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Writer's pictureDiana Belhassen

Vesna Beremovic




Vesna was as royal as a fallen monarch, poised to invite worship and revolutions alike.


Her bones were engraved with the myths of men written with words longly forgotten, her body carved to be a weapon made of out light.


Shadows deepened her years and contorted her flesh into the arrow Death would ultimately send flying through Nations and Dynasties.


Her wrath could be felt through the thick deafened cloth of time, her chaos unmatched the unborn Universe, she had been Gaia and Uranus, creator and creation.


Her voice cracked like the thunder she feared and the fire she held in the palm of her hand burnt cold through her warm embrace.


Eyes made out of the deepest Onyx and of the cloudiest smoke.


Her love was pure and true, it at was ever so unforgiving, once gifted, you could hold Empires at the tip of your tongue, destroy history with the swiftness of a gesture.


What is your purpose, child, but to rage vengeance upon fate ?


What greater pain have you felt than the one you always held deepest in your heart ?


To which land will you come and claim again ?


Of foes and friends, has your blood ran thicker than the waters of your birth ?





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