Conquest of the Horde

Astia sat in her cell.
Her prison.
She had looked over everything a thousand times.
There was no measure of time.
How long had she been here?
How long had she sat in this chair, cravings and pains flooding her body.
She needed it.
Fel.
It was infinitely frustrating, to be so close to the ability to cast.
There were only a few chains between her and freedom.
Astia let out a snarl of frustration.
Why was she even here? She shouldn't be here.
She had wanted to purge the Fel from her body, yes…
But that was before she actually had to do it.
Before she had known exactly what she would go through.
The pain was constant.
Uthaniel's tea helped, but it was still excruciating.
Astia refocused her mind.
“Remember. Why are you here.”
Was it the fear?
The hatred?
A little of both, Astia mused.
She was tired of feeling fear, of being discovered, of using Fel, of people's reactions towards Fel.
She was tired of the hatred she received for using a certain type of magic.
She was tired of everyone around her pestering her to stop using it.
That was why she had agreed, even asked, to have it purged from her body.
But now that she was here…?
Astia would give anything to have it back.
She had expected the need to lessen over her time in her prison.
It had only increased. Astia closed her eyes, grimacing.
“And so I wait.”