Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

The balance of power teetered on a precipice, and the outcome remained uncertain.

As the stone blade grazed her chest, driven by Jaegar's desperate move, it slashed across Mara's chest, rending her robe apart and grazing down her torso, thereby creating a gaping wound.

The stone blade tore her robe asunder, a horrifying spectacle of shredded flesh and exposed bone played out before them, a sickening and blood-curdling nightmare that twisted the very fabric of reality.

Blood flowed freely, pooling around the nightmarish, gut-wrenching cavity that marred her body. Her insides, now grotesquely visible, elicited a deep sense of dread and horror.

Mara cast her gaze upon the grievous wound, a grim expression flickering across her face, before turning her gaze towards Jaegar, who staggered, barely standing.

As she glanced at him,her face contorted into a chilling, sinister, and malevolent smile twisted upon her lips.

Behind her, the monstrous face bore a menacing, soul-shaking grin—a visage of unparalleled horror and lethal intent that surpassed even Jaegar's darkest experiences in the sinner's domain. It loomed ominously, a terrifying apparition.

Suddenly she let out a laugh, which made the ground shake with light tremors.

Amidst her maddening laughter, Mara's words dripped with an ominous allure, "You truly didn't disappoint me. And now I am starting to like you." Her voice carried an eerie tone, her intentions veiled in unknown terror, "but you have to die now."

With a sudden shift in the atmosphere, a vacuum-like force tugged at everything, including Jaegar, pulling him towards Mara before crushing him to the ground. And abruptly, the ground quaked violently, and an unknown amount of mighty force pressed Jaegar into the ground.

Her sword, now drenched in blood, arced towards the earth, releasing a massive burst of red energy that hurtled directly at Jaegar, an image so harrowing and terrifying that it froze the very soul.

Lying prone on the ground, Jaegar stared at the woman who held his imminent death in her hands. Her eyes bore no intent to kill but exuded a mysterious and haunting depth that surpassed the most harrowing fears. Despite the impending doom, he felt no anger towards her. A smile hung on his lips as he watched her. He didn't want to give up yet, but he had no energy left in him to fight further.

His internals were a mess, and the wounds seemed severe. If this fight were to continue any longer, he would die for sure.

As he was stuck to the ground, helplessly watching the woman take his life, suddenly a bright light engulfed the whole forest area, and then the attack that Mara sent towards Jaegar was landed on the empty ground.

BOOM!

There was dust everywhere, and it was night, they couldn't see much. the men were eager to find out what happened to Jaegar. They didn't see anyone who could last against their leader this long.

But Mara knew that attack hadn't connected, her frown deepened as she watched the dust settle.

She saw a few figures revealing themselves as the dust settled, one of them was holding Jaegar, she was Evanore.

And the woman who stood ahead of her were the witches of the spire, the council witches. Among them, Yasmine took the lead.

Yasmine, a figure of respected leadership among the council witches, stood forth, her gaze fixated upon Mara, who held a presence that veiled both fear and a history untold.

Jaegar lay unconscious, his form weakened by the toll of blood loss. An air of calamity gripped the room, its tendrils weaving a tale of imminent dread.

"Mara, what's the meaning of this?" inquired Yasmine. With a knowing stare, she recognized the ominous figure behind Mara, a being of pure malevolence.

She couldn't believe her eyes, it was an abomination, a diabolical existence. But to add to that, the woman in front of the creature was even more terrifying. Her eyes were filled with a darkness that seemed to consume everything around her, and her every movement exuded a sense of power and control.

Mara D'Ottaviya, a name forgotten by many but known to the very few who knew her tale of darkness and destruction, was once a powerful swordswoman who had turned to the dark arts after a tragic loss.

Born into the royal lineage of the Kraeyelon Kingdom, she had ascended as a prodigious swordswoman. In her formative years, she earned the revered title of "Blade Mistress of Darkhallow," a name whispered across the lands as a herald of prowess. Her father, filled with satisfaction and love, announced a grand event to select a suitor from the many princes who vied for her hand.

Yet, in a display of unyielding strength, she battled each suitor who dared to claim her hand in marriage, emerging victorious in a manner that was viewed as brutal and unyielding.

With each duel, her renown only flourished, expanding her sphere of influence and marking her as an unmatched master of the sword. She was christened "Mara Bloodrend," a title forged from her unparalleled dominance in combat, transforming her into an epitome of unwavering ferocity on the battlefield.

Her parents, revelling in their daughter's burgeoning fame, saw their kingdom aglow with prosperity under her shadow, a beacon of prominence and power.

The kingdom enjoyed a period of prosperity and jubilation as Mara's fame continued to spread, but the tranquilly was short-lived. Unrest brewed within the kingdom when the king announced Mara's ascension to the throne as queen, an announcement that stirred dissent, particularly with Mara's half-sibling from the king's second marriage.

Along with him, a few others voiced their concerns.

But he didn't dare try anything with Mara present, that was how much he feared her.

Seizing an opportune moment when Mara was absent from the kingdom, her half-sibling orchestrated a rebellion, amassing supporters to challenge the king's decree. In a ruthless bid for power, he plotted and executed the king's assassination. Upon Mara's return to the kingdom, she was met with the devastating sight of her parents' untimely demise.

Consumed by grief and an unrelenting rage, Mara confronted her treacherous half-brother, exacting vengeance for the murders of her parents. The ensuing confrontation left the palace in ruins, ravaged by the unstoppable force of Mara's fury.

In the wake of this catastrophic event, she departed from the kingdom, leaving behind a tale that reverberated far and wide, drawing widespread attention and igniting varied emotions in its wake.

In a devastating one-sided assault, Mara unveiled her darker, malevolent side, exhibiting a merciless demeanor as she swiftly eradicated all who had colluded with the treacherous prince.

Her presence was a macabre procession, marked by a haunting trail of blood that seemed to linger in her wake wherever she trod. The very air seemed to resonate with a spectral aura emanating from her, casting an eerie crimson ambience around her form. A ghastly testament to her fearsome prowess, the mere sight of her was enough to evoke terror in the hearts of her adversaries.

Adorned with an enigmatic, blood-stained long sword, the very sight of which sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to face her. This weapon, a formidable extension of her dark power, became an instrument of terror.

Its edge, steeped in the deepest of reds, she called the name "Bloodquench," a title that echoed with a chilling resonance, signifying both its insatiable thirst for blood and the terror it inspired. The sword itself, a malevolent force, seemed to embody the very essence of her dominance and the looming threat she posed to any who dared cross her path.

This marked the first appearance of the sinister persona—' Blood Witch Mara.'

Following this ominous event, Mara's whereabouts became a mystery, shrouded in secrecy for several years until her reappearance as the leader of a mercenary group known as the Dark Crescent.

Yasmine, along with the entire council of twelve witches, stood before Mara, who floated in the air, an air of casual defiance about her.

As Mara observed the council, a disapproving click of her tongue conveyed her lack of fear, though she understood that engaging in a direct confrontation with them would only draw out the conflict. Her gaze shifted to Jaegar, and in a loud, resounding voice, she declared, "We will meet again, my dear young man, and I hope you'll be in better shape the next time we cross paths."

The huge, dark creature's face disappeared as she sheathed her long sword. Blood had already stopped flowing out of her slit wound, and she didn't seem even slightly affected by it.