Role

Chapter 1

Headmistress of Balator Orphanage


It had a nice ring to it. However, it fell short in the grand scheme of
things for Ophelia. She herself was once an orphan who dared to dream. A
child who lost fragments of her humanity with every abusive act she endured.
Looking back on her bleak childhood did not cause her pain anymore- but
rather great elation. She had risen out of the murk and the mud- becoming
everything the now deceased headmistress told her she could not become.


Beauty? She was that and then some, her feral features adding to both her
allure and the demise of others. Letting curiosity plop them right in her
clutches.


Charisma? She had that-being an orphan gave her a lot of time to study the
mannerisms of others. As she was deemed non-existent for much of her life, it
granted her an empty canvas to paint an image of who exactly she was. She
learned of politics from the sultan politicians who seemed to fancy the young
flesh of forgotten children. She read voraciously- recognizing that wit and
intellect was her true key to freedom and power.


Faith? Her faith was steadfast and her fervor unyielding. She understood her
place in the world and the place of others both beneath and above her. They
all played their part. The difference between her and many of them was that
her role was ever changing-as her appetite for power and beauty in
civilization grew. Whispers permeated through Balator coming from the
directions of the imperial lands. A new God- who understood the intricacies
of wit, charisma, and the importance of sociopolitical structures. Perhaps
this God was destined for her as much as she was for them. Only time would
tell-