[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/PVzDjEH.png[/img]

[h2][color=goldenrod]Flavia Astra[/color][/h2][/center]

Flavia watched Lorn go, only feeling worse. [color=goldenrod]"You're wrong."[/color] She whispered to the empty air. [color=goldenrod]"I have no light. I never had any 'light'. No magic. No strength."[/color] She looked down at the book in her hand. Strange. It was blurry. [color=goldenrod]"I'm weak. Just a screwup. I've always been a screwup."[/color] She gazed lifelessly over the books and bits of paper filled with wonderous magic that she couldn't grasp. All motivation gone, evaporated like mist before the sun.

What was the point? How many years has it been? How many days how many hours had she spent, pouring every ounce of herself into learning and mastering the art of magic that came so easily to so many others? Only for her 'light' to slip away. But, this was her fate, after all. Her destiny. It has been since before she was born.

She let the book slip from her fingers. It landed with a muted thud. She was tired. So tired. With a careless sweep of her arm, she scattered the fragments of her research. It didn't matter anyway. She was too tired. She crossed her arms and laid her head down. A nap, then. 

An Escape.