I let out a deep sigh, unable to find sleep this night. For most, this would make sense seeing how it's my birthday. But I have long since ceased to care for, or even really notice, this day. It's been 170 years, or something close to that, since being exiled to this place after all.

My family, the Royal House Delaine of Morhaine, has trapped me within this Great Temple of Morashir, the Goddess of Wisdom who has blessed our kingdom. A bit ironic, seeing as how I once served as her champion and have now been reduced to a false High Priestess to cover up my monstrous fate. To think that I once stood before the ancient Archlich Thazukil in order to defend my kingdom, facing this dire threat as a 14 year old girl, only to be reviled by that same kingdom for doing my duty.

Of course, I don't exactly blame them for doing so, seeing as how the Archlich's last act was to curse me with the "Brand of Immortality," so that I would "suffer the same eternity I took from him," but to have my father send assassins to try and remove the taint that has infested his house? The blades they plunged into me hurt less than knowing I had been so greatly betrayed, and finding that fatal wounds no longer had an effect on me truly made me realize the extent of the Archlich's curse.

Thus, I was stuffed into this temple dedicated to the Goddess who abandoned me after my fight with the Archlich, forced into the role of High Priestess to spout the empty prayers the people who shunned me took so much comfort in. Time has never stopped its progress, leaving me perpetually stuck in the body of a child while the Kingdom of Morhaine forgets my sacrifice, turning the myths of my actions into an even greater monster than Thazukil himself. The stupid, ignorant rabble don't even possess the intelligence to realize their beloved High Priestess is that very Tainted Heir of Morhaine. I could expose myself, but I'll admit, it does my little heart good to secretly rule over the hearts of the people who have so easily turned me into a story to scare children.

Of course, this position does come with more than its fair share of annoyance, like my trusted handmaiden Yuriel walking into my room at the dead of night to say "High Priestess, I beg your pardon, but the Crown Princess is here to speak with you about an urgent matter. She refused to tell me any more, but I believe it's likely related to Festival of Scholars."

A sneer creeps across my face, glad I have been unable to find sleep this night. Taking out my frustration on that stupid twit Evelynn might make me forget the hatred roiling deep inside me, or at least appease it just a little.