The spell

The armor hidden under a dark green cloack, the long blond hairs gathered in a pony-tail, suck a contrast with the dark eyes. It was my first real fight. We had known each other since we were children, we had been ignoring each other for all that time long. I just knew she was much skilled than me, in the art of magic more than with the sword.

It was all settled. I was supposed to lose, the slave was supposed to die. Probably I was just lucky enough to find the right spot between the armor plates to wound her before she managed to cast her spell. I won, I saved that slave, gaining not just his life but his freedom. Everthing was perfect, and I was rejoicing for my success.

We met again. I wonder if she had been planning it all the time long or it was just by chance. She had left the sword and the armor behind, not the green cloack. That time her spell got me. She didn't hit me badly, I wasn't even sure she did anything when I felt the diziness of her magic on me. I discover her spell only after a while, fighting against an other opponent, feeling what he was feeling. Since then, every time I hit someone, I hit myself. If I lose the fight, I lose; if I win, I lose. If my opponent is injured, I'm injured worse.

I wonder where is she now. Last time I had some news she was recovering froma really bad fight. The higher you climb, the more you can fall down. I wonder if after all these years the spell she casted can be removed, can be overpowered by a new healing one