Dancing the Warrior, Pt. II

Anger gave Sen cold focus, but it made Leksen crazy. She sidestepped his first wild blow and got in a solid kidney punch that made him howl; he grabbed her arm and slugged her in the stomach. Sen snarled that away and clawed his face, leaving bloody furrows down his cheek. It wasn't a Dance of any kind, but she didn't care. It was her sacrifice to the Warrior. Either he was going down, or she was.

Memories of Her

I take one stone hand in the other and unscrew it. Inside my hollow wrist is a padded pocket. A mantis scuttles out, tethered to me by a chain as fine as hair but stronger than anything I could name. It scurries up my arm, across my cheek, and props on the tip of my nose. “Time now,” it clicks. “You go.”

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Love, Resurrected

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Three years after her death, she still labored in his service.
From the Archives:
She is the voice of the king, until he cannot speak for himself.