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.

Then something hit her jaw, snapping her head around with a crack.
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.”

My hand is seamed with quartz and gravel. No fingernails now, only the squares I scratched there for some reason I’ve long since forgotten.
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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.