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zg_shadows"I can make you perfect," he said.
He was the High King's companion, an ex-Leech, a possible Wyrm-servant, and entirely untrustworthy. Beyond him the impenetrable blackness of the Wyrm rose up against the sky, devouring the light, and the grass turned brown and brittle beneath her feet. The ranks of the warriors they had brought with them were reaped and fell like corn.
"Do it," she said.
She was perfect.
She spread her wings and rose in a lazy spiral, screaming defiance at the impossible leviathan that loomed above her. Sunlight glanced off one of the breastplates that littered this place of massacre, blindingly bright, and then suddenly exploded outwards. At her word the sun fell to earth and burned. The Wyrm screamed, and she knew it could die.
She was perfect.
The High King's leeches took the Wyrm's blows. It dared not touch her. She screamed at it again, and it froze in place, in terror of her.
Robin spun and stabbed, and the Sept Klaive of Bodmin dripped black blood. He stumbled on the recoil, and her heart splintered within her, because Robin never stumbled.
She was perfect.
Fire shattered the heavens, and spears of pure sunlight drove the Wyrm away from her husband, her world. It struck out blindly, and its blows reflected from the leech who stood so stalwart before it, ripping vast gashes in its own hide.
She was perfect.
The Great Beast's anger exploded out in fire and venom, and Scythe fell. But it could not touch her, as she twisted down through the chaotic thermals, changing as she dived, to alight as human at Rob's side. The stalwart leech fell. The others were gouging and ripping at the Wyrm's flanks and eyes. The High King dispatched some leech who had managed to break through the lines that defended this battle. His companion, eyes wide and desperate, made a twisting gesture. It didn't matter. She was per-
She was not perfect. Her breath caught in sudden agony. The flesh down her left side was charred, through into muscle. Beside her Robin made a choking noise, deep in his throat. The fingers twined with hers tightened, and bone rubbed with a sickening scrape against bone.
They weren't winning this battle. The only question was how far they would lose.
There was still a chance to walk away. A chance to survive. A chance for a life together, before the world sank into darkness. Fifty years, to grow old in each other's arms. And maybe the world would survive. It wasn't impossible.
She couldn't breathe. Her own tears burned against her skin. She turned her head to meet Robin's gaze, his twisted, painful half-smile the twin of her own. She closed her eyes. Nodded.
Seven minds chose.
The world exploded in fire.
He was the High King's companion, an ex-Leech, a possible Wyrm-servant, and entirely untrustworthy. Beyond him the impenetrable blackness of the Wyrm rose up against the sky, devouring the light, and the grass turned brown and brittle beneath her feet. The ranks of the warriors they had brought with them were reaped and fell like corn.
"Do it," she said.
She was perfect.
She spread her wings and rose in a lazy spiral, screaming defiance at the impossible leviathan that loomed above her. Sunlight glanced off one of the breastplates that littered this place of massacre, blindingly bright, and then suddenly exploded outwards. At her word the sun fell to earth and burned. The Wyrm screamed, and she knew it could die.
She was perfect.
The High King's leeches took the Wyrm's blows. It dared not touch her. She screamed at it again, and it froze in place, in terror of her.
Robin spun and stabbed, and the Sept Klaive of Bodmin dripped black blood. He stumbled on the recoil, and her heart splintered within her, because Robin never stumbled.
She was perfect.
Fire shattered the heavens, and spears of pure sunlight drove the Wyrm away from her husband, her world. It struck out blindly, and its blows reflected from the leech who stood so stalwart before it, ripping vast gashes in its own hide.
She was perfect.
The Great Beast's anger exploded out in fire and venom, and Scythe fell. But it could not touch her, as she twisted down through the chaotic thermals, changing as she dived, to alight as human at Rob's side. The stalwart leech fell. The others were gouging and ripping at the Wyrm's flanks and eyes. The High King dispatched some leech who had managed to break through the lines that defended this battle. His companion, eyes wide and desperate, made a twisting gesture. It didn't matter. She was per-
She was not perfect. Her breath caught in sudden agony. The flesh down her left side was charred, through into muscle. Beside her Robin made a choking noise, deep in his throat. The fingers twined with hers tightened, and bone rubbed with a sickening scrape against bone.
They weren't winning this battle. The only question was how far they would lose.
There was still a chance to walk away. A chance to survive. A chance for a life together, before the world sank into darkness. Fifty years, to grow old in each other's arms. And maybe the world would survive. It wasn't impossible.
She couldn't breathe. Her own tears burned against her skin. She turned her head to meet Robin's gaze, his twisted, painful half-smile the twin of her own. She closed her eyes. Nodded.
Seven minds chose.
The world exploded in fire.
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