Macie felt the shift in the air. It was almost as though something intangible was constricting around her, an invisible set of eyes looking down on her from above.
She was no longer facing a child.
It was always all to easy to forget that Theron was just 15 years old. The way he carried himself, that gentle smile that put even the old at ease, the sharpness in his eyes whenever he decided that he would be serious.
These were all things that seemed far beyond his age.
However, that nagging voice in the back of Macie's mind telling her to be careful was drowned out by all the rage.
Her scythe's blade twisted around her, leaving streaks of foggy chill in its wake. Everything were it passed, cascading sparkles of iced water vapor took shape, falling to the ground in tears of the long forgotten.
Every sprinkle left divots of ice on the ground, a single touching leaching away life and leaving swaths of death and cold in its wake.
