{{{…impressive…}}}
The word came with warmth and weight, unlike the hissing whispers of the battlefield. Unlike the roars of demi gods and dragons echoing through the blood-soaked winds.
Another voice followed it. Familiar. Feminine. Intimate.
Claire's gut twisted.
No, not now. Not again…
Her feet slid on shattered glass and molten ash beneath her boots as she staggered forward through the broken terrain. Her ribs ached. Her knuckles were cracked. Her vision blurred—but that voice. That voice curled inside her bones like it had always lived there.
She snarled. "I'm not your filly in the rub, princess woman. I am the Claire….Claire Von Phinixia …..So fuck off."
{{{Hahahaha…Claire, you haven't changed.}}}
Laughter like bells in a graveyard. Soft and cruel and full of memory.
Claire blinked rapidly. Her blood was still singing from the last fight. Her mind still caught in the echo of metal on bone. But now—
