Series: The Rusted Blade
The forest lay in perfect stillness around her, the bodies of the beasts she had slain strewn haphazardly all about. She stood, head tilted forward, listening for the next attack. It never came. She held the sword aloft, the blue raging flames towering over her. No sign of rust remained anywhere on that ancient blade. Instead, there was only perfect, blue-satin steel.
Malika’s body trembled, both from emotion and exertion. Her chest heaved as she sucked in huge lungfuls of air. Sweat poured from her body, soaking through her blouse and leggings. She posed the figure of the mythic destroyer there in the darkness, lit only by blue flamelight. She stood there for several long moments.
And then, as if a spell had been broken, the flames chuffed out and she collapsed to her knees, weeping. All the pain and fury, grief and anguish she had contained before, that had fueled her need to fight and exterminate, tried to flee her body all at once, and she felt as though the surge of emotion might be the end of her.