“Dakshana, please,” Minka said. She approached cautiously, hands held out, as if to placate a wild animal.
Dakshana brandished the crystal. “No. Stay back. I won’t let any of you touch me. You did this to me!” All of them had done it - Ashoken’s widow, the elders, letting him experiment with the shadow-beings, letting him kill her parents. And then they’d just stood by and watched her struggle to survive alone. If they’d watched, if they’d cared - she wouldn’t have been tainted with this magic, with the runes dancing up her spine, in her blood.
Her blood. Dripping. Dripping.
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