“When they came for me, I was ready. Thanks to Master Davit, so had so kindly made space for me under his wing, I could fight. I had killed him, yes. I mourn him still. But when they came for me, well… I killed again. He taught me how. More important, he taught me why. I slid from stance to stance, struck clean and true where needed. They had a lot to prove, each in his own way, for his own reasons. Me? I had nothing to prove. Nothing but love for my master, who taught me all. None could come against him. None could come against me. I struck, and wept, and soldiered on.” Shyan draws her knees to her chest. Her eyes are rimmed red. “They hunt me still.”
Logan Bright — Works 