The sword slipped between her ribs and the boning in her corset, only to be quickly withdrawn leaving a swift burning arc in its wake as she folded in on herself and sank to the floor, deep crimson blossoming from the pale muslin.
The sharp chime of boot heals on the once rich marble rang through the hall as the dark man moved on, leaving her in the slowly growing pool as the warmth fled.
Like an echo in the night the old words swelled forth...
Bonds of Blood
Bound by Blood
Hand and Foot
And at the Root
A hundred years
A thousand more
What now we mourn
Shall be reborn...
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