Dragoncrest Cliffs the girl has always been half goddess, half hell

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An uneven breath tears itself from Eske’s lips as Wildfire stutters to explain and slowly the Cheka lowers her head as Wildfire confirms what Eske has believed the sharp crunching noise to mean. One of the children were dead; and though she may not have been the one to make the strike to kill the frail infant she had been the cause of it and guilt roiled in her stomach, weighing heavily upon her like a thick blanket. “I’m sorry,” Eske couldn’t remember uttering those words before in her life (perhaps she has, perhaps she hasn’t) but her grief is evident in the choke of her words as she struggle to give sound to them. “If I wouldn’t have —” Eske bites her tongue lightly because it doesn’t much matter what she shouldn’t have done. A child is dead and she has played her role in it indirectly. “I shouldn’t have startled you.” It will never make up for the fact that she set off a chain of events that ended with the death of a helpless child. The Cheka’s ears lay flat against her skull. “I’ll — I’ll go.” Her curiosity around the babes is gone, utterly ruined by the death of the one. They have lost the enchantment they had begun to take for the young Drakru and now she wants to be and stay as far away from them as she can physically get within the confines of Drageda.

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