Blackfeather Woods my legs refused to walk away

Gods, this was. . .this was a lot. Maegi listened with horror clearly etched into her expression, each word a chill. Cicero's thrall. Like Coelacanth, she had been held here against her will. And now she was sick. She was dying. And it was Cicero's fault--but he would never be held accountable. No, now Relmyna suffered for his sins, and he got away.

A job offer came, too. It was too much all at once. She considered fleeing, but then the question was asked, a query much easier to tackle. A query she had answered before, and would have to answer many more times before her death. She sighed, shifting her weight, the scarred side of her face the part exposed most to Relmyna.

"Skullchaser," Maegi answered. "When I find him, I will kill him." It wasn't a wish, nor yet an item on a bucket list. It was an order to herself, a code by which to live. It would be fulfilled; she would see to it. She became aware, slowly, that the madness of Cicero lie in her orange eye, and turned, so that the Listener saw naught but Melonii indigo.

"Why me?" she asked. "I don't have the pawprint. I don't know all the prayers and rituals. I'm young." She wasn't trying to argue; she was merely curious. Was she the successor for lack of other candidates, or had Relmyna kept her in mind all this time?