Silver Moraine Sitting here in the afternoon,

As he moved in slow motion, dropping the pale body at his feet, she considered bidding for his approval, though it was quickly made abundantly clear that there would be no talking her way out of this.

Ilse was a skilled mercenary — or so she had thought.

Wylla had passed down everything she knew, but there was only so much that Ilse could take in without having experienced the threat of fate unknown. Her life had never been in danger in her mother's hands.

The shadow's power went uncontested. The heft of his weight fell upon her while what training she had been graciously gifted evaporated from her skull. She turned every ounce of survivalist violence she had against the leg that bore down on her ribcage, teeth flashing desperately in the darkness of the cave.