“ The Angel of Death had sworn retribution, and she wasn’t going to stop until she’d killed them all. ”
He was the one for her. She somehow knew that no one could make her feel the way did. Not if she lived for another hundred years.
~ Anam Iqbal
She was floating in the midst of a black sea, in the darkest of nights, with no hope or care to see light again. She was a mere wave away from drowning in blackness.
He darted for her; his blade wielded smooth and steady in front of him. She didn't hold back either; when they joined, their weapons clanked and sparked with an icy rage. They danced around one another; their feet light yet balanced, their arms twisting and turning with every thundering blow they made.
Death was a friend to her; she was unafraid of it: bringing to to others, meeting it herself. And yet, she'd flinched from it today... What was it about that man that she just couldn't let go? Couldn't conquer the part of her heart that had loved him?