10/20/2025, 1:06 AM
make me a slave?the word left her mouth hollow, incredulous.
take my eye?a low sound built in her throat—half laugh, but it died before it could form. she took a slow step forward, then. it is not as threatening as is it pointed—firm. a point being made. she remembered the head she delivered to his feet, seemingly at his command.
surely, the gjalla you know was not so meek. surely you've not forgotten what i am. you think I would come here for that?
it wasn’t anger that fueled her, but confusion thick as mud. everything he said was like striking flint against memory, flashes of light that never quite became fire. pieces she couldn’t fit together—their conflict, his hatred like an old scar reopened—all of this hate when she does not even know the cause.
i don’t know what you think i did,she said at last.
whatever crime you condemn me for isn’t one i recall.there was no malice in it, only tiredness—an exhaustion. tired of running laps around the same unanswered question. what had driven this rift?
you must tell me, sun-eater. the truth—the whole of it. tell me what it is that i’ve done.though she stood with her chin high, there was an unspoken thread in her voice—a plea, faint but real. not for forgiveness, but for clarity. for something to make sense of in the storm of her thoughts.
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