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Now fully powered up, he flew up high above the city where no one could see him, then turned and rocketed straight down, using his wings to augment the speed of his descent. As with his fight against the wolf fiend during the Red Revelry, he adjusted his trajectory at the last moment, curving his descent. His enemy raised his shield, putting everything he had into his defense, but Roc’s power was too great. He kicked the man’s shield with all the magical and kinetic force he could muster, striking like a meteorite. His enemy resisted valiantly, but his footing gave way, and Roc smashed him into the ground, carving a trench through the earth before slamming him against the wall of the arena. Brick and mortar cracked like so many bones, and the man went limp with blood dripping from his mouth.

Once she’d finally found a good spot, she remembered what she was trying to do. Slowly and steadily, she brought her hand up and over his chest, the light sheet rippling above her the only thing keeping them from the warm autumn night. Again, she brought it down past the end of the hair on his belly and only stopped once she felt that rough patch of hair just above his groin. With only the moon filtering through the sheet above she could barely make it out as she peered over her dad’s waist. Short and curly, much curlier than his armpit hair, pitch-black, though most of his hair was with only a bit of grey poking through.

You’re still here because you’re strong, maybe not strong enough to win, but strong enough to live. How many knights and soldiers can say that? How many people in history do you think have clawed their way through the mud, gnashing their teeth and howling in pain, all for that little victory? You being here, after all that bloodshed and horror, is an accomplishment you shouldn’t dismiss.”