A convict with a thirst for revenge, a sharpshooter who can't walk away from a wager, a runaway with a privileged past, a spy known as the wraith, a heartrender using her magic to survive the slums, a thief with a gift for unlikely escapes, a ballet...
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"I fell hard in your arms tonight, it was nice, I died in your arms tonight, I slipped through into the afterlife, it was nice, white light in your arms tonight, I lost sight in your arms tonight, it was nice."
— Arms Tonite, Mother Mother.
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Elara's laughter echoed around the house as she followed her daughter, limping slightly from the wound in her thigh. She pushed open door after door, following the obvious trail her daughter had left. There was nobody who knew her daughter better than her, she made her, she taught her everything she knew. It was like playing against herself, all her moves already calculated and precise and she knew how to undermine each one.
