❛power isn't everything. it's the only thing.❜
[complete]
wattys 2018 winner ❧
Lin is a hunter, one of the magically enhanced witch slayers that roam a flooded world. Under the laws of four Kings and Greymark, who rules them all, Lin is unto...
"ORION : You are beautiful when you are murderous. You have the skin of your enemies between your teeth and their pleadings under your nails and you look like a burning pyre. A silence. Pure. Purifying."
―Pauline Albanese
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The last door locked. There was no escape. Not for any of them. Lin slid her lock picks into her pocket and leaned against the wall. She swept her gaze over the decadent room. Forty-three heads. Twenty of them needed to die, though she couldn't imagine any of the others would survive.
A waiter drifted past her with his empty tray. He stopped, frowning at the closed door. He was young, maybe a couple years older than Lin herself, with wavy brown hair and freckles. His purple uniform had a sheen to it that complemented the gold buttons.
He yanked on the handle. Once, twice. Then, he sighed and muttered something to himself before turning toward a bored, burly guard.
Lin was right behind him in two long strides. She settled her hand on his shoulder, pulling his irate attention toward her. As soon as his light brown eyes focused, she pulled her push dagger from her belt, settled it between her fingers, and punched him twice in the ribs.
The waiter's eyes widened. He coughed, lung already collapsing, and his knees buckled. Lin yanked the knife out of him, her knuckles slick with blood.
Before the guard had a chance to register what had just happened, Lin walked up to him and swung her arm high. The knife swept through his arteries only to snag on his windpipe. An arc of brilliant red sprayed over Lin's face and jacket. White marble sculptures turned a spattered pink behind her.
The guard had enough breath in him to give a strangled scream. Lin ended that with an unceremonious jerk, crunching through the cartilage.
Of course, that was exactly when everyone noticed.
The first few screams echoed in Lin's head, pinging behind her eyes. They finally awakened her sluggish sigils. A surge of hot energy coursed through her arms and jittered in her fingers, accompanied by the itch of silver writhing under her skin.
Her senses sharpened into a needle.
Lin left her push dagger in the guard's neck and kicked him over, letting his body thud against the floor. She unholstered her gun. The few guards that had been stationed in the room were woefully incompetent, likely expecting a quiet gig. Only four of them, to boot. Their eyes were dinner plates and they shook as they aimed low-capacity handguns at her. They looked like antiques.
She puffed a lock of hair that had come loose from her braid out of her face and leveled her own weapon at them.
One of the guards fired first. The bullet grazed her upper arm, ripping through her father's jacket. It didn't really hurt beyond a slight burn as her sigils leapt to repair it. She groaned and glared at the offending man. Sure, it'd already been ruined by arterial spray, but a bullet hole is another matter entirely.
