When the guards came for her in the morning she realized that hair had begun to grow on her head for the first time in years. She remembered the shadow of hair on Conscience Morro's head before he died; she remembered the way she used to twirl her curls around her finger when she was very young.
They bound her hands in red cord, red like the fire that had taken the moth and would soon take her. And then she was led down endless halls, her brown cloak billowing behind her and dropping dust to the floor.
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Mercy (Short Story)
FantasíaConscience Astin was unaccustomed to staring Justice in the face. She had worked alongside it all her life, sent helpless souls into its unforgiving hands-but she had never faced it as she now did. She had been taught to expect that this day would...
