Yukari-chan looked at him. Really looked. And for the first time, something like sorrow crossed her face.
“I’m the last one,” she said quietly. “The last of the White Shadow sect. We were never guards, you know. We were apologies . When a kingdom made a mistake so terrible it could not be undone, they sent one of us to stand in the way of the consequences.”
The queen knelt and placed a fresh cloth doll at the base of the marker. She had made it herself. Poorly. The stitching was crooked, the eyes mismatched. But it was made with love.
Yukari-chan did not dodge the Praetor’s first swing. She un-existed the space where the swing would land. The black glass cleaver passed through empty air that, a moment before, had contained her shoulder. Then she was inside his guard, Shirokage tracing a line up his breastplate.
“You’re mad,” he snarled.
Five guards. Five names etched into legend.
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