![]() She watched him move with assured slowness. Present it to her brother so he could keep it as a trophy and warning to others who would dare question his reign. She could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to be the one to take her head. Annwyl raised her sword, clasping the handle in both bloody hands, and waited for the next attack. But she’d fight as long as she had breath in her body. Her vision hazy, she felt weaker and lighter. Her life’s blood drained from her body and she knew her time grew short. But she never allowed them an easy path to the killing blow. They had handily disposed of her small band of warriors without much trouble once they had them backed into this desolate glen. ![]() His blood slashed across her face and arm. The steel sang through the air as it swiped through the man, separating his head from his neck. She raised her blade and, with a cry of pure bloodcurdling fury, swung it. The soldier smiled at her cry of pain, which only brought out the telltale rage Annwyl had become famous for. The blade entered Annwyl’s side, ripping through armor and flesh and tearing through organs. ![]()
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