It was over almost as quickly as it had begun.

And her brother, scorned for so long, was the one to thank for her life. Oh, how she hated him for the debt that he had placed her in! But that emotion was nothing to the surprise that filled her as a horned, equine-shaped light nods to her in thanks, not to Paladin, who was truly the hero of the situation, though she would not admit as much. A small orb of light flickered through the darkness, coming to rest upon a feather in her mane, and for a moment, she felt as though someone had dumped frigid water on her spine. The feeling passed as quickly as it arrived; the spirit galloped into the night, leaving them with only the glow of the algae along the shoreline and the newfound luminance from the jackal’s feather.

It was an odd sensation, and the knowledge of her actions did not fully register until Paladin’s voice cut through the night. Trapping spirits? The thought was met with an indignant snort, for what creature would dare to trap the ghosts of the superior race? If it were true, then she had done the right thing by the star now tangled in her banner, and perhaps there was a bit of satisfaction in the deed. There would be time to consider later, however; for the time being, she simply nodded to Paladin’s instructions and joined him in an attempt to trample the monster’s back, though she thought it a rather pointless exercise, as the beast seemed quite dead to her.

There was not hard cracks emanating from her hooves, and it was quite eerie to realize that she had broken bones on accident, without realizing what she had done. She had always been in control, before, always known the murders that she committed. Of course, self defense was not murder, and she wouldn’t really care either way, but she was oddly touched by the spirit clinging to her banner now, oddly possessive of its former owner, and she wanted desperately to punish the squishy creature bleeding beneath her hooves.

Perhaps it was overkill, but the Empress rose again and again, bringing her weight down on the beast’s back. A different curse rings out, disguised as a snort, with each pounding thump of her hooves. You will not take what is not yours, her actions seemed to say. You will not attack me, and you will not attack my brethren, for they deserve better than your evil killing. Finally, she backs away, watching warily for signs of movement. ”Do you think it’s dead?” And for once, there is no trace of hatred or sarcasm in it.

"Talk talk talk."