She is a nurse in training, brother. A fine, upstanding citizen of the World's Edge. A mother and lover to someone lost far beyond these tentative territory borders. In the snow, overcast by flakes that glitter with the reflection of mine own glowing eyes, she appears half gone already. For yes, soon she will be gone.

She is not even finished speaking when I slowly continue my advance. My head turns downward, innocently and without any sort of suspicious lilt, but my heart surges and my mind reels with the anticipation of the kill. What a splendid day this is to be, my brother! Today, the day where the whole world will stop for this foolish, lone mare.

She will end, and with her final, bated breath, her last grasp at life, she will help me start a war. If, that is, I succeed. But how, I think, can this fail? I have at my disposal so much more than many others of my age. I am almost unknown, certainly by those of the World's Edge; only once have Mirage and Rishima seen me, but we left wordlessly, showing them nothing of my true form. Now, as the fire spikes along your back and you draw closer, closer to her, I feel no fear of the consequences. We will crush her, defeat her in every manner we might, and in the lines of her blood, we will write a message for her kin.

"A shame," I say, the mere whisper of my voice sounding powerful even now as it resounds in the cold air, "they won't ever hear your kind voice again."

It is strange, I think, that these are too be my last words to her. For after all, do I even care of what happens to her kin? No, I tell myself, I tell you—as long as they believe the story woven in the tears of her flesh. I care not for their aching loss. Your body rises instinctively, matching the grace of my upwards movement and headed for her like a ball of fire. You leap forth, taking care to heed my instructions and leave no tears upon her unmarred coat. Your fire hungers as you aim to weave over and about her, burning flesh as I instruct.

And all in that very same moment, my wings unfurl in a fury of flame and power, revealing my majesty. My head is tossed up, up, and towards the sky—with a long and dangerous horn, I aim for the tender jugular vein. Let her die by fire and blood, my brother. Let her feel our force until we crush the very life from her weak and mortal soul.

Let her die today.

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