Dec 7, 2013
Before Hazel had a chance to react, a girl stepped out of the smoke. Blood and soot covered her face, staining what looked to be fair-colored skin. Around her, she wore a torn cloak, the color of freshly drawn blood. Underneath her cloak Hazel could see glimpses of silver armor, dented and charred. The girl’s eyes, a rare dark blue—the color of the evening sky—held no emotion in them. There was only emptiness, as if she’d watched as the universe was born and stood there as it burned beneath her feet. She had the eyes of someone who’d seen more bloodshed than any war could produce.
The Red Archer