WESSEX
the wraith
“That’s how it feels,” Wessex hisses darkly, taking another step forward to loom over the cowering Outlander. “Eight gods and heralds to two. Outnumbered on every side.” Even when it came to demigods, they had herself and Nate, really. Versus Remi and Ronin. And knowing what she knows now, she’s well aware the odds still aren’t in their favor. They never will be. So she ought to start evening them out. It’s a brutal jump. But war is full of hard choices and the Wraith always swore she’d make them. It would be one less set of talons to rake across someone’s face. One less spying eye in the sky. One less mouthy bitch in Haulani. She pulls the nightmares back and glances down at the Attuned with a single command, backed up by a pitiless steel-blue gaze.
"Run.”
It’s the illusion of the opportunity to get away that counts, right?
she's pullin' the trigger
cause it's me and the moon, she says
and i have no trouble with that
