Whispers. They were all around her. Twisting and turning as they tightened around her throat. Like Vines the harsh tiny echoes choked her. Blood filled her mouth and the taste of copper overtook all her other senses. She tried to cough it up, to stop the sure death that awaited, but her body would not obey.

Her limbs were frozen, her eyes would not open, all she could feel was the tight hold of the whispers and the pool of blood in her mouth. Panic. She wanted to scream. She wanted to thrash. She wanted to fight back!

The whispers held her in place. They tried to soothe her. They cradled her even as the blood spilled to her cheeks and stained her pale skin a deep blue.

"Sleep now. There is more to come. Sleep now." The voice was familiar, kind. She relented.

The mystic let the whispers overtake her. She was gone.

The people mourned. Her body was laid to rest. She would decompose, and her life would live on in the gardens that grew above. Azaleas, Sei had promised. She would live on in beauty.

Her possessions remained mostly untouched. Her weapons were returned to the armory. Her room was a sanctuary. All was in its place. All, except one item.

The glove had been searched for. Threats had been made for its return. Yet, no one came forward. It seemed a trivial thing, only she had harnessed its power, she alone could use it. And yet--

There was an unease in the mind of Sei Orlouge as he lay his daughter to rest, her arm bare for the first time in years.