Eáránë bucked at her daughter. The merchant again tried to pull the crazed Princess from the Queen’s chest. Once more he was pushed off, thirteen...years of controlled rage had been released. The shard cut into Gilraen’s hand as she swiped it again across her mother, this time into her throat. Blood spurted, coating her. From far away, Gilraen heard shouts and screams. Footsteps and cries of anguish bounced to and fro in her head. A grip, unlike any she’d felt before came down like a vise around. Pill popped, alcohol consumed, what was left to do? Hit the dance floor. And dance we did. Bodies pulsing, pulses racing, limbs flailing, hard grinding, and strange tattoos. Everywhere I looked people had beautiful designs circling faces, enhancing eye bone structure, decorating necks and shoulders. Intricate circles, spirals, tribal markings, animals, insects, simple lines, floral patterns. In blues, and reds, blacks, every color in the rainbow in some. Haylie was unmarked though, which lead. More

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