It was dark in Barresh when the shuttle landed. Looking out the window, and seeing the glow of lights display familiar streets, eating houses and shops still doing brisk trade, Izramith felt a type of inner calm she hadn’t experienced for a long time. Not since the first season of having joined the guards.
Back then, she’d believed that signing up with the guards meant she belonged somewhere. She wore the uniform happily when the scars on her upper arms were still raw and shiny, but over the years, and especially the past year, that feeling had been slowly stripped back until the certainty that she did not belong with the guards replaced it. Not belonging somewhere wasn’t a life plan, because as much as she didn’t belong with the guards, it left her searching for a place where she did bel
