CHAPTER TWENTY
NIGHT BROODED ON THE throne of bones. The space between her eyebrows scrunched tight, and a scowl carved lines into the planes of her face, despite her efforts to turn that frown upside down. Once she wrested her full power back from those who'd stolen it, she'd forestall aging, slowing down cellular damage and decay — or trade this body in for a newer model. But for now, this shell was all she had, and it was still fragile, as was her hold on it.
She shifted in the uncomfortable atrocity of a chair, disgruntled at the former owner's choice of decor. She appreciated the aesthetics, with its carvings of righteous creatures contorted in agony, being punished for their judgment of the wicked, but the execution was lacking finesse. The contours bordered on self-castigation. An
