uninvited guests

Jan 16, 2007 09:09



Kusanagi was in his hand even before his eyes had opened from deep meditation.

Someone approached the Walls.

And it was not someone he knew.

Arrows of thought pierced the illusion of space.

Serene in a robe of black, stark against the snows, the Adept stood before the Gates a lone defender.

sword of the morning

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