The blood on your hands can't hide who you really are.
Her eyes were filled with fear as she held on to the ledge, her feet desperately trying to find solid ground. The man on the ledge was wearing a dark fur coat and a big scar hid the fact that he was in serious doubt. He raised his sword, ready to strike. But the lilac glow in her eyes made him reach out his hand instead. She took it and pulled him down as hard as she could, risking her own life. The man lost his balance and fell down into the chasms. His scream pierced the mountain itself, but her smile was full of self esteem. The man who fell down the ledge had paid for his crimes and murders. His victim's souls would be hers forever.
(Sequel to my short writing exercise thanks to
Two steps from Hell)
(Written in Syringa Cross; episode 2 of the web story)
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