Kyrin crouched down behind a tall stone crypt and readied her flail
in her hand. Her breathing was slow and steady. It wasn’t the first
time she’d been attacked, nor the first time she’d had to spill blood
because of her past. She scanned the area around her with big
brown eyes, eyes that darkened to almost black when she was mad.
She was a petite woman, but muscular from years of fighting.
Though magic was her preferred weapon, she wasn’t above using
brute force if necessary. Her long brown hair was tied into a thick
braid that fell down her back and brushed the back of her knees,
and a thin scar ran along the side of her face.
She was beautiful, but hid behind lowered hoods and kept to the
shadows. She took offense to being thought of or called beautiful.
In her world, beauty was something that could easily get you killed
and most who flaunted it were brainless and dim-witted. Beautiful
women were sold as wives or bartered for the lives of the family.