She stood, wrestling with her own will. That hatred she felt before wasn’t just from Malice. That was malice itself. I am not Malice. I am Mercy. Forcibly, she changed the nature of her willpower. She changed her own intentions. To the arrow, she silently whispered, This is a necessary death. We’re cutting out a cancer. To the bow, she said, We are the ruler, so let’s defend our subjects. To herself, she said, This isn’t an act of malice. It’s an act of mercy. Though it took only an instant, she felt her power subtly change. She couldn’t control it easily—in fact, she felt like a toddler
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