A golden mask sat upon her face, primitive but embossed with whorls and patterns so ancient they’d lost all meaning. Water sluiced down her clothes, her hair had been ripped from its braid, and in her hand, clenched there … A kelpie’s head dangled by its sheet of black hair, torn-up face frozen in a scream. Exactly as the King of Hybern’s head had hung from her hand.
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