She moves – and the Vagrant drives the sword into her unarmoured chest, too quick for screams. Blue shines from within, lighting ribs, stilling limbs. From a slack fist, two coins roll drunkenly and fall over. The Vagrant rests his head against the pommel, squeezing his eyes shut. A beat after, an eye closes. Carefully, the Vagrant slips the blade free and sheaths it. He arranges the Hammer’s arms across her chest and retrieves the coins. For a long time he stares at them. Finally he taps them together and they sing, a two part requiem. When they are finished, the Vagrant slips one under her
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