Alody, last of her name, stood between this world and the next.
Her heart sang in a quiet requiem for those that had been lost in the days of Mathura’s fall. Hundreds had died—to be laid out in mass graves because there were not enough people to dig the graves—and she stood with her oppressors at her back.
Yes, her oppressors.
The invaders from Pagoda had taken her captive.
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