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A way... a path to light and to dancing breezes and the smell of fires and starlight on damp grass instead of dusted stone and cold memory.
Tasa looked at Malris' outstretched hand, taking in every detail from the small scars that came to every fighter in his life to the faded light that shone dully upon his fingernails. She looked at her own, the long white fingers streaked with blood, the gouges in her palms still oozing slightly. She looked up at him mournfully, with dead eyes and pale cheeks. A single black feather lay tangled within her long blonde locks.
"No." Her voice echoed dully against the grey walls, lost into the shadow that kept them.
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