Page 49 of The Ballad of a Bard

It seems you want proof.

Fine, I’ll give it to you.

Where oh where, would those darling

blades of yours go, Red Lyric?

C.

T he letter had been left on her pillow, on her side of the bed in an ominous way. She scrambled towards West’s desk, towards the drawer that she’d kept them in. Her hands fumbled for the golden hoop that pulled it out. She yanked it hard, harder than she truly needed but she didn’t care. Her heart was a mess of anticipation, nerves and horror as she stared down into the drawer. Terror and sweat licked down her spine, coated her skin and danced in between her clammy fingers.

Where her fighting knives, Red Lyric’s daggers had been, remained the empty bag. No sign of smoky steel, no scarlet handles, nothing.

The bells began to chime in tragedy .

She heard the whispers from the opened door.

Someone killed Osira.

The Empress, she’s been murdered!

Muse is gone.

Crimson knew then, that her whole world had been turned upside down. Because her blades were missing, and the Empress was dead. The entire Empire called for her head and she knew that Altivar would stop at nothing to get it.