Slowly, she awakens. Yawns. Stretches. Opens her eyes and take a long, deep breath.
The stench remains: rancid flesh, decayed heart, still festering wounds. Shattered pieces of soul remain where they fell, a field of diamonds sparkling beneath the sun.
A warrior, she stands amid the chaos; her gaze wanders from one broken seam to the next.
Her body quakes as an enraged roar echoes, shattering what is left of the standing wall; tears mingle with the wreckage.
She is alive. She still breathes. Battered and bruised; standing once more. She is ready. Oh, she could beg for the battle; for the release of the beast within. For retribution.
How could she have slept for so long? Allowing the demons control. How could she have locked herself behind the walls, in a lifeless slumber of denial as her very essence was stolen and desecrated at her feet.
She shakes free of the questions. They matter no more. The blame is not hers to own.
She has awakened.
She is broken. Ragged. Torn and wrecked, but she stands tall and proud.
Her smile shines and green eyes shimmer. She listens to the beat of her heart – to the warrior’s cry within.
Yes, she is broken. She will never be the goddess she was born. She will be mightier. She will be ferocious. She will be …