The Angel of Death had sworn retribution, and she wasn’t going to stop until she’d killed them all.

This was different, spontaneous, unrestricted. This was what dancing was supposed to feel like - like freedom.

She was floating in the midst of a black sea, in the darkest of nights, with no hope or care to see light again. She was a mere wave away from drowning in blackness.

As he left, he saw the streets were just as deserted and quiet as before, but now he knew it was an illusion. There were ninjas, darker than a starless night, watching their territory and his every move from the rooftops high above.

Death was a friend to her; she was unafraid of it: bringing to to others, meeting it herself. And yet, she'd flinched from it today... What was it about that man that she just couldn't let go? Couldn't conquer the part of her heart that had loved him?