Cavalon

Her laugh breaks through the silence, permeating through the broken castle filling the space left behind bty the settling dust. She walks over and around bloodstained stones, cracked glass splintering underneath her mud covered slippers. Broken armor and swords lie on the ground forgotten in the pandemonium. She twists her ankle on a golden object. Looking down, she picks it up and places it triumphantly on her head. She strides toward the intact throne. Sitting down, she surveys the room, the palace, the utter destruction she has wrought: her time has come. Fate had prophesied her downfall, her death, but even fate can be wrong. Even fate can be changed. She closes her eyes and revels in her victory. Her reign has begun, and this time, there is no one to get in her way.