Somewhere above the world, in patient ink, her class had already written it: the Villain and his justicar.
A road that did not end at the top of any ladder, because it did not end at all.
The emptiness was still there. But it had stopped being a wall and become room.
Room for the work, for the creed, and, apparently, for this pack of lunatics currently pretending they weren't all watching her cry.
Iris scoffed, wet and unconvincing, and looked away from all of them. "Take your hand off. I'm not a pet."
The hand stayed.
She did not move to remove it.
Her eyes were streaming freely now, and the smile had gotten past every guard she owned. She stood there scowling through both, a demon of vengeance leaking in front of the entire peerage of Vraven, radiantly, furiously happy.
"Iris!"
Armored weight hit her from the side.
