(TBA): The Transformation

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.


A beam of blinding white light shot down from a sky thick with clouds, centering on Kym and bathing her in a gentle warmth. Under the intense brightness of the light her sweatpants and rumpled hoodie seemed to lose their color before fragmenting into pieces that disintegrated fully. Her undergarments followed almost instantly but she didn't feel naked at all. There was safety in the light.

Purple and white gossamer ribbons wrapped around her, pressing gently against her skin before solidifying into gloves, boots, and what looked like ceremonial armor. They fit snugly with intricate silver patterning through both the purple and the white pieces. She reveled in this act of becoming. Her hair was twisted into two long braids and something warmer than the light touched her cheeks and forehead, marking her. Slowly, the light from the sky shrunk down to the earth, smaller and smaller, until only a sliver remained, a sliver that became a slender sword in her hand.

"W-what are you?" her attacker cried.

"Justice."


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