I gave her this wound. I locked her away in chains, drained her ability, made her live like a wasting ghost. If she steps forward, she’ll have no weapons at all. No shield. No guarantee. The letter opener in my hand feels suddenly heavy. I could drop it. Leave the blade and run. I could let her live. Or I could kill her. The choice is easy. And so very difficult. I hold my ground. My grip tightens on the iron.