(100 words. Spoilers for Death of the Outsider.)
Time still splinters around her.
In the streets, she sees portraits of Empresses shifting, bloodflies and dust storms fading in and out of view.
Sometimes she wakes in the night hearing Deirdre's sweet laugh, Daud's low voice asking for her help. She's seen their deaths a dozen times each by now.
The Outsider, sitting at her table in patched and shabby clothes, picking unenthusiastically at a tin of potted meat, regards her with a curious tilt of the head. "Did you think everything would be so simple?" he asks, boy and god all at once.
Behind him, the Void flickers.