ILLYRIA

Rain bleeds
from
the sky.

It combines
itself with the
multicolored
demon
blood on
Illyria's armor.

It filters
into the iris
of her eyes:
stinging like
ice-fire.

Though the
rain obstructs
her vision it
does not hinder
her ability to shatter
the spines
of every
dark creature
that comes
within her reach.

Even the
sound of
bone
crunching
under the force of
Illyria's
hands
cannot quell

her anger,
her grief,
her pain.

Wesley!

The name
screams
in the caves
of her mind
bouncing
recklessly
against the
walls of her
cranium.

Every time
she crushes
another
monster's
skull

she replays the same memory...