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Lae'zel's end, or perhaps her salvation, drew nearer by the day. She would either die by her own hand, rather than be turned into a vile ghaik, or remain a noble warrior for her Queen. She was afraid; trapped on an unknown world, with people she wasn't sure she could trust, she had no choice but to put on the face of a fighter. But looming demise brought with it a freedom she had rarely known. A desire to do all that she could and to savour the realm of the living while she was able.
So, she took up her blade and searched out the one person she knew to be worthy of her touch. Perhaps they would be willing to engage her in ritual combat, so as to prove their affections mutual.
"Fight me."
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