prologue
Myra. Probably the best warrior the world and the world beyond worlds has ever seen. Fierce, stubborn and hot headed, a skilful soldier and a trusted friend to both angle and demon alike. I met her only the once, and, although I found her strange and often thought her crazy, she saved my life and for that my gratitude known no bounds. Despite her heroics and many countless victories even as I write this her condition deteriorates, her mind wanders. She will leave us soon, Myra will fall and we who remain will mourn her. Her falling will not be one of disgrace but one of mercy; it is the only mercy the lord can grant after her years of service to his cause. I find myself saddened by her predicament. Years ago when I served with her I learned of her ailment and dismissed it as nothing more than a fantasy on her part, designed to excuse her atrocious behaviour. But after we parted I began hearing rumours about her health and I learned that she was indeed cursed. She fought it as best she could and no one could ask anything else of the only female warrior in the lords army. Her falling will be celebrated her contribution and name will live on in our history, she will not be eased from our lives and records like all the other fallen, Myra will be remembered. I will remember the time we spent together and the battles we fought even if it kills me, which considering what happened, it probably will.
