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Ochriese sits perched at the edge of the high-backed chair. She’s perfectly positioned so that the target has a full view of her. Though she shouldn’t dwell on such things her conversation with the Lumina replays itself.

“Why send me?”
“He likes children.”
“What is the real reason?”
“If allowed to live he will wreak havoc not only on those he wrongs but will destroy his entire family.  A family strongly allied with us and instrumental in providing several services for the Queen.”
“This is the Queen’s bidding then? “

The Lumina didn’t respond.

“It isn’t right. We shouldn’t change fates that only we can see,” said Ochriese.

Her nine-year-old body can only reach the floor with the tips of her slippers and she uses this to keep shifting, allowing the candlelight to catch the fire in her hair. She sips watered pomegranate juice wetting and staining her lips and probes the corners of her mouth with the tip of her moistened tongue. She has him ensnared and though she can see the things in his future that the Lumina told her of, she sees other things too. She sees a thin but strong thread of change. That given the right motivations he would never do the things they are so afraid of. He would grow into a benefactor of schools and dedicate his life to the sea, far away from anyone he could harm.

She slides from the edge of her seat and sways slightly as if suddenly exhausted and walks out of the dining hall. Foot falls soon follow. She leads him to an alcove.

“Are you alright little one?” he asks, leaning down.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers sinking the larken poisoned needle into his neck. So thin the needle and quick the strike that not a drop of blood spills. Once lowered to the ground he looks not so much as if dead but rather dreaming, perhaps of the sea.

Inspired by Trifecta’s word of the week: DWELL: 3a : to keep the attention directed —used with on or upon b : to speak or write insistently —used with on or upon

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