The Colors of Blood

Death: Lyssandra

Lyssandra was proud of her strength,ferocity was important for her roll, just the thing they needed in this farce of a battle. The fighting seemed to sing in her blood and she reveled in it. She basked in the fear shown on her enemies' faces as she cut through them like a blade through grass. Being in her Ghost Leopard form was a wise choice it seems. The Line of Defense was not her first choice to fight, but she could deal with it. As long as she got to listen to the screams of the Witches she fought, she didn't care.

Honestly, she couldn't careless what was happening up on the Front Lines, before and even after the explosion and Rowan's cries of anger. She knew Aelin would be fine, her best friend was a strong one. And let's not forget about her pyrokenetic powers. With their allies pushing Erawan's forces as far back as they could, Aelin will be able to destroy that son of a devil once and for all. Too bad Chaol wouldn't be there to see it...

Lyssandra was death's right hand in this moment, she was his scythe, his frightful grip. No one would get to Aelin from behind, not while Lyssandra fought like the agent of Death that she was. One day, she may regret her bloodlust, but not today. She was out to kill, if only to end this blasted war. She was Death's right hand, his scythe, his vengeful grip, she was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius' sword and shield, and she would keep her queen safe...even if it killed her...