[ It's impossible to say what she was expecting, fear and a catalog of ever-growing monsters researched intensely through two decades make for a monster roulette wheel of almost endless options. When they come, it's hard to know if they're worse or better than the guesses, but it doesn't. Guesses are forgotten, and comparisons are never made; it's only them.

A host of shifting bodies, with horns and hanging flesh, pressed around her from every direction as she spun. Screeching loudly. Screaming she should be dead, calling her mother killer, and murderer, monster, the blood on her hands. Some of them pass through her, and all of them piss her off. Her head has been played with enough already. She doesn't need more monsters dancing on her grave, in the past or the present.

She strikes out in a circle, using her sword, willing her gift to work. Once, twice, gritted teeth before it works. The turn of her blade in a circle evolves suddenly, like a flooding silver flower of a hundred blades pointing outward with her at its center, every blade slashing through anything stupid enough to be within those four-five feet of her in any direction, sliced through, steel and magic alike, wounding without warning. ]