In the meantime, this 6 is completely new and the story doesn't even have a name yet. The idea only started with the turn of the New Year and is developing as a dark fantasy instead of my usual scifi. These are the opening lines, and if they'd been hand-written the ink would still be wet.
She drifted into the village like a pall of grey smoke breaking free from the heavy mists beyond. The Faithful came to meet her with the traditional welcome of drawn weapons, even though the Patriarch himself had begged for her presence.
'Must we go through this tiresome charade every time?' she demanded of the foremost devotee, her pencil-fine eyebrows drawn together in a frown. In answer, he merely raised the plain, badly-wrought sword he held in a hand that trembled, and she sighed. 'As you wish then.'
There was a whisper of sound and a deadly flash of silver swirled with grey, followed by a dull thud as the first of the Faithful collapsed to the ground.
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