Darina knew her reputation - blood-thirsty, vicious, a rule-breaker. It was the role the world had given her and like her mother, death herself, Darina knew how to play her role well.

Now, crouched on the thick branch of a tree easily older than her own centuries, Darina pulled her bowstring taught and sighted quickly before letting another arrow fly. A solder on the other side of the field fell but Darina didn't have time to smile before pulling another arrow from the quiver resting snugly between her wings.

She could see the reapers swarming the field, the planes blurred for a moment as she sought her next target. The reapers could not kill - they could not interfere.

Though Darina wore the black of the priestesses of her mother, Daria, she was free from restrictions - she was the enforcer and executioner of the world. She alone took peeks into the Book of Days to see who might need to be struck down.

A rule-breaker, vicious and blood-thirsty. The hushed whispers and ripples of fear were far better than the truth. She would not break.

Another arrow flew and then a third.

And then Darina licked her lips and leaned back to rest against the wide trunk of the tree she'd chosen as her perch. Her wings pinched and the bark scratched her legs and her hair had snagged on a handful of twigs.

But her job was done for one day. The world moved on as it should.

Darina smiled.