Redana is—

She’s not the Nemean. But she’s big. Maybe even a little taller than Bella, though the heels are definitely doing a lot of the heavy lifting there. She looks older, more mature, more sure of herself right now. When she smiles back, it’s as someone who is comfortable in her own skin, who isn’t second-guessing herself. There’s magic here. And it’s beautiful, isn’t it?

“We have to take out the Pyramid,” the Shepherdess says, her gaiety tempered by the battle raging all around. A victory’s been won here, but there’s more to be done. “Alexa, do you think these shining arms of yours can tear it down and leave no stone standing on another? I’ll keep the Gardener off your back while you work.”

The impossible shape in her hand twists and writhes into the shape of that long and terrible bow with which she harried the tyrant. Her fingers brush against the string, which quivers with a dreadful note, a promise of battle.

“Once that is done, my uncle’s shackles will fall away, and perhaps these breathless dead all around will be allowed their rest. And then there will be [i]nothing[/i] standing between me and Bella. And after that… well, I suppose we’ll all find out together. Shall we?”