Fate

She glides down the hall
so smooth, so elegant,
Like a ghost floating lazily
in the fog.

All eyes turn to her as she
goes to meet her fate.
She draws her sword,
eyes narrowed, she strikes.

A deadly silence falls upon
the hall as the corpse falls
to the ground.
Crimson stains the rug.

Tears fall from the faces
of the ones who watch.
Though, they are not tears
of fear and sorrow, they're
tears of triumph and Joy.

She stands there facing the
corpse, blade dripping blood
She sheaths her sword and
turns for the door.

Her fate was not to die
tonight,
But to save, triumph.

She has succeeded and now
they are safe.