an empty train car and a sentient sword leaning on a chair, sighing as the stations roll by

She’s the Chosen One, gifted with Firefang, a sentient sword that’s also a wizard, but she keeps leaning it up against things and forgetting it.

A Voidcrow big as four houses pecks the roof off and she’s on the phone with Lost and Found, finger in her ear to hear over all the caw-ing and screaming.

The ocean has receded and a tidal wave is coming and she’s flipped over every couch cushion, yanked ever drawer out, cutlery on the floor. “It was JUST … HERE.”