“Alya Orfea Samara. The Green Nightmare herself. You certainly put up quite a fight but everyone ends up coming before the two of us sooner or later.” Diza picked up a stack of papers from the desk he stood at and casually flipped through them. “Do you have any questions before we begin the proceedings?”
Light shone down from the ceiling, bright as the sun. Alya squinted and held an arm over her face, one wide, green sleeve hanging down in front of her eyes. “What’s going on?” she growled, trying to collect her thoughts. The last thing she remembered fully was climbing to the rooftop of the ruined inn and taking aim; her memories beyond that point were fragmented and nearly useless. As her eyes adjusted, the twin desks in the room faded into view, each one with a child-sized figure behind. As soon as she realized who they were, Alya stopped herself from commenting on their appearance…
The rest of this short story can be read via Argot Magazine.
Jocelyn P. Blair 