Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

A gentle breeze blew into the cell. Katjiya took it into her lungs.

She could smell it. A change was in the air. What that change would bring would be made clear in time, as it was with all things.

The smell of the blood and fire had dissipated years ago after the battle that had left her confined in the cell. Years had passed and the sounds of nature; the rustling of the winds through the trees and birds singing for their morning penance had returned—the world renewed itself. There was comfort to be found in it.

 A fire had started in her blood with the passing of time.

Soon it would be time, when the stars and fates where in alignment—freedom and purpose. But for now patience, that is what he had told her.

It is coming.