(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

I took off at a dash, fleeing down the streets as my companions called out to
me from behind. With my limbs light with panic, even Annah couldn't catch
up. I darted down one alley, then another, knowing full well that the Lady
was as familiar with each path as one is with the veins of his own hand.
My boots pounded on pavement worn away by acid rains, throwing up dust
blown in from desert worlds. Air bittersweet with the nectars of Celestia and
the effluvium of the Abyss gnawed at my lungs, and they burned as I
continued my mad dash through the ward. Of course it was futile, but what
could anyone do but run?
The normal cacophony of the Sigilian crowds died with horrified gasps and
mute whispers. Many froze in place, too shocked to flee but aware enough
to draw semicircles over their hearts. They were quick to part as the cold
razor-edged shadow behind me stretched out with merciless purpose.
And then the paths began to change.
The buildings I passed were empty, and with each step they became more
warped. The streets became jagged and bent, as if space had begun to curl
in on itself like a dried-up leaf. The world was painted with strange colors
and silent hums. And once the path before me began to evaporate like
sublimating ice I stopped. There was nothing to be done now.
I turned around.
She floated, robes flapping in an unfelt wind. Her eyes were half-lidded and
pale, her face was smooth and expressionless as if it were nothing more
than a mask framed with a halo of blades. This was the one that could slay
gods with a glance, whose displeasure drove mortal and immortal alike mad.
She was the one that caused love to sour into despair, and whose blades
carved away possibilities and left regrets.
"It wasn't me..."
She floated towards me... ever enigmatic, ever serene. The half-world I was
caught in rippled away, and with something akin to a snap of pinched flesh
everything solidified around me.
"Crap."
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