TWO In our darkest hour We trudged through the sands. Beneath clear, open sky We boiled in our armor. My horse collapsed at my feet And I was thankful. Her suffering was great Existence tortured. I did not give her a name If I had, I would not have remembered. Unknown author “March to Idraan,” found on a soldier’s body, Year 31. I — On a thoroughfare in Monrovia The Vale Betwixt, first layer of Pandemonium There had been no time to think; she could only run. Kateryna had no desire to think. Thinking meant reflection, and what she had…