I clutch the dagger, gold lacing throughout the handle. Warmth creeps into my hand as I think about my father, how he held it in his hands the same way I hold it in mine.
I’m privileged to continue his legacy, the gift he bestowed on me.
I sit in the shadows, silent, like I’m meditating, just like father taught me. I grip the dagger tightly, yet relaxed, ready and waiting for the man who will s...