Staring at the demons, she felt something she hadn't felt in years. Helpless.
Feeling a sharp pain in her chest, she tried lifting the sword again but was too exhausted to do so.
The demons pinned her down and pierced her heart.
Gasping for breath, she now found herself lying in a bed inside a small, wooden cabin. Looking outside the window close by revealed that she was now on a snowy mountain.
"No reason to be alarmed." a voice said from the shadowy corner, hidden by the light of the fire. "You'll be safe here for a little while."
"Who are you, how'd I get here?"
"Who I am is of no concern. And you got here because you died. When you die, you will be summoned to a safe location to rest."
That didn't make much sense. But then, nothing that happened in the last hour made much sense.
"You'll find your sword and some clothes on the table."
Looking across the room, she saw her sword resting on some thick, winter clothes. Though she couldn't make out what they looked like from this distance.
"Thank you." she said, with appreciation. "I'm Samson, by the way. What's-" she stopped when the voice began to chuckle.
"I think not. You're not really Sam's son anymore, you're more like Sam's daughter. Yes, Samdottir. You should keep that."
She was going to argue but could sense that the voice wasn't there anymore. In fact, was he ever really there? It might have been a trick of the island for all she knew.
Regardless, she was now alone. While hating the name change, Samdottir decided it would be easier than explaining to any possible allies about her situation. Besides, if she came across what her mother called a 'transphobic' person, it might cause more harm.
She never really understood how people could hate each other so much. Then again, she never lived in a society, so there was a lot she didn't know about people.
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