His hand caressed her newly-polished face, feeling for the imperfections that were no longer there. Her wings gleamed under the hangar lights, begging to kiss the sky again. But it was what hung under her belly that made him pause.
They called it “Kingslayer”, the missile that would fly six times faster than sound for one reason alone.
It would be the hammer that he would take into the evening sky, the fire the Demon Lord would rain down upon anyone before him in retribution of his fallen Vixen.
And entry #2 for this week’s 5 Sentence Fiction. Which also happens to be the opening of something deeper and darker, the natural conclusion of what happens when some poor soul angers the Demon.
I hope you all enjoy.