A new day dawns on the horizon, with it – the beginning of a new year.

Across the crystal mesa, a desolate plain on this inhospitable planet, the light of the star shines with a myriad reflections. The shutters rattle as the dawn wind picks up speed, deadly to those outside of the protective cocoon of the way station.

I sigh, resting a hand on my abdomen. It’s been a long year, and the next may only become longer, but here’s to the future. I raise the glass of fine Khanid red in the air then dash it against the screen, the wine slowly dripping as it begins to congeal and burn from the heat.

To the growth of our wallets, and to the lives we will destroy in the next 365 days. May the Gods themselves tremble before the woman with an agenda.


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