The Swords of Babylon

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Alicia Myles was not the kind of person to look back on her life. In fact, the only time her old life caught up with her was when she slept. If, when awake, she could look upon her seven-year-old self, she would not recognize a single scrap of the person she was today.

That was before she’d been forged.

Aged eight, she remembered sitting up in bed and hugging her knees to her chest, bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight that filtered through the broken blinds; a wraith or an angel, barely formed, the promise of the future still fresh, pure and alive in her mind. The terrible, unfamiliar sounds had only recently started. Her father shouting. Her mother — at first — answering back. The sound of a glass smashing. The sound of the fridge door crashing open and, no doubt. the sight of her father reaching in to grab another one of those cans he'd started drinking — the ones he seemed to like even through the day.

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