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He looks up and finds himself betrayed.

He has seen the Lady only twice before, and never clearly, but he sees her now in all her unknowable geometries.

She is more beautiful than he could have imagined, and for a moment he forgets the pain in his shoulder, and his newly mangled hand. For just a second, even the horror and wonder and heartache of seeing Piotyr again, so impossibly alive, is wiped away by the impossible majesty of the creature above him.

Who is climbing away from him.

Leaving him behind.