A/N: The prompt for this story was to a write a fantasy-based piece of action fiction, of less than 500 words.

Broken. Bleeding. Spent. Qin lay in the mud and waited to die.  While the battle still raged and her spirit longed to rejoin the fight, her battered body betrayed her.  She was finished.

She had slain many of the Yuimi before she succumbed and wounded more, but they were as locusts—remorseless, hungry and limitless in their numbers.

She had watched as her friends and family fought bravely and died brutally and she had been powerless to help them.  She had seen her lands overrun, her people butchered and everything she loved being swept away.

But in all this world of pain, there was still one vestige of comfort.  One solace to salve her tortured soul.  She had not broken her vow.  And now, finally, with death imminent, she could finally, at long last, be certain that it would remain unbroken.  Her constant battle to remain steadfast was finally coming to an end.  The potent, unspeakable force contained within her had been tamed and she had won.  Her death would seal the victory.

But you're not dead yet, whispered the seductive little voice, deep inside her head—the prisoner she had kept, the passenger she had carried, the power she had contained, all these years.  What does it matter now, anyway?  Who is left to care whether you follow the way of the Z'iin?  The elders are dead, your teachers are dead and soon, all too soon, you will be dead.  Those who taught you to control this power, those who forced you to harness it and those who forbade you from ever using it.  All gone.  What does it matter?  Isn't it right that you should taste this power, just this once?  Just a little taste, before you leave this life?  Is that not fair?

Shaking her head feebly, Qin squeezed her eyes shut and tried to drown out the voice.  I will not, I will not, I will not!  She was the keeper of the power, not its master.  Desperately, she tried to focus on her training, on her breathing, on her mindfulness— anything to keep the beast at bay.

To no avail.  The pain was too great, the blood loss too heavy, the power simply too strong.  Despite her resistance, she could feel it stirring, uncoiling, spreading through every fibre of her being.  For just a moment longer she fought, for a single heartbeat the battle hung in the balance.  And then, finally, riven by grief, fueled by rage, insane with despair, her will failed her.  And with her surrender, the power was unleashed.

In a simple, elegant ballet of motion, her broken body righted itself, sword in hand.  While her injuries were still present, the inadequacies of flesh and bone were of little concern to the elemental forces now flowing through her.  Sparks flying from her fingertips and flames blazing in her eyes, she set upon the Yuimi.

Like wheat, they fell in swathes before her whirling blade.  She was a vengeful storm of destruction and death and none could stand before her.  She was everywhere and nowhere and the Yuimi had barely comprehended their victory before defeat was upon them.

Finally, she stood alone.  Painted with the blood of her enemies.  Victorious.  Avenged.

But not satiated.

Not yet.