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The nightshade

In the shadow of a towering full red moon, a very slim woman stood on the battlefield, her narrow waist and wide hips contrasting against the vast expanse of night. Her long, shapely legs were encased in armor, while her delicate face was framed by cascading black hair. One hand held a large death scythe, its blade gleaming in the moonlight. The other hand rested at her side, her blue lips curved into a faint smile that belied the danger she carried. Around her neck hung a tattered death coat, its dark fabric billowing slightly in the cold night breeze.