The Grandmother’s Crown

Description

The bunker was cold, colder than the Marsh, colder than the sea. President Ronald Slump sat in his command chair, his fingers steepled before him, his eyes fixed on the screens that showed the wreckage of his fleet, the scattered remnants of his army, the island where the children had been saved. He had watched his soldiers fall, his ships burn, his weapon turn against him. He had watched the serpent choose her mother over her hunger, the sister choose love over revenge, the grandmother choose hope over despair. He had watched the door that he had tried to close swing open wider than it had ever been, and he had watched his enemies walk through it together, their hands clasped, their hearts full, their hope burning brighter than it had ever burned.