Sabra Volkar

SABRA VOLKAR — INTRODUCTION

The claymore on her back is the first thing people notice. Nearly as long as she is tall, the blade is scratched, worn, and clearly well-loved. Then comes the woman herself—tan skin marked with red tribal patterns, short green hair wind-tousled, blue eyes sharp enough to cut.

Sabra Volkar stands like someone who has never backed down from anything in her life. Shoulders squared, weight balanced, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She looks like she could bench press a cart and drink a tavern dry. She looks like trouble.

But watch her with her companions. Watch the way she positions herself between them and the door. The way her eyes track threats. The way she laughs at Dax's idiocy while subtly making sure he doesn't walk into a trap. The way she never, ever lets anyone walk behind her.

She's loud. She's competitive. She's stronger than anyone has a right to be.

And if you hurt the people she loves, she's the last thing you'll ever see.