Having slipped past the roots obediently holding the door up, I found myself in a rather long, straight room filled with some boxes.
At that moment, I saw how the fat man was already with difficulty closing the next door from the other side, but this time it was an ordinary one and made of steel.
I was taken aback for a second. How did he manage to do that with a poisoned arrow in his leg?... But my gaze caught on two bottles rolling around under my feet.
Potions... One of the bottles was obviously a healing one. The only question is what was in the other one.
Already running, I called upon the Light and, extending my left hand in front of me, released its fury from my fingertips. Five thin, incredibly bright white beams pierced the wall opposite me. With a twist of my brush, I cut out a large, irregular oval, encompassing most of the door and wall. Immediately after, I cast a 'pulse,' which ejected the cut-out pieces away from me. The remaining pieces of the door frame were also bent and even torn apart by the spell's impact.
Without slowing down, I jumped like a fish into the hole that had formed, trying not to touch the hot spot of the cut.
I roll over and jump to my feet.
Two steps away from me, a spiral staircase begins, leading up and down. The fat man's thudding footsteps are heard from above.
Apparently, the second potion he drank was 'acceleration'. Gee...
But it's okay. Its effect will wear off soon, and it will fall where it falls. The main thing is not to lose sight of it.
I run up the steps. Another door, this time wide open. Beyond it lies a bustling square. Driven by inertia, I reach it and stop, searching for the fugitive.
My gaze quickly glides over the passersby. Humans, a large detachment of shield-bearing warriors, several horsemen, light elves...
Did he really leave?
There he is: a fat man pushing his way through the crowd twenty paces away. People shout indignantly after him. At that moment, he turns around and shouts, pointing at me:
"Help! A dark elf wants to kill me! A murderer!!!" He continues to run away, running right through a squad of soldiers.
An empty space quickly formed around me.
A good number of passersby, soldiers, and elves turned in my direction. What a bitch...
And there's no point in shouting "I'm not me." The attitude toward the dark ones is biased, but they fully deserve it. They are, without exception, liars and merciless killers, reveling in their superiority over the weak. Although there are exceptions...
The officer who was with the soldiers shouted a command in a loud voice:
- Draw your swords! Close your shields!
The Light Ones also drew their weapons and began to approach cautiously.
I notice several soldiers skillfully cocking large crossbows.
"Surrender!" the tall elf standing behind the shield wall shouts loudly.
He holds a long bow in his hands with an arrow already placed on it.
We'll have to retreat. What bad luck! That's what it means to underestimate the enemy. I should have pinned him with a 'black arrow,' just like that dark one...
The elf nocks an arrow with a long, jagged tip. The bow creaks slightly.
Far behind him I see a fat man who glances back at me briefly before diving into the gateway.
Well, yeah. I underestimated you. Even an old woman can make mistakes.
Well, run, run... Let's see how long you can run. After the 'speed' potion, you'll be flat out for at least half a day. During that time, there's a good chance someone will try to find your hiding place.
In the meantime, we need to break away from this whole crowd and return to the sewers.
I release Light mana from the magical gift for the 'Impulse' spell. Its power should be half that of the one I used in the sewers. I could certainly cause a massacre here, but ruin my relationship with the baron over it?
But the elves sensed something, and all three managed to fire arrows at me. I dodged two of them by simply twisting my body, thus moving it out of their trajectory. But the tall elf who had suggested I surrender was more experienced and fired his arrow a little later.
My teachers taught me how to catch arrows and celebrated my successes, but catching that projectile at such a distance was nearly impossible. So I raised my hand and placed my left palm under it, saturating it with a little Life Mana to block any possible poison. The arrow pierced my palm. Immediately after the tip pierced my hand, I clenched my fingers into a fist and managed to stop the arrow before it pierced my shoulder. Only then did I apply a powerful 'blinding'.
A brilliant clot the size of two fists was born before me. Its white light filled everything around me, banishing all other colors except black.
Without wasting a single second, I dove back through the door behind me. Running down the stairs, I imbued the arrow with Life Mana, and it, pouring from my hand, grew in an instant, completely blocking the passage behind me with intertwined roots and even branches, which within seconds sprouted twigs with tiny leaves.
A small piece of the shaft remained in my hand and I had to pull it out to prevent it from taking root in my flesh. Behind me, I hear my pursuers cursing and trying to cut through after me.
Blood drips from my disfigured left palm. I cast a 'healing' spell on it and, watching as the through-and-through wound heals without a trace, I walk back down the corridor.
Suddenly I notice that the foreign blood that I smeared on my hands is quickly absorbed into the skin, leaving it pristinely clean.
What the...
I touch my face and neck with my fingers. She's no longer there either. Very unusual.
But my memory, opening up a little again, tells me that I've had this happen before. In different situations.
Well, if so, then okay.
I stepped out into the sewer tunnel and, glancing at the still unconscious dark elf crucified on the wall, casually caressed the roots holding the stone slab to the ceiling. Obeying my command, they raised it back up and began to encircle that entire section of the wall, strengthening it.
I approach the elf.
'Black' techniques stand apart among our mages' skills. Wood summoned using a symbol such as the mage's flesh is very dangerous, especially for the enemy. In fact, it's not an ordinary tree, but a flesh-hungry predatory plant. Once it enters living (or not so living) flesh, it immediately takes root and begins sucking out juices, blood, and even mana. Moreover, it requires mana to survive in this state, since without it, the plant very quickly degenerates into an ordinary tree.
The most interesting thing is that this plant doesn't care what Force or Element the mana belongs to. It consumes everything...
As a result, 'black' techniques are very effective against mages and magical creatures. And in general. For example, one successful hit with a 'black arrow' is enough to dispatch a mediocre mage. And this is despite the possible use of various healing potions. Removing the roots from the body requires a more powerful technique or prompt surgery.
Even the adepts of the Forces, who have delved into them deeper than is possible or necessary and have entered into a certain agreement with them, can be distracted, if not killed, by such a spell.
I touch each spike with my fingers, restoring their magical affinity and feeding them mana. Afterwards, I ask them not to penetrate too deeply into someone else's flesh.
The tree stops expanding with displeasure.
I, as usual, conduct a search, simultaneously checking the captive for sewn-in poison capsules and false teeth. Several daggers, blue-feathered steel throwing needles, a set of small, sharp stars. A wallet was found in a hidden pocket of the jacket. Inside were ten gold coins, bound in a stack with steel wire, and five more silver coins scattered about. Not much.
This latest find brings back a very old memory. My master once told me that dark elves follow a special code when they serve as mercenaries. I personally didn't encounter such a thing during the war, as the confrontation was very fierce back then. But I think one of the rules was that the mercenary didn't spend his fee until the mission was completed. Apparently, if the mission became too risky, the dark elf mercenary could abandon it, simply returning the money to the client. Moreover, if he gave away a sharpened star (like the ones I discovered) along with the money, it meant the client had a bit more to worry about, as he'd made another enemy.
So, a trio of mercenaries. A battle mage and two swordsmen... Guarding this shifty fat man...
It's still a long way from Alehetorn. Could it be that they're also starting to show the same signs of degradation as us?
But enough guessing when you can get answers in the interrogation room.
Maybe I shouldn't drag my loot to the baron? And what should I do with it in that case?
Cold...
I test her magical gift. It's empty—the 'black arrows' drain everything clean. However, I sense mana slowly building. Darkness, Death, and...Light? A rather unusual combination, but not entirely impossible. Just another reminder of the times when the dark and the light were one people, one host of gods.
Judging by my senses, I have a rather powerful, but very young, sorceress in my hands. This is supported by her great magical potential, which is still emitting uncontrollable mana fluctuations that the plant, which has taken root, hasn't had time to absorb.
The potential for developing magical gifts is good and even higher.
I would guess she's about three decades old. No more.
This raises a broader question. What is a young mage with great potential doing here, right next to the Great Forest, whose place in Alehetorne is under the wing of a high-ranking priestess?
Problems in the Deep? A promising mage hired away all the way to the Great Forest for a mere ten gold pieces?
A more thorough search will be necessary. Every seam of her clothing must be examined...
But that's not here anymore.
The sound of a loud blow against the wall reaches me.
It looks like the pursuers have finally managed to break through the thicket and are now testing the walls. Stubborn ones.
I sense several elves on the other side of the wall. It's time to leave.
I pick up the elf's sword lying at my feet and, holding her limp body, cut the spikes from the wall that had pierced her limbs. Then, with the "black arrows" still protruding from her arms and legs, I toss her over my left shoulder.
I'm about to leave, but I trip over a black mask lying on the ground. Grabbing it, I quickly run back down the tunnel.
There is a feeling of half-breeds ahead.
I stop running and walk and take off my mask. The last thing I need is for them to mistake me for a dark elf.
Needless to say, the infiltration was 'successful.' But at least I captured the dark elf alive, and that's quite an achievement. Without this masquerade, I would have had to kill her. And it's not a given that I would have been able to capture the fat man alive either.
In the distance, the light of two torches appears.
Below them stand two soldiers with full-length rectangular shields. They hold torches over their heads, peering into the darkness. Behind them stand two half-breeds, longbows in hand, the wavy-tipped arrows I'd seen already nocked to the strings.
I start to walk more noisily and let the 'black arrows' sticking out of the dark elf hit the blood-soaked, perfectly tanned leather of my trophy clothing.
The half-breeds, hearing all these sounds, perk up and, beginning to peer into the darkness more closely, notice me. Nocking their arrows, they point their weapons in my direction.
I hope they don't shoot...
I pronounce it quite loudly:
- Don't shoot...
Oddly enough, it worked. The half-breeds loosened the tension.
The one on the right, with rather soft features, shouted loudly:
- Haalen! You are needed here!
As I slowly approached, a half-breed I already knew ran out from around the corner.
Stopping two steps from the shields, I allowed myself to be examined.
- It's me, Ilrruil.
The half-breed nodded and said to the soldiers:
"Let me through. He's one of our own." When I passed the people pressed against the wall and stopped next to Haalen, he glanced with interest at my bloody clothes and my unconscious burden: "Are you hurt? And who is this?"
I looked down at the elf's thick black hair dragging through the dirt:
"The Dark One's 'Little Star' was guarding some fat guy. They managed to delay me long enough for him to get away. But I managed to capture this one alive. I think she might know something."
"So, you killed these two?" He pointed his thumb behind him.
There, by the light of two more torches, the same man with the hammer squatted next to the body of a dark elf, a "black arrow" protruding from his chest. His weapon leaned against the wall nearby. Another half-breed was examining the body. As I watched, he carefully lifted the jacket with a dagger and began examining the wound and the wooden spike itself.
I nod in response:
- Yes.
I walked towards the corpse.
Haalen followed me.
The man noticed us first and cautiously rose to his feet, picking up his hammer. The half-breed turned around next. I recognized the latter as Esvi.
Having easily jumped over the muddy stream, I approached them.
The man looked at me and my load with a very surprised look and only then asked:
- Has Heer Pollus, the owner of the estate, left?
"If you mean the fat man, then he showed remarkable foresight and resourcefulness," I chuckled and, after thinking for a moment, added: "And I was arrogant enough for him to catch me out by drinking the 'last chance' and 'acceleration' potions."
The man sighed:
"I see... As devious as any merchant." He gave me an eloquent glance. "And why are you dressed like that? Frankly, when we discovered your clothes and weapons, we started to think the worst..."
I shrug:
"I decided to take advantage of the situation and use an old-fashioned trick to infiltrate the enemy's ranks, but the presence of this sorceress..." I pointed eloquently at my burden with my gaze, "...has rather thrown a wrench into my plans. Nevertheless, I managed to capture her alive and am eager to bring her to her senses in a secluded place so I can ask her a few questions." Glancing at the body at their feet, I continued, "Take this one, gather my things, and let's get out of here."
- And what about that? - Haalen shook his head towards the crushed naked corpse.
I raised my left eyebrow:
"It's not right to throw the bodies of dark brothers into the darkness of the sewers. Something bad could happen. So he needs to be taken out of here too. And preferably burned." Immediately after these words, I jumped to the other side of the stream.
It seemed no one was in a hurry to retrieve the broken body: Haalen began gathering my things, and two soldiers picked up the corpse of the dark one with the spike in his chest and, swinging it, tossed it across the stream to the man with the hammer. He caught it easily and, just as I had done with the captive, slung it over his shoulder.
I walk towards the corpse. My last step lands right in the pool of blood that has spread beneath it.
The soldiers are in no hurry to take him. They don't want to get their blood on him...
Hm. I had a flashback to the blood of that same dark one soaking into my skin. And I didn't experience any particular sensations. And my memory is silent. Maybe I should repeat that?
I kneel down and, grabbing the corpse by its slippery bones, sling it over my other shoulder. It feels like I've thrown a large wet rag over myself...
*****
The sun touched the horizon and the streets began to sink into deep twilight.
Soldiers appeared with torches and bright magical lanterns, the light from which dispelled the darkness.
The Baron hardly noticed it, being immersed in the difficult memories of his past.
Suddenly, Kessel perked up and reached into his sleeve to extract the communication amulet. After holding it in his fist for a few seconds, he turned to the baron and said:
"Two blocks from here, a patrol clashed with a dark elf pursuing some nobleman." The baron came to his senses and stared at him in surprise. The archmage continued thoughtfully: "The light elfs present attempted to force the dark elf to surrender, after peppering him with arrows. In response, he used magic." He shook his head. "Something unusual for them—'blinding.' And very strong: some people see nothing."
The Baron narrowed his eyes:
- Did he leave?
- Dark? Yes. Through the sewers.
Tour gritted his teeth and said angrily:
- Nobleman! Where is he?
The Archmage shrugged:
- He ran away.
- Ooooh... Damn it... - his interlocutor exhaled.
- Do you think it was this merchant Heer Pollus?
"Yes," the knight nodded gloomily.
- And the dark one?
The Baron shrugged:
"I've heard that hiring even a large detachment in the capital isn't a problem. I even saw several of them guarding the Duke of Dragon. In any case, this needs to be investigated... I don't like all this."
*****
There were three people standing at the door of the empty hotel room.
The tall elf wore light green casual clothing with beautiful dark blue embroidery depicting tree branches. His bright golden hair was pulled back into a traditional shoulder-length ponytail with a dark green ribbon. His weapons included two curved daggers in gold-embellished sheaths. The hilts of the weapons were visibly polished to a high shine by years of use.
Next to him stood a green-eyed sorceress in a pantsuit and the manager.
"It was right that you called me," said the elf, looking at the key.
Bran bowed slightly:
- Sir, last time the maid Hilda was swaddled in vines, and we only realized we hadn't seen her for a long time five hours later, when she didn't come out for dinner...
The innkeeper turned the key in the door and carefully pushed it open with a short, thin cane. The door swung open almost silently, revealing a view of the room's interior.
"At first glance, everything seems fine," he said and slowly stepped inside. Looking back, he added, "Eidael, you'll be my backup."
"Yes, uncle," the sorceress replied and followed him into the room.
The elf began to carefully examine the rooms. Looking under the beds and into the toilet, he exhaled:
- Well, it seems he didn't forget any guard network.
Bran entered the room:
- This is already good news, Mr. Eloril...
The elf began to examine his surroundings and the closed window more closely. Opening it, he paid close attention to the vines entwining the wall of the house on the other side.
While looking at something, he spoke:
"That guest was a strange one. Look what he did to the signal network, without even damaging it, just by plugging in a large segment..." When his niece approached the window, the elf recoiled and exhaled, "Oh, my gods! That's an inactive guardian bush!"
Eidael carefully looked out of the window:
"You're right, Uncle. A guardian bush... And a big one. How much mana did he use on that? Although, with his reserves..." She slowly reached out to the branch and, grabbing it, tried to take a closer look, but it suddenly slipped out of her hands and returned to its place: "Oh..."
She shook her head in surprise, but then her gaze turned to the group of elves entering the inn's doors. Their faces were worried, even gloomy. She heard:
- ...maybe she's gone crazy? She's so old, after all!
One of them replied irritably:
"It doesn't matter. If the dark ones are doing whatever they want here, we need to organize a raid and pepper them with arrows! We have a formal pretext. And if necessary, I'll request help from my House..."
The door closed behind them, cutting off the sounds.
Eidael turned to her uncle, who was looking at something on the ceiling, and said:
"We have visitors. I saw one of them wearing the official Silver Arrow insignia on his collar. Uncle, you know what that means. House of Reth."
He thought for a second and said with a sigh:
"Let's go. Let's see what they need..." He looked at the manager: "Everything seems fine here. The bush was above the bed and was connected to the water supply. Our guest didn't leave anything else."
Bran nodded respectfully.
The elf walked past him and left the room. His niece followed him.
Once on the stairs, they saw all three guests standing near the counter. Eloril's keen gaze noted that they were fully equipped and armed according to all the rules of combat. Longbows in sheaths and full quivers of long, white-feathered arrows slung over their shoulders. Under their padded jackets, each wore finely crafted chainmail.
When they saw the master and his niece descending the stairs, they pulled the hoods of their beautifully embroidered cloaks from their heads and began to bow.
Eloril, too, felt a little captivated as he descended. Straightening up, he asked:
- What brings you, dear gentlemen... - he first looked at the central elf: - ...Viniel de Reta... - then at the left one: - ...Rivule de Reta... - and finally at the right one, clearly the youngest: - Uril de Reta.
Viniel sighed:
"Please forgive us for barging into your home uninvited, Eloril de Vur, but we have a reason: there was a serious skirmish in the city between our people and the dark ones." The innkeeper narrowed his eyes and glanced again at their equipment. His companion noticed this and, forestalling the question, raised his right palm. "Nothing serious. They only used 'blinding' in the attack. After that, the dark one fled into the sewers."
Eloril raised his eyebrows expressively:
- 'Blinding'? Dark?
He nodded gloomily:
- And besides this, he also covered the passages with wood.
The innkeeper grimaced and, exchanging glances with his niece, summed up:
- Sounds like complete nonsense. If this is a joke, now's the time to 'ha-ha'...
Viniel sighed:
- But it is so.
"Pfft! Okay then. Anything is possible. A Dark One who uses Light and Life in battle... Why not? But why did you come to me? It seems Lady Elmayr is still alive. I saw her just the day before yesterday. Go to her—you won't find a more experienced mage outside the Great Forest. No joke—she fought through the entire Twilight War!" Eloril exclaimed, even throwing up his hands at the end.
Viniel exchanged glances with his companions and said hesitantly:
"We went straight to her. But..." he hesitated. "Basically, she huddled in a corner, shaking with terror. Liel told us she'd been like that since midday."
Eloril's eyes widened:
"Elmayr, was she scared of something? That can't be! She speaks to the Guardians of Peace as equals! What could have happened? She didn't say anything? Maybe the Council of Princes... that's nonsense!"
Viniel sighed again and, hesitating, said:
- Well...she just kept saying that the Blood Prince came to see her, which means Atesh will come for her personally soon...
The owner closed his eyes and even covered them with his hands, running his fingertips through his hair:
"Oh, Guardians of the Cursed Valley! The Bloody Prince?... What else did she see? We need to go to her and bring her back to her senses... Otherwise, all the trees in the park will shed their leaves!" He glanced at his niece. "Eidael, you're with me. You can help if anything happens..."
"Well, now I've visited my uncle..." the elf sighed, quickly running out into the street after him.
*****
As we walked, I stole glances at my hands, which were dripping with the blood of the dark one I had killed.
She wasn't even thinking about absorbing it. Apparently, a spell from the Healing School was needed to start the process.
While I was hesitating whether to use it while moving in front of everyone, we reached the passage with the stairs from the house.
I was the second-to-last one to climb the steps. Behind me was only a half-breed carrying a torch. Just as I was about to step onto the stairs, a movement in the darkness caught my attention. Glancing up, I saw a very thin, barefoot woman hanging over the dirty water. She wore a short, fitted gray dress with a deep, sharp neckline between her breasts, almost reaching down to her lower abdomen. She had dazzling white skin and lush hair. She could even be called attractive, except she had no eyes. Instead, there were two holes from which a thick, gray mist of Death's mana oozed. Furthermore, her thin, almost graceful, fingers flowed smoothly into sharp, slightly curved short claws.
I know who she is. I've seen her several times. Only a few can boast of that.
I bow my head respectfully and kneel, not paying attention to the fact that the dark elf's hair on my shoulder has fallen into the dirt.
"Did something happen?" the half-breed asked, turning his head from side to side.
He doesn't see her?
"What's there?" Haalen asked, running down the steps.
I, not paying any attention to them, humbly said:
- Great Goddess of Death Atesh, to what do I owe your personal attention?
Hearing this, the half-breeds instantly turned pale. Haalen peered around the corner, but I don't think he saw her either. However, he clearly saw something else in the darkness—the abundant mana of Death pouring out onto the muddy stream a little to the side. This effect instantly purified the water, making it clearer than a tear and immediately beginning to freeze.
The half-breed dropped the torch on the floor and ran past Haalen in horror, shouting:
- Fire! Fire! Tu-u-ut! She tu-u-ut!...
The goddess floated closer and hovered just a step in front of me. A thick, gray mist poured down onto the stone and flowed off into the water, just short of me. Under this influence, the stone melted before my eyes like ice.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Haalen stumble and, falling backwards onto the stairs, quickly crawl up them, looking with fear at the place where the flow of Death mana was being born.
Atesh looked at him with interest and I quickly said:
"Please, don't punish them for their disrespect. Perhaps if you had shown yourself to them, their reaction would have been different..."
The Goddess of Death turned her attention to me.
It became very cold.
Meanwhile, Atesh grinned slightly and I heard her voice, which consisted of thousands of voices sounding simultaneously, but very clearly:
"It's natural for mortals to fear me. I symbolize the end of their path, something they can't escape, not even for the money in the world. In their foolishness, they don't revere me... Over my long existence, I've realized one thing: it's foolish to seek the respect of the short-lived. They, like rats, don't recognize the inevitability of the end and live for the present. At the same time, the longer a creature lives, the more it reveres me..."
The goddess pointed her finger toward the stairs, and I tore my gaze away with difficulty to see the Archmage kneeling on the top step. And there he was, looking at her.
When I returned my gaze, I almost jumped back: while my attention was distracted, Atesh had leaned toward me and was currently staring intently somewhere deep into my chest. The sensation was incredibly eerie. As if she had grabbed my heart with her icy claws and was massaging it.
To distract myself, I began to look at the neckline of the dress that was revealed to me.
Each goddess is beautiful in her own way. And the Goddess of Death fits this criteria perfectly. It's a completely different matter that to court Atesh, you'd have to be not only a desperate brave man, but also incredibly powerful...
The next second, the Goddess took my chin with the fingers of her right hand and, looking into my eyes, said, slightly raising her left eyebrow:
"You're an impudent fellow," she concluded, straightening up. The goddess released me and said, pointing to the elf on my shoulder: "Don't kill her. She, like you, is the last of... Without her House, this world will lose much."
"As you command, my lady." I bowed my head slightly. Atesh, without taking her eyes off me, began to turn away. I decided to ask her: "Forgive me, but who am I?"
She was clearly surprised:
"You still don't remember?" She chuckled. "You're all that's left of House Autwy. Remember quickly: time waits for no one. Just like our agreement..."
With these words, she disappeared. The gray mist swirled in the air for the last time and fell down.
'...Autvi's House.' This phrase began to reverberate within me, giving birth to a multi-voiced echo.
Oh, Gods... I remembered...
'I have decided to announce a second recruitment drive.'
'And who will you recruit there? Artists? Bakers? Children and women who have never killed a living creature larger than a mouse in their lives?'
'If necessary!'
'You've gone mad!... Even if we somehow miraculously take Alehetorne, we won't be able to hold it! The losses will be monstrous! Those who don't die will lose their minds! Our people! They will disappear! There will be nothing left to rule!'
'Silence!!!! You will obey me! Or...'
'Or what? Will you kill me?'
'No. However, imprisonment will be good for you. Prolonged imprisonment... Guardians of Peace! Imprison Prince Ilthariel in the Prison of Eternity!'
And I did it. I went against my mother...
'Stop! You serve not only the Throne! Not only Autwy! You serve the Great Forest!'
And they stopped and even backed away.
I remembered everything.
'Oh, so that's it??!! I didn't want to kill you, my son, but if there's no other way... May Ertan forgive me...'
Irullel's dead body lies on marble slabs that have been pulled out of the floor.
Collapsed columns and ceiling.
Trees clutching debris in their arms.
Statues of ancestors shattered into pieces.
Only the cursed Throne survived. The one thing I'd always hated and wanted to throw into the Between Worlds somehow survived the rampage of the Forces.
I kneel down in front of Irullel's broken body.
'I didn't want to kill you either, Mother. But it will be better for the Great Forest. Don't worry. I will not sit on your throne. The war has disfigured me too much. Aviléa will be the next Ruler. I believe in her...'
My vision is clouded by tears. My hand removes the Ring of Autwy from her index finger, the most important attribute of our power over the Great Forest.
I wanted to give it to Aviléa. But when I arrived at the appointed meeting, she was already dead. An ambush. Her guards were riddled with jagged, white-feathered arrows, and she herself, seemingly unharmed, lay beneath their bodies.
And this broke me completely.
Even now, when what happened is half-forgotten, I feel terrible pain.
The rings hanging on a mithril chain beneath the dark one's bloodied jacket seemed to sting my flesh. I wanted to rip them off and throw them straight into the stream, but when I glanced at him, I saw that he was frozen solid.
With a heavy sigh, I rose from my knees and began to climb the empty stairs.