I know this chapter was a little too short, but I just had to give this chapter a lot of thought before updating. Enjoy.

It had been a fully stressful day for Cecil in the icy region of Baltus on the northern outskirts of the Realm, which was facing the territory of the primitive race just across the seas. Winter was fast approaching, which was definitely a bad sign for anyone who wanted to keep all his limbs together.

What are you saying, Cecil? It's always winter out here in Baltus, she thought to herself and a smile spread across her face. What had brought her to the Northern Reach was far greater than just looking for a living elsewhere. It had been an opportunity to get as far away from the border and it was certainly too good to pass up. She regretted leaving the boy there, hapless and likely to be hopeless as well.

She shook her head violently, pushing back the tears that welled in her eyes. The sun was going down and the temperatures were plummeting. She pulled her lambskin coat to her body, draped her hood over her head. Thick mist veiled her sight, making her journey much harder than it needed to be in any case.

She turned a left around an alleyway and went back to the major road. Lamps were lit brightly, and human and vehicle traffic was reduced to a minimum. Everyone was certainly scared of the Nightwalker. It was so bad that some decided to lock their doors while the sun was still up. The reason was clear- the Nightwalker was a brutal killer. The Nightwalker killed virtually everything- livestock, plants, wild animals and humans. The government had done everything possible to catch the troublemaker. But every single time, the Nightwalker eluded them.

The patrollers were already out as far as she could see. Checkpoints were established across the roads, stern-eyed patrollers checking out every detail of the individuals. They had to be stern. The patrollers had not escaped multiple casualties to the Nightwalker, who was forming a very bold habit of killing openly.

Her home was not far away as she could see it through the lighting. Doubtless, the maids and farmers would be gossiping and speculating as to why she wasn't home yet. There was just this general sense of fear at night and Cecil felt it creeping into her skin. It certainly didn't help that she didn't have a knowledge of the Fire Art.

She was so caught up in her thinking that she didn't notice someone creeping closely behind her. It was dark already, but the lamps certainly were providing enough light to see some feet in front of her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and she felt a shiver that was entirely fear-induced. She gulped and gasped for air. The worst thing she could do now was to attempt to run. If indeed this was the Nightwalker, her running would be futile and would cement her death.

The streets were almost deserted as the sight of her home grew larger. She could only be a few sprinting seconds away from it. Hope and determination grew in her and she began readying herself for a full sprint.

When she was sufficiently close enough to the house for the servants to see her, she simply bolted towards the door with blurring speed, fear, hope and mad determination propelling her forward. The door opened just as she was about running into it, the Nightwalker hot on her heels. She dived inside and the servant slammed the door shut, the impact it had on the rushing Nightwalker clear, a loud crunch sounding. She began breathing so fast and hard she thought she was going to hyperventilate.

"What happened out there, ma'am? Why were you so late today?" Her life-saving servant asked. She took a lot of time to calm herself down, her servants surrounding her with wide eyes.

When the servant saw she was still struggling, he barked for a bath to be readied for her. The servants scampered away, busying themselves with their needlework. He bent to her level, making eye contact.

"What happened, Miss Cecil? Why the delay? You're always back before any one of us" His eyes hardened. "Did any of those creatures trouble you?"

She managed a weak laugh. "No, they didn't, thanks for the concern. By the way, lockdown the house, no one leaves until clear sunshine tomorrow." She pushed herself to stand, her knees knocking against each other from the fastest run she'd ever managed.

"I don't see why you'd endorse that. You've never let all this about the Nightwalker get to you. You're always an early person."

"I'd take late person rather than dead person, don't you think?" Her voice lowered. "And I mean it. Nobody gets to leave. I'm pretty sure the Nightwalker would not like the fact that his perfect killing record is ruined, and the Nightwalker thinks I know something about him. He'd doubtless be lurking around right now."

The servant certainly didn't like what he had heard, since his jaw was set tightly. He tilted his head to show her respect and walked to another side of the house. Cecil knew that her decision would make the house lose serious money, but who would spend the money if they were all dead?

She was drained and was thankful for her servants who had readied her bathwater. A distant high-pitched scream pierced through the stillness of the night, making everyone jump, evidently shaken and startled. There were blasts of hot fire rippling before someone let out another scream.

Why is this always what I have to go through?, She thought. She should be used to this by now. She rubbed her fingers over her temples, trying to sooth her throbbing headache. She kept reliving the terrified sprint she'd had to take, the Nightwalker close behind her, close enough to touch her dress and the moment she'd taken that desperate dive. His hand had barely grasped her foot, nearly grabbing her back.

Then, without further ado, she slipped into the tub, drowning out her sorrows and fears behind her, molding the water over her and relaxing. She turned the temperature to a slight hot shade, letting the water course over her and clean her up.

Sleep came and she didn't fight it's iron grip.

****

The cold hit her full blast in the morning. The sun wasn't shining as winter clearly stole a few days ahead. Outside was eerily quiet and still after the horrors last night. Apparently, the Nightwalker had killed to his content as the smell of thick blood was conveyed to her nostrils. Looking around her, it appeared that the servants were still asleep, and considering the time of the day, she'd say that was impossible. She found herself still in the tub she used last night and pulled herself out.

Something terrible must be going on, she thought. She quickly draped herself in her robe and pulled on a skirt, wearing her slippers. She rushed to the servant room, pushing the door open as it let out a creek of protest. The small room had several mats in it, some too close to others on the floor. The room was left bare without décor, the only accessories there were lamps and a tub. Things were surprisingly neat, the clothes neatly piled per person. A shiver ran down her spine. The back door was wide ajar. Rushing out the door, her nostrils promptly drying up. Her servants were still absent from the farm and today was certainly not a festival day. What exactly was happening?

The wind blew a white piece of paper from the farm and she reached out to grab it. Strangely, this handwriting was not new to her. It even inspired a feeling of nostalgia in her. But who was it? Her servants couldn't write well, but this was written in polished Joran.

You have something I want, and I have something you want. Do anything stupid and there will be blood to pay. For each day that passes, I will send a hurtful thing to you and when you delay for too long, a dead body will be at your door. To guarantee the safety of your beloved, do not delay. You have a week until I begin my spree.

The letter was stamped with a heavy imprint of blood. Who had recognized her? Had anyone seen the connection? She shivered and hoped to the Spirits that they hadn't. Because if they had, certainly her relatives and her home city would be in trouble. But what did this have to do with her servants?

She ignored her instincts and walked towards the farm. There was a narrow path there with bushes on either side of it, making it perfect for an ambush. After all the Nightwalker certainly wouldn't risk being caught because of a stupid decision. She stopped in her tracks midway to the farm, sure she had heard something snap. Twigs littered the road, but she always took extra care in stepping around them. Something was behind her, watching her every move and was following her. To turn back now and run would be a mistake. The hairs on the back of her neck stood, fear creeping in. She tried to keep herself calm. It took a lot of will to move forward again, and resumed her normal pace. After a while she began to relax. The Nightwalker couldn't attack her. This was daylight. Though almost no one passed through this road, it still had a certain sense of security. Then she felt cold steel pressed against her throat, musk cologne washing over her. Well, life was fun while it lasted, she thought, before something pierced her, knocking her out.

Author's Note:

Characters are coming together now, so this would seem out of context. Vote and comment xD