Her

Her long skirts drifted down the stairs as she floated down, her tattered train shortly following.

Her deep eyes gazed around the small room, almost as though she was bored.

Her lips were set in a thin line.

She had come for one reason. And one reason only.

To eliminate the Modeste warlock.

Her loved one had been slaughtered by that particular warlock bloodline. And she wanted to return the favour.

She had got rid of all of their descendants, except one.

He had evaded her at every turn, moving from town to town, village to village.

But she had finally tracked him down.

He had slept last night, not knowing that she was staring at him from the foot of his bed.

She hadn't killed him then. She wanted to see his face, the pain, the sadness, the regret, as his life faded away in front of him.

She had done the same to his father. He had never met him.
His mother was pregnant when what she thought was the last Modeste had been brutally murdered.

But their was a child. A powerful child at that. But he would soon be gone. And she could settle in her grave with her beloved husband, finally at peace.