"Anlêc"

The heat radiating from Erdudvyl's hands as they rested on Loldirr's broken rib brought ease to her aching and tired body. As the sharp pain subsided and her breathing became eased, Loldirr relaxed into the bed where she lay.

Part of her wanted Erdudvyl to spread her powers across her whole body, allowing the bruising around her chest and back to subside and the inflammation around her neck to lessen. She could still feel the vice-like grip of the Shadow around her neck, squeezing agonisingly tight, and every time she swallowed, it felt like bees brutally stinging her throat.

Realistically, though, she only want Erdudvyl to deal with her rib, then she could have an excuse to lay in bed for the next few days. She deserved a rest, and with the snows starting to fall, nothing else felt more appealing than huddling up underneath the covers of her goose feathered duvet.

"You do realise you could probably have done this yourself?" Erdudvyl chuckled as she could see the sense of relief flowing through Loldirr.

Loldirr hadn't thought of that. Manipulating fire, earth and air had been a natural part of her journey. In the past, she had also subconsciously influenced water, so in theory, she could restore some life as well. How that worked, exactly, remained a mystery to her.

"What about the scar on your cheek?" Erdudvyl asked, rubbing her hand along the discoloured indentation underneath her eye. "You can remove blemishes like that if it's not serious."

Loldirr recalled the day the Shadow had given her this 'gift', "Every day I can feel my powers grow, sometimes I frighten myself with what I'm capable of," she responded hoarsely, "but every time I see or touch this scar, it reminds me that I am still mortal."

Erdudvyl nodded, her answer impressing her greatly, "Words of wisdom indeed."

Retelling the stories of their adventures had been a pleasant change of pace from the battle that had been fought earlier today, and seeing Erdudvyl's beautiful smile, despite appearing extremely tired, had given Loldirr what she needed to rest into her bed with ease.

There were plenty of celebrations in her name throughout all of Ravenscourt. The Fæordic had set up camps outside of the city and could be heard for miles around, while the people of Ravenscourt had found anything that resembled a phoenix and placed it high throughout the entire city.

Loldirr was a hero, although she didn't feel like one right now.

As the door to her room opened, Ethelston waltzed in dressed in more appropriate attire than the blood-stained leather of his armour. Erdudvyl coyly stared at him, admiring every one of his steps. Pushing strands of hair behind her ear and the way that Ethelston's gaze lingered on her, it did not take long for Loldirr to recognise the signals.

"Wait, are you two?" Loldirr asked, not realising that she had actually spoken the question.

The smile on Erdudvyl's face answered the question as it shone brighter than ever before. As Ethelston sat on the edge of the bed, even his smug look had been replaced with something else. Pride perhaps?

"When and how did that happen?" Loldirr asked.

"There are some mysteries in this world that can not be answered, " Erdudvyl joked. "Anyway, I must take my leave; I believe you and Ethelston have things to discuss?"

"Yes," confirmed Loldirr deep in thought, "thank you for everything. We must continue our discussions tomorrow."

"Indeed," confirmed Erdudvyl. As she stood to her feet, she faced Loldirr and curtsied, "my Empress."

Spinning around towards the exit, Loldirr felt unease at the title and how her mentor had now positioned herself as a subordinate. The concern had telegraphed itself on her face when Etheslton responded, "It's a title that you must become familiar with. After today, all of the realms of humans will know of your legend. Even I'm envious of the moniker Wraithslayer!"

Fame and prestige were not what she had planned when she had dreamt of adventures in the previous winter. From hunting in the forest outside Greenhaven to beginning a crusade to retake her Empire, it had been a long and arduous process. The adventure had been far beyond what she expected, and it had not been a welcome one. The loss she had felt, the power that she had gained, it was becoming harder to know what was right and wrong, especially now it was apparent that her decisions could determine the very fate of the entire world.

"I wanted to ask you, Ethelston, and you don't have to answer if you do not wish, but do you enjoy killing?" she asked, nervous for the response.

Ethelston smirked as he looked to the floor, "It's never an easy question to answer, especially after killing so many. I've never taken much pleasure from it, though seeing the death of some does give me greater satisfaction than others. What is it that concerns you?"

Loldirr sighed profusely. "The more I do it, the easier it becomes. Today, feeling the warmth of blood on my skin did not give me sickness, but something else, almost pleasure. It disturbs me."

Ethelston placed his hand on hers, attempting to reassure her in the process. "The more you kill, the easier it does get, yet the day that you stop concerning yourself of your actions is the day that you should worry. I've known men who take great pleasure in seeing the death of another or performing the act themselves, that some even get aroused by such actions. For me, that sense of joy, of pleasure, is a line I hope I never cross. Each time you have an opportunity to take a life, ask yourself one question. Why?"

As the words sank in, Loldirr's eyes focused on the rising moon outside the window.

"Not everyone deserves to die, just as not everyone deserves to live. Today you believed that many Fæordic warriors deserved to live, and you stood in their place to give judgement to Sir Pykeston. Some in your position would not hesitate to stand behind the scores of warriors for protection, yet you rushed quickly to their aid. Your wisdom already exceeds mine, even for one so young, so trust in that." explained Ethelston.

Loldirr twisted her hand and took hold of his, facing him once more. "My wisdom comes from those around me. I made the mistake of not listening to your father; please don't ever leave me Ethelston, I fear that only you will be the one that steers me towards humanity, especially as my abilities grow and the realm of possibilities widen."

"I will always stand by you, my leige." Ethelston smiled.

"Gods, don't you start calling me that!" chuckled Loldirr as she nuzzled back into her pillow.

Their laughter echoed throughout the room as only candles and moonlight gave dwindling light.

"I must bid you good evening, my lady, " explained Ethelston, "tomorrow will be another long day, though fortunately no battles will be fought."

As Loldirr laid her down in her bed, she replied, "Indeed, and thank you," watching as Ethelston stood to his feet and exited the room.

With her head melting into the feathered goose pillow, Loldirr wondered whether her thoughts would betray her sleep and whether her exhausted but troubled mind would quieten enough for a few hours of peace.

As her eyes closed, her troubled mind had already started pushing for discomfort and distress, but as the turmoil continued, it was not coming from her mind; it was coming from something else.

Opening her eyes once more, Loldirr scanned the darkroom to find what was bothering her, yet the room was quiet and completely lifeless.

Once again, she closed her eyes, determined to try and gain some much-needed rest, but each time she did, it felt like she was not alone.

"Who's there?" she asked.

The room responded with painful silence.

"I said, who's there?" she asked again only to be greeted with the sound of her ragged, disjointed breathing.

Laying her head on the pillow once more, she tried closing her eyes, but the feeling of someone else being there could not escape her. Despite the uncomfortable sense, she could not hear anything else within the room.

The uneasy feeling became unbearable as her head raised once more. As light radiated from her fingertips, she called out again, "Answer me, who's there?"

"Death!"

A silhouette at the edge of the room burst into life, revealing a cloaked figure who had probably been there for some time. Instinctively, he launched a dagger directly for Loldirr's heart, yet her alertness manoeuvred herself to receive the blade deep in her arm.

She screamed and cursed as the blade sank deep. As the hooded figure jumped onto the bed, the last thing she could see was the golden spider on his emblem before feeling the feathered goose pillow cover her face in its entirety.

Her arms and legs flailed wildly as she could not breathe. The burning pain from breathlessness was becoming more intense, and as her failed attempts to inhale were becoming more desperate, all she could feel was death. Not her death, but his, the breathless man on top of her. Another Death Wraith.

This Death Wraith was different. With Sir Pykeston, she always felt rage and bitterness. With this one, it was sorrow and vengeance, but they both had the same purpose, to serve the Necromancer.

As her attempts to breathe became more futile, she tried to grab Death's Bain, which she had placed on the side of the bed, at least she thought she had, yet this Death Wraith had likely removed it and made any attempt to survive, useless.

A loud bang shuddered the room, followed by another. The hinges on the door rattled angrily as the person trying to enter the room hit the door with absolute venom.

Just as her consciousness was fading, the pressure on the pillow subsided. As she quickly pushed it off her face, coughing and spluttering, the door had battered its way open, breaking a desk to the side of it.

Standing at the entrance was Ethelston and two guards, all armed and standing menacingly at the assassin.

"The Widow Maker?" one guard responded as they instantly caught their gaze at the golden spider.

"But, he's dead?" the other asked mystified.

Ethelston knew all too well what this meant and the difficulty with the task at hand. A live Widow Maker would have been a tough man to defeat. An undead one, though? Never before had he felt so unsure of his abilities that the feeling was foreign to him, and his uncertainty made him nervous. "One of you, get help now!" he ordered.

Almost fighting at the opportunity to sound the alarm, the guards' concentration took their focus away from the cloaked Death Wraith in front of them, and within a split second, he was upon them. Grabbing hold of one soldier's sword arm, he twisted and cracked it with ease, causing an almighty cry of anguish throughout the room and the corridors. Before the sword could fall, the Widow Maker had it in his hand and painted it red with the blood from the soldier's neck.

His speed, his agility, his skill, it was almost superhuman.

The Widow Maker's pose had steadied to one that was prepared for a fight; his bright lifeless white eyes focused on Ethelston and the remaining guard.

Ethelston tried to position himself so that his prey was between him and the guard, despite the available space within the confines of the room. As the Widow Maker's back was turned away from the remaining guard, the guard struck.

Except the Widow Maker was using this as an opportunity to gain the upper hand.

As the guard attacked, he twisted expertly away from the assault, using his momentum to slice deep into his abdomen. The guard's sword clattered to the floor as he attempted to hold in his organs, but as he fell to the floor in a pool of his blood, it did not take long for him to breathe his last breath.

Ethelston cursed under his breath, losing two men before he had even had a chance to react; this creature was an instrument of death that even he could not have a chance to defeat.

He quickly glanced over to Loldirr before flicking back, hoping to see if she was ok, but that small instance was all the invitation the Widow Maker needed.

Lunging forward, his sword flung around like a paintbrush, painting his masterpiece of death. Ethelston was initially equal to it, repelling and parrying the attacks, but each became more vicious, more precise, which meant all he could do was concede or advance.

Choosing to advance, Ethelston used his second sword to swing around in assault, causing the Widow Maker to duck skilfully under the attack. Before he realised it, the Death Wraith was in his personal space and slicing deep into his attacking arm.

Ethelston's sword clattered to the floor, and his arm started dripping in blood. Fortunately, instinctively, Etheslton had defended, but he knew that the Widow Maker was no longer his prey but had turned into the predator.

The stinging pain was excruciating, but Ethelston was focused, hoping he could survive long enough for help to arrive.

The Widow Maker lunged forward, encouraging Ethelston to defend before faking the attack for a twist in the opposite direction and slicing deep into his thigh.

Ethelston angrily cried before collapsing to the floor. Throughout all the years as a mercenary, he had humiliated several opponents, but this was the first time it had happened to him. The Widow Maker deliberately prolonged the fight, doing what he could to show who was the better fighter, but as he stood over Ethelson, standing on the hand of his remaining sword, Ethelston knew his time was over.

He had often faced death, yet for the first time, he did not want to embrace it. As the blade to bring his demise hovered over him, his thoughts moved to Erdudvyl, a woman that had shown him that life was worth living. He wanted to hold her one last time before he would say goodbye, and to be denied that opportunity hurt more than the lacerations in his arm and leg.

For year's he had lived for himself without fear of the consequences, and for the last few months, he had fought for others and was about to lose everything as a result. Yet, these few months had been some of the best few months of his life.

He smiled, watching intently the man that was to end his existence before the blade came down with ferocity.

Ethelston gasped, expecting the pain to be intense, but there was no pain, just a blade that hovered mere inches from his chest.

Looking towards the Widow Maker, anguish had now painted itself on Death Wraith's face. He could not move, yet he fought hard to combat a new enigma that neither of the men had expected.

Ethelston's eyes flicked over towards Loldirr, who had her hand raised towards the Death Wraith. It trembled excessively, and her face seemed drained of all life. As she shook, so did the Widow Maker, while all Ethelston could do was lay there with a blade mere centimetres from his heart.

"By dôð strangnesflânhred sîð, êower ârweorðian mîn" Loldirr called, gritting her teeth in anguish.

A wind seemed to create itself within the room, a tempest which focused itself around the Widow Maker. Items started flinging themselves wildly against the walls and the ceiling, yet despite the chaos around them, the energy seemed focused entirely on Loldirr and the Widow Maker.

"By dôð strangnesflânhred sîð, êower ârweorðian mîn" she called again, her voice gaining more determination and anger.

This time the Widow Maker screamed in anguish, the tip of the sword easing into Ethelston's chest. He could feel the blood oozing from the wound, and the pain seemed more intense than the other injuries sustained earlier, yet his focus was on the confusing turmoil around him. Whatever was happening was something he had never experienced or heard of before.

"By dôð strangnesflânhred sîð, êower ârweorðian mîn" Loldirr called again, this time her eyes turned black, and her whole body shook violently.

With her final words, the Widow Maker was torn away from Ethelston, flung into the air like a ragdoll before laying on the floor entirely still. As quickly as it had started, the storm died down to nothing, and the only sound left in the room was the irregular breathing of Loldirr and Ethelston.

Within moments more soldiers had come sprinting to the room, eager to check on their Empress and get their Duke back to his feet.

Loldirr sat there, wide-eyed, on her bed. The bright greens of her pupils had returned, but the death look on her face remained as if a part of her had been stripped bare from the encounter. As soldiers came to her aid, the Death Wraith movement caused all in the room to be on edge.

As the Widow Maker gingerly stood to his feet, Ethelston took one look at him and shouted, "Execute him, behead him immediately!"

"NO!" called out Loldirr to everyone's confusion.

"Loldirr, what are you doing?" Ethelston asked, confused as the creature who had been tasked to kill her just moments ago now stood in the centre of the room.

All guards not helping Ethelston and Loldirr were stood at the ready, their swords raised high, awaiting the order to strike, but with Loldirr regaining her uneven breathing, no order came.

"You are not to harm him," Loldirr responded in a way as if every word that she spoke was painful and unbearable, "that are my final instructions on the matter.

Confused by the situation, Ethelston looked at her before focusing on the Widow Maker. His turmoil was confounded even more as the Death Wraith knelt on the floor.

Slowly removing his hood to reveal his scared, damaged skull and bright white eyes, he gazed towards the Duke of Ravenscourt. As he spoke words for the first time, his accented voice was hoarse and strained as if he had not spoken for some time, but his words were more powerful than anyone in the room could ever have imagined.

"I am Sir Gervais Vanderbilt, the Widow Maker. Once the spymaster of Emperor Arnaud III, until my untimely death at the hands of the witch Nimue. I was manipulated into the Necromancer's service as an agent of evil, tasked with the assassination of Erdudvyl Ar Moal and Loldirr Aex-Igh. Tonight, my lady, the Elemental Sorceress, Loldirr Aex-Igh, has manipulated the sixth sphere, the sphere of death. In doing so, she has released my bonds from the Necromancer, and until released from service, I am under her charge."

The room fell silent with all within it trying to understand what had just been said. It was when Ethelston turned towards Loldirr's exhausted and anguished face that the silence was no more.

With a slight smile on her lips, Loldirr looked towards Sir Gervais and said, "I now have my first Death Wraith."