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The Arcane Order |
| She hefted her pack. Her quiver was secured
at her hip and her crossbow was as well. A nice... invigorating walk
should do her some good. They hadn't locked her away, which she was
thankful for... Unable to run the forests? It was something Myra
couldn't even bare to think about.
So off she went, to the strange new lands she had stumbled into just a few days ago. It was a long walk. She didn't know how many hours she just wandered, with no destination in mind. Many hours, or was it days? later she emerged through the moongate outside of Yew. She started off towards the Glade. She'd make a quick round through the Glade and then head home, where Aramir said he'd be waiting on her. She smiled, remembering Sinjun's words from earlier in the night. She wasn't alone in this. There were those who would try to help her. In whatever direction was best for her. She was thankful for that much. Other words rang through her mind then, darkening her mood considerably. "Who will be master when the master is destroyed?" She frowned. Who, indeed. She had a purpose in all of this, she was certain... but what it was, she had no idea. Surely it couldn't be such the noble quest of being a key in defeating Baal'morda. It couldn't be so simple. Nothing had been for a long while in her life. It seemed when it came to Baal'morda... answers to existing questions only raise more questions. Thinking on this, she wondered if the daemon himself had anything to do with it all. And if he did, would he have any real answers for her? Pausing in her walk she looked up and saw the entrance to the Crypts looming over her. A small stop to examine the interior couldn't hurt... right? She pushed open the heavy doors and made her way to the main area,
where the hideous pentagram of blood was forever stained on the floor.
It was oddly quiet. Perhaps Baal'morda had exerted his extent of power
in trying to stop the Ritual of Sundering. She sat there for many hours before sleep snuck up on her and over took her. She crept through the hallways. The scents around her burned her nose. Sulfur. Decay. Death. She rounded a corner and a great Balron loomed above her. She lowered her bow and gripped the dagger on her belt. "Your blade must cut deeply" Trenton Sythe had said to her. "You, Myra Sunveil, will be the one to strike down Baal'morda" he had said just moments before, after carving the fourth and seemingly final mark into her arm. The Balron merely looked down at her. Then he began to laugh. "What will you do with that, elf?! Perhaps I shall use it to pluck bits of you from my teeth!" it's voice bellowed and resounded off the walls. He gestured. The marks on her arms began to burn with intense pain. She whimpered but refused to cry out, charging at the daemon, intent on wounding him, knowing she could not kill him alone. The pain in the marks was crippling and she fell to her knees. She looked up to see figures stepping out of the shadows surrounded the daemon and her. Her friends. Many people. She could recognize a few faces. Thrand. Melyanna. Aramir. Glor. Sinjun. Strongbow. Khalin, or Kesar as she had learned to call him. And many many others she called friend. Even a few she didn't. K'ryn. Trenton Sythe. At first relieved, her spirits fell to terror when they moved forward and grabbed her, half dragging, half carrying the kicking and screaming Myra to an altar. It seemed they all had a hand in holding her down. Tears streamed down her face in pain and fear. Aramir's voice was accusing, "You left me." Strongbow looked down on her in frustration. Glor held down one arm, looking at her and shaking his head in disappointment. Khalin stood at her feet, his crimson eyes staring into hers as he shouted "What have you done?!" K'ryn and Melyanna stood at her head, each with a hand in her hair, pulling back her head. Baal'morda loomed above her. He reached down with one taloned finger and cut easily through her leather tunic and into the tender flesh of her stomach. The pain was too much; she couldn't even muster a scream. Then the daemon reached into her abdomen and simply began pulling out organs. "You should die..." Mely's words echoed in her hazed mind, as blackness came to claim her. "You should have killed yourself, as I said" K'ryn scolded her. Trenton's image loomed in her mind's eye. His piercing green eyes mocking her as his cold empty laughter resounded through her mind and the world faded to black. |
The
Library Arcane: The Lord of the Dead