The shadows loomed large over Camelot, and the stench of evil and wickedness always hung in the air.

All the loyal knights, the Knights of the Round Table, were gone. Either dead or deserted, the wretched traitors.

We honor the loyal ones, the ones who died in order to protect our King:

Sir Leon

Sir Percival

Sir Lancelot

We spit curses at the names of those who deserted:

Sir Gwaine

Sir Elyan

Sir Mordred

The King's evil stepsister, Morgana Pendragon, successfully overthrew His Majesty and now reigns as the Supreme Queen of Camelot.

She uses her Shadow-Guard, creatures made out of nightmares and the deepest black magic, to control the peasants, to make sure none of them revolt. None do anyways. They are too weak, and too scared.

But there is a revolution brewing. Many have strategized ways to infiltrate Morgana's palace and kill her. They have found out the weaknesses to her Shadow-Guard, to the barrier of magic she keeps around herself as protection. But there is one thing they can never figure out how to defeat.

Cwealm.

He is the living embodiment of death itself. No one knows who he was before Morgana's takeover, only that he is considered the biggest traitor of them all.

He switched sides.

It was rumored that he once fought alongside the King himself, but was turned to the dark side.

The revolution will live; I have sworn myself to that cause and I will not let it down.

My name is Lifwynn.

Once upon a time, my name meant life.

Well, this life is going to bring death upon death itself.

A large, dreary cloud covered up the sun, darkness riding throughout the land like the once-fabled Knights of Camelot. The only thing that lit up the small lowertown was the torches and fires, scattered throughout the city.

I notched my arrow and kept it pointed down, my hawk-like eyes surveying the area for my next target.

There.

A woman was riding a beautiful Palomino, her fiery orange hair twisted into an elaborate knot on her head. She wore a long, black dress (the required color for women to wear, a law that Morgana declared) with flowing sleeves. She had buck teeth, and her eyes sparkled with delight as another member of the Shadow-Guard ripped a person away from their home.

It was Lady Tremaine, one of Morgana's council members. And the resistance's next target.

I tightened my grip on my bow and steadied myself on the rooftop of a nearby house.

"Elizabeth Goldsburry," the woman shrilled, and I winced. Her voice was high and squeaky, cracking at all the opportune moments. "Why do you not wear the required color, decreed by Her Majesty?"

"I-It was my wedding day, milady," stuttered the woman. Her skin was dark, like the color of mahogany wood. The brilliant, yet simple, white dress she wore made her look beautiful, regal even. "I-I know Morgana has decreed..."

"What. Did. You. Just. Say?" growled Tremaine, raising a delicate eyebrow. I clenched my jaw and wanted nothing more than to release this arrow on her smug face, but my signal hadn't come yet.

"I-I'm so s-sorry, milady, I meant to say Her Highness," stumbled Elizabeth, falling to her knees as the Shadow-Guard pushed her. Mud splashed up all around, staining her beautiful gown. "Please, milady, I will wear my black gown t-tomorrow."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Tremaine purred, waving her finger back and forth. "Her Majesty has made the rules very clear. If you would be so kind." She gestured for the Shadow-Guard, and the man ripped out a large sword. I resisted the urge to gasp and never felt happier than when a high-pitched whistle sounded.

I pulled my string taunt, took perfect aim, and released it.

It embedded itself into the Shadow-Guard's head, causing it to be dazed. I grinned widely.

David and Percy were right about the flower after all! I cheered silently as I notched another arrow. I let it fly and this time, it embedded itself into the Shadow-Guard's heart. The creature stood still, twitching, before falling down, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

Gotta love mistletoe.

"What the...?" Tremaine screeched, just as four men raced out of the nearby houses. Each were decked in black as well, but one attribute stood out: A long, silver arrow printed on their chests.

The symbol of Lifwynn.

The men grabbed Tremaine and ripped her off her horse. Once they were done, one of them leaped onto the Palomino and rode off, making as little noise as possible.

"Get your filthy hands..." Tremaine tried to cry out, but one of the men shoved a dirty rag into her mouth, silencing all her objections. I carefully slid off the house I was on, making a perfect dismount onto the -ground. I put my bow safely around my torso before running towards the safe-house. As I passed the one with Elizabeth, she looked up and gasped.

"Y-You're..." she stuttered, unable to complete her sentence. I knelt beside her and offered her my hands. She looked at me hesitantly, but eventually grabbed them. I helped her stand up and brushed the mud out of her face. "Thank you."

"I suggest you stay indoors and shut the shudders," I warned her. "Once they find Tremaine missing, they will send guards out." Elizabeth nodded hurriedly in agreement.

"May I give something to you?" she asked tentatively. "As a token of my thanks." I was about to interject, saying that seeing her alive was enough thanks, when she took off a old, golden locket I didn't realize she was wearing and handed it to me. I looked at her, astonished, but she had already gone back inside.

Smiling, I easily clipped the necklace around my own neck before heading back towards the guys.

"So, mistletoe is their weakness. Who'd have thought?" chuckled one of the men, ripping off his hood. A mess of black hair tumbled out, and the fire-light danced in his hazel eyes.

"Don't let David or Percy hear you," I warned him, looking down at our prisoner. She raised her eyes to meet me, and narrowed them. I wasn't dressed like normal peasant women. Instead, I wore black dress with a silver corset on top. The dress stopped at my knees, and I wore leggings underneath it, with black boots to match. I had a black cloak on, which fell to my feet. My usually dull, golden hair glimmered in the faint light, its braid trailing all the way down to the tips of my hair. "Tremaine." At that cue, the raven-haired man yanked the clothe out of her mouth.

"That is Lady Tremaine to you, peasant!" she hissed. "If you think you can speak to me like this, you are sadly mistaken. Her Majesty will..."

"Never know what happened to you," I smirked. I took off my bow and notched an arrow. I drew it back and aimed it right towards Tremaine's heart. I noticed she paled significantly.

"Y-You wouldn't k-kill me," she stuttered, swallowing hard. "You are the Lifwynn. You are life itself. Life does not kill."

"Perhaps," I said, shrugging. "But then again, who says anything about killing?" I released the arrow and it struck true. Tremaine instantly passed out, and one of the guards caught her. "So, this mistletoe is supposed to do what now?"

"According to David," said the black-haired man as they silently observed the two men picking Tremaine up. "It is supposed to dull her senses so much she will not know she is living. Everyone around her will believe her to be dead."

"Perfect," I purred. "Thank you, Adkin." He nodded to me and gave me a toothy grin.

"So, we're called the Lifwynn now?" Adkin teased, nudging me with his elbow. I blushed profusely and turned away, not daring to look him in the eyes. "How's that doing for your ego?"

"Shut up and let's get out of here."

Adkin let out a throaty laugh and we caught up with the other members of our band. Silently through the cover of nighttime, we made our escape out of Camelot.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, slipping the bow off of my body. I gently laid the wooden weapon across the tablecloth, slipping off the quiver as well. Adkin folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the entrance to my room.

We successfully got out of Camelot under the cover of nighttime without alerting any of the Shadow-Guard. Now, we resided in the cave we had discovered at the beginning of the rebellion.

"The men want a status update," Adkin told me, running his fingers through his thick hair. "What do I tell them?"

"The truth, as always," I reprimanded. "We never keep secrets from them. Tell them Lady Tremaine will not be bothering anyone for a long time." Adkin nodded, but made no move to leave. "Do you need something, Adkin?"

"The rumors have started up again."

I groaned and slammed a fist onto the table in front of me. I resisted the urge to punch my fist against the wall. Ever since I was elected the leader of the rebellion, there had been rumors spreading.

That I wasn't fit to be the leader, since I was a female.

That I was planning to settle down the next time a good man comes along.

That I wanted every single male in the rebellion to flirt with me so I could make a good decision.

"Once I find who started those rumors, I will gut them alive," I growled, turning to stomp towards the door. Adkin took two steps forward and held his arm out, preventing me from moving anywhere.

"And what kind of message will that send?" Adkin questioned me, raising an eyebrow. I growled in frustration and stomped over to my bed.

"Oh, I don't know, that none of the rumors are true and I just want them to stop?" I groaned, flopping onto my bed. I sighed. "Why me?"

"Anyways," Adkin coughed, deliberately moving on to a new subject. "Who's our next target?"

I sat up and started counting off using my fingers. "Well, we have Tremaine, Odeassa, and Kraigarn. Now, all that's left is Vexacion, Sabre, Ebony, and..." I trailed off, my eyes narrowing. "Cwealm."

"Oh, I can't wait until we kill that guy," Adkin grumbled, clapping his hands together happily.

I tilted my head in confusion. "What makes you think we're going to kill him?"

Adkin looked at me incredulously. "Uh...have you seen yourself? You're obsessed with destroying him. You know, 'well, life is going to bring death to death itself' and all that sort of thing."

"You read my journal!" I exclaimed. I always kept my journal in a safe, secure location for this very reason. "Adkin!"

"I did not, and for the record, it's a diary."

"It's a journal."

"Which was written by a girl. Basically the same thing."

I snorted and gave a small smile. "Well, we'll figure out what to do with Cwealm later. Goodnight, Adkin. You did a good job."

"You too, Wynn."

A consistent dripping noise filled the echoing dungeon. It was enough to drive a man mad.

Oh, wait.

It did.

Cwealm folded his arms across his chest, watching in satisfaction as another member of the resistance fell prey to his torture technique and began spewing out information. Cwealm's chief torturer, Nadir, a darker skinned man, turned back to him and smiled wickedly.

"It worked, just as you said, my Lord," he chuckled, giving Cwealm a short nod of respect. "Soon, the Lifwynn will not be able to stop Her Majesty's takeover of the Five Kingdoms."

"That is the plan, Nadir," Cwealm replied. His voice was scratchy and raw. He hadn't used it since the torture method started. Which was what, nearly five days ago? "Although, the machine isn't working fast enough. By the time we have our information, Morgana is in a fit. There has already been another attack."

"Geez, those rebels don't let up, do they?" Nadir commented as he scribbled down everything the resistance member cried out. "Who'd they get this time?"

"Tremaine."

"Thank goodness," laughed Nadir, stuffing the gag back into the prisoner's mouth. "I can't say I'm sad to see her get captured."

"Can anyone, really?" Cwealm snorted.

"So, what's with the new getup?" Nadir asked as the two men stepped outside of the cell. "I mean, you look good in black, but..."

Cwealm looked down at his outfit: a black, form-fitting shirt with belts wrapped around his torso for an extra layer of protection. He had black breeches with tall black boots that hugged his calves. He wore the red-and-black cape he stole from a bandit and he had found a mask for the lower half of his face to disguise himself.

"Morgana said she didn't want me to remember my old life."

"Then what's with the neckerchief?"

Cwealm reached up and his fingers gently brushed the bright red neckerchief that hung around his neck. Ever since he had gotten it, he had never taken it off.

"Spoils of war."