My boots lifted a steady mist of dust from the worn floorboards beneath my feet as I entered the Howling Helot bar, taking in the shadowy aura that surrounded it, from the patrons to the vast painting of a bloodied slave that stretched the far wall within. Appropriate, considering what lurked beneath the outward exterior of what would otherwise be nothing but a 'normal' sinister tavern of drinkers and degenerates. Hooded eyes swivelled around at the sound of my entrance, grubby hands inching for wands among the empty bottles before weighing up the odds and deciding there was no threat presented by me.
I kept my hood low, glaring through my remaining good eye and making my way steadily over one of the darker corners, taking a seat next to another similarly robed and hooded figure. It would be hard to overhear us there and even harder to attempt a lip-read due to the low-light levels, the only illumination provided by a few feeble candles and cracks in the rotten walls, allowing some manner of untainted light to permeate the oppressive darkness all around me.
My hand never left the wand hilt beneath the black material I wore, nor did my guard slacken, just because I hadn't been assailed yet on all sides by ambushers. I was on dangerous territory here and to relax at all was to invite a swift death…or worse. A tap on the table summoned the heavyset bartender, a few coins buying a large tankard of ale I had no intention of drinking. "So, what do you think? Think he'll turn up?"
I looked over at my partner, frowning slightly when she was forthcoming with no immediate reply. Tiffany Danaan, with her youthful appearance and ever-eager expression, looked very out of place, her disguise just maintained by the black robes I'd given her earlier to try and blend in more. Well…she knew what she was doing and so far has managed to avoid attracting any unwanted attention to herself, to her credit.
"Hmm…?" My trainee apprentice of two years gave the slightest of starts and returned my gaze, eyes slightly far off and unfocussed. I sighed. Between stakeouts and training, I always wondered how she managed to not just have a long-standing relationship but also plan to get married in the coming week or so. Perhaps I hadn't worked her hard enough or something. Regardless, she'd been losing focus recently and now was when I needed her at her best, at her sharpest.
Tiffany Danaan was one of the few exceptional students to come out of the Auror training program and I knew that she'd make a valuable asset to the strength of the Auror forces, especially in those turbulent times when dark wizards kept cropping up all over the country like jack rabbits. I placed a hand on her shoulder to properly gain her attention. "Listen, Tiff… This is big. The culmination of our past year's of work. Concentrate now and we'll be through this in no time, got it?"
She nodded her assent just as the bar doors creaked open once more to reveal the solitary silhouette of a tall man emblazoned against the dusk orange skies outside. A hush fell throughout the bar, the idle mutter of drunks silenced at once as if by magic. Casting a glance around the dank room, he strode purposefully towards the bar, around it and past the bartender to a concealed door without a backwards glance. That was it. Lysander Kharn, dark wizard mercenary and facilitator of countless assaults on various sections of the Ministry of Magic was here. As Aurors, we're trained in the most advanced techniques of stealth, concealment, tactics, offensive spells to overcome opponents. Lysander Kharn is an expert at them all.
He had been, after all, an Auror until a year ago and one of our best. I should know… I learnt from him… But now he worked for the other side, using what he'd learnt to inflict pain upon those he once called friends and allies. My friends and allies… Mistress Morgana Pendragon had deemed him a threat that needs to be dealt with. I was assigned to this task with my apprentice, and so for the past six months, we'd tracked and tailed him until now, when we finally found the right opportunity to capture him, with the greatest chance of success. As of that moment, our mission had become active.
Tiffany and I had to take him in, alive…or dead. My preference lay with the former but I was prepared to do what I must. I rose from my seat, Tiffany in tow, and started for the bar, every sense strained for the first sign of a trap. Nothing… Pushing aside the swinging divider that separated the bartender's area from the rest of the bar, I headed for the door Kharn had just exited through.
The bartender, a broad-built man that towered head and shoulders over the pair of us, squinted at us through the gloom, dull eyes widening as he saw my face beneath the hood, recognised me as one he was to look out for. He reached for his wand, whipping it out with a speed that belayed his great size, a bolt of red flashing out and burning a hole where I've been standing.
I was already gone, sidestepping and slamming the heel of my palm into his jaw, other hand seizing his wand-hand wrist in a vice-like grip, driving a hand into the elbow joint in a single movement, snapping his arm like a dried twig. Simultaneously, I hurled him down, the solid thud rocking the floor beneath us. Even as I dealt with the bartender, Tiffany was in motion, hurling a potion bottle from beneath her robes, into the centre of the room where it exploded, engulfing the patrons of the bar in a thick, vermilion smoke that causes them to slump over unconscious in their seats, choking as the fumes take effect.
A groan of anguish rose from my feet as I produced my wand and aimed it at the bartender on the floor. I could see myself reflected back in his eyes, wide with a combination of fear and pain. A dark stormcoat hung from my broad shoulders, covering the light armour padding I effected beneath to reduce impacts and minor injuries, beaten and torn from past conflicts. My hair was cut to a practical short length, black, just like the eyepatch that covers the spot where I lost my left eye to a dark magic spell.
A sheathed knife hung from my belt, a tool most wizards overlook as crude or only good for muggles, one I still use to maximum effect when a quarry is foolish enough to only focus on the wand; the wand that is gripped in my hand, the wand that has duelled countless enemies and seen me through until now, the wand, which even now unleashed a devastating stunning spell as the bartender lunged for his wand with his other hand, blasting him into a coma-like state.
With a wave of her hand, Tiffany called me over to her, by the concealed door where our target had travelled through. She had her wand out, covering the now-still bar behind us, leaving me to take point. With another solid blast from my wand, I shattered the door, kicking aside smouldering pieces of wood and charged inside, Tiffany following a few seconds later, covering my back. Senses afire, wand crackling with dissipating energies, I advanced, into the dark, into danger, into the unknown… That was me… That is me…Alaric Ravenor, twenty-six years of age, Auror in the service of the Ministry of Magic, responsible for the capture or suppression of forty-seven dark witches and wizards. My force of will is strong, my duelling skills powerful, both essential when combating those dark magic users. What more needs to be mentioned now? Nothing… These things matter little. Come, let me show you how I killed Lysander Kharn…
--
Our feet led us down, down the steeped passageway beyond the door, sight becoming all but useless as the illumination of the bar above faded to nothing behind us. We were undaunted. We kept going until the ground levelled out and we found ourselves at our destination. A vast crypt waited for us, a breath the loudest sound to be heard in the dark chamber. All around us stone, cold to the touch and seemingly devoid of life, unrecognisable runes and etchings decorating them from where we stood all the way down its length and upwards towards the unnaturally vaulted ceiling above, beyond where we could see. We advanced in darkness, wrapping it around ourselves to hide our own presence just as it would for our adversaries. I could hear Tiffany's slow, steady breathing, feel the resolute set in her shoulders where her back was pressed against mine as I covered the front and she the back. She had my back. I had nothing to worry about except keeping my own senses primed for an ambush from the fore, the faintest of sounds, the slightest of movements…
The whistle of lethal spines whipping through the air, the flash in the dark as the missiles stabbed through the air towards me. Acting on the reflex born of countless hours of training and tribulation, my wand flicked out, bursts of magical light vaporising the projectiles inches from my body. The time for hiding had passed… The enemy could see us but we couldn't see them. I raised my wand before me, 'lumos' on my lips. White light burst from the tip of my wand, revealing the snarling face of an old man, lined and scarred, as he lunged from the blackness at me.
I drew back to unleash a curse, eye widening as a scorpion tail followed out of the unknown, slashing for my throat and a poisonous barb shooting from it in its passing. I stepped back, raising my wand up ready, gaze narrowing as I saw what I faced; a manticore, an old, and therefore more dangerous one, gnarled face running smoothly onto the feline body of a lion, scorpion tail poised over the body, raised to stab and spit more venomous projectiles my way. "Tiff?"
I risked a glance back towards her, wondering why she hadn't stepped up to my side to support me, and saw she had big enough problems of her own, several hundred pounds worth of it, moulded in the form of a chimera, a great lion with a hissing serpent emerging from where its tail should be. How they had approached us without alerting us, I could only surmise was Kharn's doing, aware of our pursuit and unleashing his primary defences upon us. Our intelligence stated he retained possession of such creatures as part of his protection as well as his cadre of 'loyal' dark coven who assisted in his tasks. But for that moment, it was only the former we had to worry about. No point worrying about something that would kill us later when we were already balancing on a knife-edge to survive.
My wand parried another hail of needle-like barbs and I rolled aside, dragging Tiffany with me as a gout of flames hissed from chimera's maw, searing the air above us, scorching the forearm I'd raised to protect us both. Cursing, I leapt to my feet, my junior doing the same as we moved to avoid the flames that engulfed where we'd fallen. Even as we moved to evade the continuous assault from the two creatures, they bounded forward, coming from both directions, to rend us apart with claws and fangs. I waved my wand twice, two blades of light slashing at the chimera, which it evaded with a single, great leap.
I tried again but once again, it dodged around my attacks. It was almost on me, shrugging off the curses that Tiffany was hurling at it from behind me. I could see its jaws widen, fangs poised to sink into my flesh, rend me apart in a shower of blood. A snarl burst from my lips in frustration as I drew back my wand hand, preparing to give it one last curse before succumbing to its physical might. It leapt, so far, impossibly far, the heavy mass of its body bearing down on me. I was too slow, my spell not ready. Then the manticore struck, struck the chimera aside in its own haste to get at its target, one massive paw smashing into the other creature's side with the sound of breaking bones, all the force of its own charge behind the blow. It wouldn't be getting up again. Without hesitation, Tiffany acted, a bolt of energy stabbing into twisted parody of a human face, searing its eyes and blinding it.
The manticore reared, screaming its agony, the sound reverberated off the walls. There it was… My opening… The wand in my hand, blistering hot from the energy being built up within, slashed down, a powerful curse slicing into the manticore's face in a rain of blood. The heavy droplets splashed down on the pair of us, the stench overwhelming and making the grips of our wands slippery. As one, both of us drew back our wands, energy rippling along their lengths as we struck, two identical slashing motions that opened up the manticore's windpipe.
It screamed but had no voice to be heard…but it could still kill. Even as it slumped to the stone floor, its tail shot up, aimed and fired, a parting gesture as it died. I moved fast but it was faster still. Pain spiked and I fought to contain a cry as a foot long spine embedded itself deep in my left shoulder, spinning me around and hurling me off my feet.
My vision swam and I felt Tiffany ran to my side, shaking me as I fought the virulent poison that flooded my system like wildfire. My limbs felt heavy, each breath laboured and shallow. I was dying, my body rebelling against itself as each part fought for its own survival. The pain was enough to render me unconscious but for my will holding desperately on to staying awake. I thought briefly of Devin, the woman who meant so much to me, working hard with her Quidditch team, unaware that I was clinging to the vestiges of life in this subterranean passageway. I thought of Tiffany, whether she would be able to take on Kharn by herself.
I knew that she would do so or die in the attempt, never one to back down from her duty when she knew the weight of responsibility placed upon her. I thought of Kharn himself, possibly fleeing even as I wasted Tiffany's time here, another victory for him and, I supposed, loss for the Ministry. I liked to think we weren't expendable to them. I ceased to think. It took too much effort…
Vaguely, I found my head tilted back as my partner found the right bottle within her robes, trickling a powerful anti-venom down my throat. It was an experimental solution the Department of Mysteries had come up with but by this point if it didn't kill me, my situation could only improve. There was fire in my veins, every nerve burning with agony. I knew I was dead… Then the pain receded. My vision returned, breath coming in fast gasps but coming nevertheless. Tiffany looked down at me, concern etched on face. With a groan, I sat up, helped by her. My hand groped around and found my wand. Its grip was reassuring in my hand. I offered her a weak smirk and then struggled to my feet. If I wasn't dead, I could still complete this mission. Only in death did duty end, after all.
--
A door opened at the end of the darkness, the foreign sight of torches burning greeting us as we stumbled out of the place I thought was to be where I fell. The familiar sight of dark magic users was also present, waiting for us to emerge, black robed and wands drawn. They turned to face us, jets of light streaking down the illuminated hallway to where we stood. The hastily erected shields of magic mirrored the ripples on the surface of water as spells detonated against them, keeping Tiffany and myself safe for the moment, unharmed by the initial volley. It seemed that they had learnt nothing from Kharn, lest they would have overwhelmed us immediately with their opening spells. I showed them how they were lacking.
My first spell ripped through the feeble shields of the front three, a shower of magical darts stabbing into them and causing them to fall writhing, to the floor. Tiffany's spell wrapped around both shield and witch, a stream of light constricting to disable the occupant inside her own protective field. The woman collapsed, struggling, to the floor and my partner put her out with a stunning bolt to the head.
The fifth man, the last of the group waiting for us, raised his wand as I levelled a stunning spell in his direction, a spell of his own bursting against mine in mid-air, red flaring against blue in a shower of sparks that ricocheted my spell back at me, just blocked by a hastily erected shield. My eye narrowed, willing the hood that disguised the wizard's identity to be cast back, reveal the face it concealed. It was… "You…"
The face of the man I had hunted for the past year, the face of a man who had turned his talents and skills to destroy what we had rebuilt following the fall of the Dark Lord, the face of a traitor, a man who had turned his wand on those we both had called friends and ended their lives for not siding with him. Whatever fate intervened that had spared me now gave me this opportunity, an opportunity for vengeance, an opportunity for retribution.
"It's been a while…Alaric." A smirk formed on the lips of the one I had once looked up to as master. He was exactly like I remembered him; tall, imposing, head shaved bald and with eyes that had once burned with the zealous passion to bring dark wizards to justice, now turned to hatred of those he once served. The face I once knew as stern and resolute was twisted into an evil grimace. "Why…?" I didn't want to speak but the thought had lurked there for so long, now coming to the fore.
"Why? You ask why, Alaric?" His voice was heavy with loathing, the deep sound resounding in the passageway we stood in. "The Ministry is weak, weak still after the times of the Dark Lord. Too wrapped up in their own policies and bureaucracy to see what needs to be done to lead the country right. All our leaders too concerned with doing things that win votes than the right thing. They never learn, failed to see how close they resemble that blundering fool, Cornelius Fudge, and so they must be destroyed, crushed, ground into but a memory…and from those foundations, we can built a new nation, a powerful one unfettered by the bonds that the Ministry places on us. Never again will one such as the Dark Lord rise if we stamp down on his kind at their origins."
He turned away from us, looking off into the distance, as if seeing the future in the darkness beyond. "Even now, after all I have done, look who the Ministry sends after me; a single Auror and his apprentice, without any support. Is the Ministry so stretched that they cannot bring more forces to bear?"
I listened but I didn't listen. It was madness and treachery…but none of it mattered to me at that point. "I don't give a shit about your designs, Lysander…" I spat, through gritted teeth. The fist around my wand tightened, the knuckles white and hand shaking as I sought the control I usually possessed. It was hard. The memories, faces of those dead were burned in my mind, their smiles and laughter never to be seen again in this lifetime. "What of our friends? They held you in respect and you murdered them. Where did they fit in your grand scheme of things?"
Outwardly, people saw me as cold, unfeeling. This is false. I do feel, when those I care about are hurt, when I see suffering around me. But I can hide it, steel myself against such things overwhelming me so I can carry on unflinching in my duties. Rarely does my mask slip… It only does when even my own will cannot contain the emotions within. Like now, when there is nothing but the hatred to believe in and hold to my heart.
"Their mistake… They failed to see what I sought to create in the future, Alaric. They were blinded like you. Duty… Your duty should be to the people, when you swore an oath to do what had to be done to ensure the safety of your nation. Their mistake was to stand against me when I told them to either join me or walk away. For that…there was nothing else I could do." Through the haze in my mind, the buzzing in my ears, I thought I heard remorse creep into Kharn's voice, swiftly stifled.
"So much responsibility is placed on us aurors. We are told to go here, bring in these people, deal with these…always under strict rules and regulations that prevent us from fulfilling our full potential. When we break just one law to do what must be done, we are incarcerated, branded criminal like those we prosecute. We are the best, but we all make mistakes, Alaric… To be punished for doing our duty…is unforgivable."
My wand was hot, burning in symphony with my own emotions. "And what is your mistake, Lysander?" He turned back to face me, his expression free of remorse once again. He shrugged and a smirk creased his face. "My mistake? Talking too much…" Tiffany, slower than myself barely saw the bolt of energy streaking towards us like a bullet. I grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her close and wand flicking out the strongest shield charm I could muster.
An explosion of light rocked the barrier I had drawn up and I felt myself lifted off my feet, hurled backwards where I landed hard on the stone floor. Shaking my head to clear my vision of the after-image, I looked up just as the next spell blasted the ground next to me, fragments of stone slicing a series of cuts across my face. Tiffany lay nearby, unconscious but breathing. She would be fine as long as I kept the attention of Kharn on myself.
I struggled to my feet, roaring against the pain and whipping my wand around to deflect another curse that almost jarred the wand from my grip. I aimed a spell of my own, watched it deflected away. I tried again but to the same end. I heard laughter, laughter in my ears, all around me. This only served to infuriate me further. My wand flashed, again and again, launching destructive spells in a volley at my hated enemy, again and again parried. I was advancing, into a storm of energy, forcing myself closer as I dodged and deflected the incoming missiles aimed at me. My body ached, from the initial assault, from the aftermath of the poison… But I kept going, struggling on.
I was close, five metres, four… With a running leap, I hurled myself towards Kharn, a blade formed of magic blazing from the end of my wand as I brought it down in a two-handed grasp. His own blade swept out, catching mine in a furious conflagration of energy. I swept back, coming in with a stab to the midriff. He evaded, countered, whipping around my strike and aiming for my head. It swept over my head narrowly and I saw my opening. I stabbed for the heart. What magic he must've acquired to move so fast, impossibly fast… The magic blade sank into his stomach but failed to kill. With a roar of fury and pain, his free hand pressed against my face, an explosion howling in my ears as I felt myself become weightless again and soar backwards through the air to land with a dull crash, bones breaking on impact. My wand landed somewhere else, out of reach, out of mind…
"Impressive… You've improved…greatly since we parted ways, Alaric." From where I lay, I looked up to see Lysander standing over me, one hand clutching at this stomach, the front of his robes stained with blood, the other hand raising a wand to my face. "But it is over now…" He was no longer laughing. I wanted to close my eyes, not watch as death raced forward to seize me while I lay there helpless. "Goodbye, Alaric Ravenor…" I said nothing, could say nothing…
Then it happened. Tiffany Danaan, my apprentice, auror of infinite potential and one of my closest friends, awoke. She saw me down, saw the enemy standing over my downed form. Though she had no hope to match him in magical strength, her loyalty and courage would not allow her to do nothing, even if it permitted her to live. Her wand had rolled away but she retained her blade, a habit she said she did because she wanted to be just like me. I'd laughed it off at the time but at that moment, I couldn't have been more thankful…and remorseful.
Reaching inside her robes one last time; she produced the blade, six inches of goblin-forged steel. With a sigh of effort, she threw it; cast it with all the strength she could muster. Kharn whipped around, quick as a serpent. His spell stabbed towards Tiffany, stronger than any shield she would be able to raise had she tried. She gave a sigh of surprise before collapsing, the spell having burnt through her chest. Her name was on my lips in a voice that I couldn't vocalise. Her sacrifice had been far from in vain. Tiffany's throw, practiced again and again in an attempt to rival my own abilities, was true, surpassing anything I had ever done. The blade, a flash of quicksilver, struck Kharn's wand, bisected it in one graceful slice and continued on to carve a deep, bloody line down his outstretched arm.
I heard a clatter as he dropped the useless weapon and then receding footsteps as he stumbled away, back the way he had come from, leaving Tiffany and I where we lay. It was agony even to breath but I forced myself to crawl over to my partner. She was still there, clinging on as I reached her. "Alaric…? We got him, didn't we?"
"We got him, Tiff… Don't worry about him now. Stop speaking and lie still. You're going to be fine…" I lied through my teeth, trying my best to hide her fate from her. She was too smart for that. "Don't give me that, Alaric… I know I'm too far gone to be saved now. Just…don't forget about me, okay? I guess that's all I can think of…" She tried to laugh but such a thing was beyond her now. I had drawn myself into a kneeling position beside her now, one of her hands clutched between my own. I wanted to say something but I was lost for words. What could I tell her that would be of any use to her now? The words were all hers for now…
"I guess this is goodbye, Alaric. We've had good times…but I guess that's over now." She coughed, blood trickling from her mouth. I looked into her eyes, my impassive mask broken and replaced by an expression of grief. She was fading fast now and there was nothing I could do. Far off I knew Kharn would be making his escape but I couldn't care less at that moment. The least I could do for Tiffany Danaan was be with her until she died. She knew it too. She smiled, despite the agony she must have been in on death's doorstep. "Oh…and Alaric? Try to smile more. You're a lot more handsome when you do."
Cheerful even at the end… And then she was gone. The light fading from her eyes as they closed, her last breath leaving her with its deathly finality. I knelt by her, stayed by her side for several moments, burning her memory into my mind forever. I stared down at her body, noting how peaceful she looked in rest. I had been irritated when I was first assigned an apprentice and even more by her irrepressible cheerfulness. Over the two years I had known her, I grew to value her skills as a warrior, her sharp, inquisitive mind and even her friendship that had subtly permeated my grim mood and made me see things in a less pessimistic light. Now she was gone…
My wand lay nearby. I picked it up and started off on the trail of Lysander Kharn, limping but bearing each painful step with the thought that this would all soon be over. He was injured and wouldn't be going anywhere fast. At the end of the corridor was a door. Past it, another cavernous chamber awaited. At the end of the bloody trail, I found Lysander Kharn. He looked around, our eyes meeting. We knew that just as this was the end of the trail, this was the end of it all. He made no effort to speak. There was nothing to say. The blade of magical energy sprung from my wand tip and with a single swing, his head parted from his shoulders, body crumpling to the floor.
And that was it… It was over… I made my way back to where Tiffany lay, gathered her body in my arms and made my way to the surface, back to the Ministry. She was buried with full honours, of that I made certain. Her service is done, fulfilled to its maximum potential. As for myself, only in death does duty truly end…and I'm not dead yet.
--
1 year later…
The wind is cold, the chill air burning on my face. The feeling seems far off, separate from my person. The snow is heavy around me, flecks of it dotting my dark storm coat. I don't know how long I've stood there for, having lost track of time as I remember Tiffany Danaan, the name of the girl who had sacrificed herself for me, the name etched deep into my mind and the tombstone before me. It's been a while since I last visited Tiffany, my guard duties at Hogwarts having kept me occupied for the past few months of the school term. She was buried near her home, as per her request before she died. I'd made sure her final wishes were met.
Mistress Morgana Pendragon had seen to it that I should take some lighter duties in the aftermath of the battles beneath the Howling Helot bar and the following months of flushing out the remaining coven members. Guard duty…it doesn't suit me but I suppose it gives me the chance to see my sister, Sasha, more often, now a professor at the school. To think she has grown up to fulfil such a role of responsibility… It still amuses me…
She took the news of Tiffany's fate badly, having been a friend of hers during their school years, but she has her teaching role to occupy her, keep her focussed. I have…guard duty, a poor distraction if a distraction at all. Devin is at Hogwarts now too but it is hard for her to sympathise… I can't blame her for that though I wish she could help lift the burden of grief from me from time to time. "Not that you have to worry about such things, Tiff…" My voice comes out in a rush of cold air, low in a whisper only meant for my ex-partner, wherever she is now.
A crunch of snow reaches my ears but I don't turn. I'd already sensed her approach, felt the magic aura that surrounded her. "Morgana…I wasn't aware my presence was required back at Hogwarts at this time. It's Kara's shift currently…" My boss approaches, standing alongside me and gazing down at the tombstone. "You have new orders, Alaric…"
My brow furrows, a frown forming on my face. It is not that I do not relish returning to fieldwork but after the emphasis placed on me to take a break from it, I am curious as to what is so urgent that my order to 'relax' has been rescinded. Even before I hear the words, I know what my orders must pertain.
"Alaric…Kharn's alive." I tear my eyes from the grave, eyes turning to meet Morgana's. "Impossible… I cut off his head. He died…" I speak the words but believe the opposite, that somehow my former master escaped death when it was so blatant before my eyes. The master of the aurors shrugs her shoulders and hands me a scroll of parchment, bound in a leather wallet. "I don't know how he did it but as you can see in the reports, he is still out there, active and doing what he's always been doing; facilitating our destruction…
I glance down at the leather wallet in my hand, fist curling around the tough material. "You're to resume your previous assignment, Alaric, terminate Lysander Kharn and put an end to his work. You have level five access to equipment…and take Kara with you." With that, she leaves, her footsteps in the snow drifting off into nothingness, her departure covered by a hail of snow. I sigh… I wish it were over but it is not so… Kharn lives and so my pursuit must resume, starting over from scratch, this time without Tiffany's aptitude for digesting information and spotting patterns in the intel we gathered.
And to take Kara with me… Perhaps it would be beneficial for her to get back into the field. I know I can rely on her in dangerous situations but I only fear for her mental state. I doubt she ever fully recovered from the loss of Celise, doubt she ever will. Well…there is only one way to find out… I kneel by the grave one last time, knees soaked by the soft snow beneath, placing a hand on the grave, one finger tracing the engraved name on the tombstone. "Don't worry, Tiff… We'll get him. This isn't over yet." I close my eyes and vanish, carried away on the wings of magic. I have to make preparations, get ready to once again hunt down the illusive Lysander Kharn. This time, no hesitation, no mercy… I will kill him again, I will kill him as many times as it takes for him to finally be erased from this earth. On the memory of Tiffany Danaan and those friends dead at his hands, I swear it.