The night was deathly silent, the ebony sky as dark as the shadows that flickered around the edges of the alleyway, not even a single star studded the pitch-black sky. The spirit of Festivals, heavily drunk, tottered down the alleyway, hiccuping and mumbling cheerfully to himself.

Unaware he was being watched.

There was slim figure clothed in a black cloak with a hood that cast shadows over their face, with only their mouth was shown. The figure was standing, motionless, in the side of the alleyway, their eyes focused on the Spirit of Festivals with a cruel look of a predator that was about to kill, fastened on their pale face. The moon shone slightly through the thin clouds, making eerie shapes that shimmered and flickered around the corner if your eyes, and the slight icy wind made the Spirit of Festivals shiver.

The Spirit of Festivals stopped, burped, before looking up at the night sky with a almost childish expression on his face, his bloodshot eyes wide and his mind vulnerable.

That's when the figure struck.

As fast as a bullet, the figure lashed out a hand that grabbed the Spirit of Festivals by the throat and slammed him against the wall, making him splutter and wheeze. It happened to silently and quickly, even the Spirit of Festivals didn't understand what was happening until he saw the glint of a silver knife be drawn from under the figures cloak, and he started thrashing, weakly, until the figure sliced his arm, remorselessly drawing scarlet blood. Then the Spirit of the Festivals froze. Even in his slow mind, he got the clear message the figure was giving him:

I am not afraid to kill you.

The Spirit of Festivals let out a childish whimper as he felt the cold edge of the knife start to dig into his throat, and the figure sneered slightly, leaning in. "Name." They stated, and the Spirit of Festivals somehow managed to choke out "Par."

The figure nodded, their face still cold and expressionless. "Listen then, Par" The figure said, mockery delicately lacing their words, "you will listen to me and answer my questions-" "-and if I don't?!" Par squeaked out, trying to appear fearless, but shrank back when he saw the figures face flicker to fury, before composing back into expressionless mask. But he could still hear the danger in his attackers next words. "Then I will make this-" The figure slashed down his thigh skilfully, the silver knife tearing through his flesh and making sickly blood gush from his wound, and agony shook through his leg, making his eyes widen in pain. "-Seem like a splinter. Understand?"

Par stared at his attacker in terror as he actually saw a sadistic smile flick around the edges of their lips, and realised with a mix of disgust and fear that his attacker was actually enjoying his torture.

"Understand?" The figure repeated, ice in their mocking voice as they delicately ran the tip of the knife across Par's lips, and Pat nodded pathetically.

"Good." His attacker hissed softly, and Par realised that his attackers voice was female, and his curiosity heightened as he wondered what female would be cruel and evil enough to do this to him?

"Let's begin. Do you know the Guardians?" She asked. "Why?" Par asked, and was answered by his attacker by tightening her grip around his throat, making his cough. "I will ask the questions. Not. You." She hissed, and Par managed to nod weakly, before she loosened her death grip enough to let him breathe. "Now, let's try again. Do you know the Guardians?" She asked, and Par said "yes," Fear evident in his voice.

"Good. Do you have any recent information about him?" She asked, and Par thought carefully, knowing his punishment would be terrible if he told her false information, and something told him that she would be able to tell immediately if he lied to her. "Er...yes. I know that the Guardians protect the children of the worl-" "No!" She snarled, and Par felt his heart quicken as he realised that her patience was running out. "B-but that's all I know! I-"

He froze as he saw her shrug elegantly, then raise her dagger tauntingly, and he blurted out in a vain attempt "but I'm sure that the Groundhog knows about them! They are a very top-secret group but the Groundhog knows everything!"

The figure halted as she pondered this, her mind running over what he said. "Are you sure?" She asked. Par felt guilt and shame seep through his clouded mind as he realised that he put the Groundhog in terrible danger because of him. "N-no! That's not what I meant! I-"

"I'm getting tired of your irritable babbling," His attacker cut him off smoothly, and in one sweeping elegant movement, sliced through his throat remorselessly. Par felt the cold silver of her blade slit his throat, and he vaguely remembered warm blood seeping out of his wound and mouth, before he crashed to the ground and his vision started to fade as his life blood poured out of him.

But what he did remember was his attackers eyes. They were a clear shade of deep purple, and speckled with gold. But what scared him most was the sadistic gleam of evil in her eyes, as she grinned at him as he laid at her feet, dying.