Sorry this chapter is a little late, hope you enjoy!

She had no idea how long she had been walking- her mind filled with images of Aragon and Legolas entangled in their love behind her back. But when she had no more tears to shed and her eyes cleared, Arwen looked about her to discover she was somewhere she did not recognise. She was surrounded by trees and nature but they felt different to the ones she knew- colder, quieter; as if they had something to hide. She sensed they held a form of magic but it was one she neither knew nor trusted. She stepped carefully around the old, knotted roots at her feet as she looked around her for at least a glimmer of something she recognised. But the further she walked, the less certain she became that this place was even real at all, rather than a strange dream formed from a long lost memory. The feeling made her mind clouded and her limbs numb. The exhaustion from her heavy heart finally caught up with her as her knees fell away from underneath her. The last thing she remembered was the sound of her body hitting the ground with a gentle thud before her eyes slid shut and she gave in to the pull of unconsciousness.

Arwen's dreams were filled with an unnatural darkness, born of her grieving heart. At first, her mind saw blood from her own body spilling out from beneath her split skin. Her thoughts taunted her with her lack of purpose. She had sacrificed her immortality for Aragon and he had thrown it away like it had meant nothing. So, why should she not do the same and abandon the world of the living, leaving all heartbreak that it held behind her? She longed so deeply for the peace that death would grant her. But then, her mind twisted to a different kind of peace as her heart filled with resentment and anger. Why should she have to feel so much pain while he felt nothing? He deserved to suffer the same way she had done. Haunting images of Aragon's pain seeped into her dreams, filling her with purpose once more. Once she lived for his love; now she would live for his suffering. He would burn and break before her eyes and by her hand.

Arwen awoke sharply with a pounding heart and quickening breaths. Her vision blurred slightly as her mind returned to reality. Her heart still ached with Aragon's betrayal, but the pain was weakened from before. Instead she felt a slow, smouldering anger burning inside her. A small part of her knew that she shouldn't act upon it; it would only bring about more pain for herself and those she knew she still cared for. But something about the darkness of the forest had latched itself onto her soul and was refusing to let go. It was that same pull of darkness that dragged her to her feet and sent her walking further into the heart of the forest. She didn't exactly know what she was walking towards; all she knew was that she would know what she was looking for once she found it. And, true to her instincts, when she reached a clearing with a small thatched building in the centre, she knew she had reached her destination. It looked like it used to be someone's home; but that person had long since moved on from this world. The house was old and abandoned as flowers and vines had taken refuge in the brickwork. She approached the door and cautiously knocked on the knotted wood. When no answer came- not that she had really been expecting one- she gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

For a moment she was blinded by the contrasting darkness of the room. But, once her eyes adjusted, Arwen saw a room filled with almost nothing but books. Some of them she recognised as elvish, others she could not understand- but they all seemed to be somehow linked to magic. Slowly, Arwen walked further inside and brushed her fingertips along the books within her reach, sending plumes of dust into the air around her. When she reached the other side of the room, she stopped and looked down at the book on the table in front of her. It had no cover or title- just a black, leather-bound journal. Curiosity won her over and she reached down and picked it up. As soon as she opened it, her breath caught in her throat. This book contained spells; but not just any spells, this magic was older and darker than anything she had ever seen before. Many were written in tongues she did not speak, but some she knew or could at least translate into something she knew. She began pacing the length of the room as she thumbed through the pages, transfixed by every word she read. She had no idea how long she had been lost in those pages but eventually she stumbled across a spell that caught her eye. It was a spell to summon the dead. For a moment, Arwen simply stared at the words in front of her. Then a whisper of a laugh passed through her lips. She had noticed the spell contained a fundamental and fairly dangerous flaw- the was no way to determine the loyalty of those how were brought back to the world of the living. Souls that were more willing to be pulled back were often those with unfinished business. So, when someone brought them back, who was to say they wouldn't just turn on those whose rose them and then cause unending chaos however they pleased? Shaking her head, Arwen went to put the book down again. But just before it fell from her grasp, a sudden thought crossed her mind. She was a powerful being, well versed in elvish magic. If she found a way to combine this spell with another she knew- a binding spell- she would be able to control the souls she raised. Her grip tightened once again on the spell book and her eyes flashed with determination. It was dangerous but Arwen didn't care; she had nothing left to lose.


Light meant everything in the world of the Elves. It built the very foundation of their existence; their life, their magic, their songs, their worship. It all came from the light that fought away the darkness. Yet Arwen, an elf born of the purest light, found herself drawn to this deep, endless maze of darkness. She felt it pull her out of the glowing light and into the cold blackness of the trees. She walked deeper into the forest until she found what she had been looking for- somewhere she could perform the spells. Eventually, she came across a gathering of trees and stopped walking. She felt an energy she did not know but she knew that this was the place she needed to be. She stood still and closed her eyes, gathering her strength. Her breath slowed as time itself seemed to stop. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked down to the open spell book in her hands. The words of the foreign spell fell naturally from her lips, almost as if she had been born to speak them. She felt the power flow through her body, intoxicating her senses. The shadows cast by the surrounding trees grew darker and began to rise around her. Slowly, the shadows grew until the final words of the spell were spoken and five hooded figures of darkness stood before her. In place of faces, the figures had nothing more than a deep swirling mess of black smoke beneath their hoods. For a moment, everything was still and silent. Then, one of the figures reached out a bare, skinless hand and lunged towards her. But before the hand could touch her, Arwen felt the power course through her once more. All five figures were forced downwards until they were all kneeling before her.

"With this spell, I bind you to me. You are mine and you will obey me. When your purpose is complete, I will release you to your final resting place," Arwen spoke intensely, looking across the shadowed figures below her.

"Yes, my lady," the figures spoke in unison, their voices echoing around the forest.

"Good," Arwen smirked to herself "then we must begin, there is much to do,"