CHAPTER 3
..x..
Bjorn's barking and some loud bangs startled her awake from a restless sleep. With a groan, Everil sat up, seeing through her window it was still dark. Her puzzled stare went towards the door while her dog continued to bark and growl, seemingly sensing someone outside. Then more banging followed, weaker but insistent.
"What in the Maker's name…?" She climbed out of bed and adjusted her white robe, hurriedly crossing the chamber. She swung open the door. "What's the—!" A small body collapsed against her own, drawing a surprised gasp from her.
"Auntie…"
"Oren!" Horror filled her cry as her arms quickly wrapped around her nephew as he clung weakly to her clothes, his back torn open by a grizzly gash. She fell on her knees along with him, desperately trying to stop the bleeding with her bare hands. But it kept gushing out, dripping down as the child quivered and whined.
A flash of silver came, drawing her stunned eyes to a man with a sword. Bjorn lunged, trapping the attacker's arm between his powerful jaws. He bit down with crushing force as the man screamed in agony, dropping his weapon. Before the enemy could defend himself, he released his arm and pounced, knocking him onto his back. Then he clamped down on his neck, teeth sinking into flesh and nerves. And with a swift jerk, he viciously ripped out their throat, leaving him unable to scream as blood gushed onto the floor. Her canine stepped off the dying man, turning to her as crimson dripped from his mouth.
"Good boy…" Everil uttered to her dog, still in a dazed state.
Slowly, her gaze descended on the child now resting his head on her lap, her brain unable to tell if what it was seeing was real or a nightmare. Oren was hemorrhaging profusely onto her skirts, soaking the white linen a deep red. There was nothing she could do to save him.
"Auntie…?" he called groggily, barely able to breathe.
"Yes, pup..." She forced a tender smile, shaking fingers gently stroked his hair.
"I tried… to protect mother…" he coughed, blood beginning to stream down his lips. "But I'm not… like father…"
His words broke her heart, knowing the meaning behind them. Oriana...
"No… She's safe…" Everil whispered, gently stroking his cheek as tears formed in her eyes. "You were very brave, Oren... Your father will be very proud."
Anyone watching from the outside would probably deem her cruel for lying to him. For deceiving him. But Everil didn't care. She couldn't save him, but she would make sure he went to his death with pride and honor, as any warrior would.
"Ah… I'm… a hero." Voice fading, he turned up his stare, gazing past her with a small smile on his lips. "Mother…? I did... save you… Mother…"
Oren took a deep, quivering breath and released it for the last time. And like a candle, his life was extinguished, cut short by a man's blade. Everil let out a broken sob as a single tear escaped her. She swallowed, picking herself up while also gently lying down her nephew's corpse. Rising to her feet, it was as if her body moved on its own. Her hands quickly opened a trunk and tore off her bloodied clothes, her mind operating on instinct while also beginning to realize what was happening. We're under attack... Maker, we're under attack!
She slid into her family armor as quickly as she could, heart racing in her ears. Linen shirt first, chain hauberk next. Then the breastplate, pauldrons, gauntlets, and greaves—all made of fine steel.
Already, more footsteps could be heard running through the hall, passing her room and going straight towards her parents' quarters. Everil gritted her teeth and swiftly pulled on the last strap to secure her armor. She grabbed her sword and dagger and rushed out the door, the hound running after her. Once in the hall, her glare landed on the four men trying to force their way into her parents' chambers. They wore iron scale armor, swords, and axes. All stained with fresh blood. It was then that she caught sight of their shields, recognizing the great bear of the coat of arms painted over them.
Howe's men... The grip on her weapon tightened, fists shaking with rage. That bloody rat betrayed us!
"Open the damn door!" one of them yelled. "You can't hide forever, you old bag!"
"You've got your backs to me, thinking me dead." Everil emerged from the shadows behind them, voice dangerously low. "Foolish move…"
The men quickly spun around, weapons in hand.
She was standing between them and their only way out, the hound growling viciously by her side, ready to charge at her command.
"It's… It's Lady Everil!" one of them stammered, all color draining from his face. "She's alive!"
"Ah… so you still have the decency to address me by title, while you attack my castle and spill my family's blood." She took a step forward, the flickering light of the torches revealing her murderous glare as she spoke through clenched teeth. "You will pay for what you've done tenfold, you bastards!"
The men backed away but were cornered like rabbits in a cage, with nowhere to go but to face her. They hesitated, exchanging nervous glances after having heard stories of her prowess. But they outnumbered her now and even a skilled warrior like her had a weakness.
One of the soldiers dropped into a fighting stance, weapons at the ready. "Come on! She's just one woman!"
The others followed suit. "Kill her, quickly!"
"You will be the ones to die here!" she cried out and aimed her sword, unleashing her hound. "Bjorn!"
With a vicious snarl, the dog charged, quickly closing the distance with powerful strides. The solid mass of pure muscle tackled one of the soldiers just as Everil lunged forth, easily evading their attacks. She stabbed one's throat, the blade penetrating through it as his blood sprayed out. She twisted and pressed a dagger to another's neck, slicing it open, blood gushing from the wound as he gargled and died. Another reached out to her, but her dog bit his leg, pinning him down as she brought around her sword with a roaring cry, cutting his hand clean off. Screaming, he fell, rolling over onto his stomach as he cradled the bleeding stump.
She stood over him and regarded her hound, no mercy in her stare. "Kill him."
And he obeyed. Bjorn bit the man's neck, shaking him like a rag doll until it snapped and he stopped screaming.
Seeing all of them were now dead, she quickly approached her parents' room and knocked on the door. "Mother, Father… it's me. Are you in there?"
It slowly opened, revealing her mother, clad in her own armor, a longbow hanging over one shoulder. Eleanor looked her over in a panic, seeing the blood all over her. "Andraste's mercy! Are you all right?"
"Don't worry. It's not my blood." Everil calmly sheathed her blades. "Come, Mother. We must hurry before more of them get here."
"Who—" Eleanor gazed over the corpses, seeing the emblem on a shield. "Those are Howe's men! Why would they attack us?"
She scowled, putting the pieces together in her mind. "Howe has betrayed Father. He delayed his men on purpose and attacks while our forces are gone."
"That bastard! I knew something wasn't right! I will cut his lying throat myself!" Eleanor bit out before her anger was quickly replaced by fear. "Have you seen your Father? He never came to bed!"
"No, but we must find him and quickly." She made to walk down the hall. "Come on."
"Wait!" Her mother frowned worriedly, taking her hand to stop her. "What of Oren and Oriana?"
Everil stiffened, not daring to look her in the eye. She opened her mouth and closed it, unable to speak. Sensing her hesitation, her mother's head slowly turned towards her son's room, only to fall upon the blood splatters trailing out across the hall.
"No…" she breathed, anguish twisting her aging face.
"I couldn't save them..." Everil's hand closed into a fist. "Oren was the one who woke me up… but I was too late. Oriana… She is gone too."
"No! My little Oren!" Eleanor tried to run for her room, but her daughter grabbed her by the arm.
"We don't have time, Mother!" she snapped, ignoring her own pain in an effort to save those she could. "We can mourn them later! Right now we must find Father!"
Eleanor stifled a sob and slowly nodded, forcing down the tears before they both hurried to the end of the hallway. Sounds of battle reached their ears the moment they stepped out of the family wing and onto the open paths outside. As their feet hit the ground in haste, the scent of smoke and blood washed over them, permeating the passage as the glow of burning flames lit up the night sky above. Screams cut through the clashes of metal and the battle cries of men as those inside the castle continued to be slain.
More enemies rounded the corner to them, weapons raised as they charged with murderous intent. Crying out, Everil met them, deflecting a sword with her own before promptly cutting open the man's side. Then she brought an arm up to stop a swing as her foe tried to strike with an axe, her blade finding his gut and running him through. Her hound pounced, tackling the next enemy as her mother let arrows fly, downing two more men further down their path.
They continued on, dashing past the bodies of servants and guards until they reached the soldiers' quarters. Eventually, her mother could no longer stand the savagery of Howe's betrayal. "Wait!" she called, seizing her arm.
Everil stopped and impatiently spun about to face her. "Mother, we—!"
"Listen to me!" Eleanor demanded sharply, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "Howe seeks to kill all of us to take Highever. If you die, the entire Cousland bloodline ends here. I don't want you bent on seeking revenge right now. Your goal is to survive. Do you understand?"
"No! If I see Howe, I will take the opportunity and run him through!"
"Please, darling. Think clearly. We are outnumbered and Howe is not to be taken lightly," Eleanor pleaded above the sound of the screams, her loving gaze meeting hers. "Now, promise me. Promise me you will not fight him here! No matter what happens to me or your Father, you will run!"
Everil clenched her teeth, pausing for a moment before tearing her frustrated stare away from her. She was right. Howe was an experienced rogue, his years of battle granting him skills she lacked. He would easily overpower her and his men would do the rest. And if they fell, all would be lost. They had to live through tonight. "Fine… I promise, Mother."
"Good. We will use the secret passage in the kitchen larder to escape the castle. It's possible your Father is making a stand in the main hall. We will search for him there." Eleanor reached up and pulled a key from under her armor, plucking it off her neck. "Before that, we must stop by the vault and retrieve the Cousland family blade. I want you to take it and bring it with you." Her mother's expression darkened. "That blade cannot fall into Howe's hands. It should severe his traitorous head!"
"Agreed… Let's hurry." Everil took the key from her and whirled around as the two of them, plus the hound, resumed their quest through the castle's passageways. And as she held onto it in her hand, she went through what her mother's plan meant. The Cousland blade was passed down from teyrn to teyrn for generations. It was made of silverite, the toughest and most valuable of the metals found in Ferelden. Its edge was still as sharp as when it was forged, despite the years of disuse. Which made her realize her mother was already preparing her for the worst.
Everil's eyes narrowed at the thought as they ran. Curse you, Rendon Howe!
Several more castle staff lay motionless in their path as mother and daughter stormed to the family vault, only to encounter more enemies blocking their advance. They had killed the guards watching over her family's valuables when they arrived, their corpses torn apart by slashes or stab wounds as they bled onto the ground. Their four killers turned to the two women, quickly recognizing them. "It's the teyrna and the daughter! Kill them!"
Using her sword, Everil quickly struck at the first's weapon, deflecting the hit before bringing the fist with the vault key against his face. He grunted, stunned and with his nose broken before she drove her blade into his gut. She ducked when the other tried to stab at her head, bringing her leg down to knock him off his feet. Bjorn jumped on him, pinning him down with his massive weight before tearing his throat apart. More arrows hit the next two on the chest and shoulder, but the injuries weren't fatal as they continued to advance upon them. Everil ran up at them, vision focused upon their weak spots. And in two quick slashes, their necks were slit, their blood staining her armor as they crumbled to the ground.
In a hurry, she opened the heavy wooden door, the enemy being unable to enter without their key. Quick steps took her through their treasures—jewels, armor, artifacts, and weapons—all objects which no longer mattered. Behind her, Eleanor stood guard, an arrow ready while her daughter sought what they came for.
Everil swiftly reached the end of the room, where a silver blade sat upon an ornate pedestal. It glimmered under the flame of the torches at its sides, the steel hilt beautifully adorned with swirling patterns and encrusted with tiny sapphires. Her family's sword—Elethea. The same weapon once wielded by the woman whose namesake it carried. Teyrn Elethea Cousland, the first of her family to serve under Ferelden's first king after having attempted to rebel against him.
She discarded her sword without care and pulled the family blade from its perch, looking it over as if seeing it for the first time. The weight was a bit heavier when compared to what she was used to, and she could feel the bit of magic coursing through it. The same magic protecting it from all wear and rust.
"More coming!" Eleanor signaled in alarm.
Everil did an about-face and strode towards her. "Then they will be the first to taste our blade's wrath by my hand."
Soldiers invaded the room in minutes, attempting to corner them. The young rogue greeted them, dashing between them and her mother before locking blades with them. She struck with two hands on the hilt, knocking an axe out of one man's hand. Then brought her weapon swooshing back around, easily cutting across his chest. She thrust, stabbing her sword through the neck of the one next to him and roughly pulled it out, leaving a gushing wound. A mace tried to crush her head, but the girl easily avoided it, leaning back as it flew in front of her face. Before he could recover, she brought the sword in a swift, diagonal strike, slashing over his ribs, the exceptionally sharp edge easily splitting his armor open.
"Well done, darling!" Eleanor complemented as the last man fell.
"Let's go," Everil told her before leading them out of the vault in haste, leaving all of their riches without looking back.
By the time they burst through the doors to the main hall, the bodies of several men were sprawled over the floor, dead beside more of the downed enemies. There had been a battle here already, but it wasn't over. Ser Gilmore jogged over to them, followed by the two Grey Wardens. "Your Ladyship, my lady! Thank the Maker you're both alive!"
"Howe's men surround the castle," Duncan told them, calm despite the chaos as loud banging echoed inside the hall. "We have managed to push them back, but they're trying to break through the gates. If they succeed, it will all be over. We must move quickly."
Everil glared at the doors, lips pressed into a thin line. What little remained of their soldiers were holding shut the gates, locked in a losing battle to keep the enemy from breaking through once more. She looked towards Ser Gilmore. "We cannot leave without my father. Have any of you seen him?"
He nodded in the direction of the service wing. "He went toward the kitchen, badly wounded and very weak. I tried to stop him, but he was determined to find you."
Gilmore's words made her anxiously bite her lip, worried for her father. Things were deteriorating quickly and there was nothing she could do to stop it. "Wardens," she called to them, voice firm in spite of the desperation around her. "We know where my father is and the way out, but we will need your help to reach him."
"Of course. We'll follow you," Alistair replied without hesitation.
"Thank you." Everil gave him a dip of her head and gestured toward the door to her left. "Our escape is that way. I will lead you there." Then she took a few steps as the others followed. All except the red-headed knight.
"Come on!" she yelled at him.
Gilmore glanced over to the gates as the banging became louder, seeing the soldiers keeping it shut were beginning to lose their hold. It wouldn't be long before they would break through to slaughter them all. And he needed to make sure the family could flee before that happened. He turned to Everil, sullen expression upon his face. "I will not be going with you."
"What?" She promptly approached him.
"I need to stay here and buy you time," he replied quietly before shifting his stare to the two Wardens. "Grey Wardens, please help them escape. I'm sorry that I can't come with you, but I am still sworn to protect the Couslands at all costs."
Duncan nodded somberly. "We understand."
"Gilmore..." Everil pleaded.
His expression softened as a small smile spread upon his lips. "Please… You know this is how it should be. Now go."
"But…" She vehemently shook her head, hands closed tightly. "But I can't just—!"
"Everil…" He reached for her hand, loosening her fist as he held it, eyes meeting hers. "There's no need for you to mourn me. Duty or not, I die willingly for you and I have no regrets."
She visibly swallowed and exhaled shakily. She grabbed him by his armor, pulling him down to her to press her lips to his. His shoulders slumped as he returned the kiss. Soft and bittersweet.
"Thank you…" she murmured, holding back tears. "For everything…"
"It has been an honor…" He gently caressed her cheek before reluctantly pulling away. "Now go. Quickly."
Eleanor gave him a saddened look. "Thank you, Ser Gilmore. May the Maker watch over you."
"May the Maker… watch over us all!" He cried out and ran for the gates, joining the others.
With a heavy heart, Everil reluctantly tore her gaze away from her childhood friend and her faithful soldiers. They were willingly sacrificing themselves for her, giving their lives away out of honor and loyalty because of a man who held neither. Her feet moved once more, taking her to the door before the group left the main hall, where everyone inside would soon meet their end.
Alistair followed the two women as they hurriedly led them through the halls, a mabari hound he assumed was theirs running ahead of them. Duncan held the rear, following close behind them. Watching for enemies who may have followed or attempted to surprise them.
He couldn't imagine what the family was going through. Their home and their lives suddenly ripped apart. With nothing they could do but to run for their lives while watching the people they loved or trusted die around them. And as for him, he thought they would end up going down along with them. Mere moments ago, he and his mentor had been asleep, resting from their journey. Then suddenly enemy soldiers were breaking into their room, trying to kill them while slaughtering everyone else in sight. Of course, they dispatched them quickly, but they had fought along with the guards ever since.
"This way!" Everil turned a corner, forced to lead them the long way towards the kitchen as most routes were blocked by burning fires. Enemies awaited them as they entered the next passageway, promptly clashing with them. Bearfang pounced on the first and she blocked a sword from the next as the man brought it down with a roar. She parried it off to the side before using her blade's pommel to hit him on the side of the head. The teyrna stood back, releasing arrows onto them.
Hearing the fighting, more enemies erupted from one of the rooms behind Duncan, charging towards them. Both Wardens took them on. The senior easily leaned and dodged the first sword just as his dagger shot forth, slashing over the man's neck. He ducked from a mace and lunged, thrusting his blade into his gut.
Meanwhile, Alistair was fighting two more, blocking an axe with his shield before pushing it off him and running the man through. He took one decisive step to the next as the soldier ran at him with a cry. He deflected the hit, striking at the sword with his blade before bringing it back around to slash at his chest. The man stumbled back with a hand to the wound, but the Warden's weapon found his belly, piercing through it. Another came up from behind him, trying to attack him as Alistair spun around to engage him. Yet the man never reached him, instead letting out a painful grunt and falling face down to the ground, a dagger sticking out from his back.
The young Warden's eyes went up, seeing Everil lowering her arm, the enemies blocking their way now dead around her. Behind him, Duncan continued to easily clear the enemies coming from the rear, his technique with the two blades much more polished than that of the lady ahead. He slithered around each attack, slashing through weak spots between the armor plating and eliminating them with swift precision.
After defeating their foes, they made it through to the service wing. Covered in gore and tired while stepping over the mangled corpses of the staff. The entire area was a nightmare, with elves and human innocents lying in the halls. Some younger women had their clothes torn, chests laid bare after having been raped and killed without mercy. Deeply disturbed, Everil stepped over them, swallowing the vile threatening to rise in rage and disgust.
When they entered the kitchen, she immediately spotted Nan's body on the floor. Lying in a pool of blood, along with other servants. Sorrow gripping, her chest, she painfully looked away from the woman who practically raised her. Her feet picked up the pace, walking past her corpse and heading towards the door to the larder as her mother got there first.
Eleanor barged in, searching around the dark room.
"There… you two are," came the weak voice of the teyrn. He was on the ground, leaning back against a stack of wooden crates and holding on to a bleeding injury.
"Bryce!" His wife ran to him, falling on her knees beside him. "What happened? You're bleeding!"
"Howe… He… tried to do me in the study," he replied between gasps for breath. "I was trying to find you… I am relieved... That you're unharmed."
Duncan turned to Alistair and motioned with his head to the kitchen door. At which he nodded and moved towards it to keep an eye out for any incoming threats.
Approaching her parents, Everil regarded her father with concerned eyes, seeing the poor shape he was in. She gritted her teeth, hands closed tightly around her weapons. "Howe will pay for this..."
Bryce weakly gazed up at her, blood trickling down the side of his lips. "Yes, pup… You must go… Tell Fergus and the king what happened."
With a furrowed brow, she knelt before him. "But you can tell them yourself, Father."
"I… I'm afraid I will not survive the standing…" her father said as an agonizing shiver shook his body, more blood spilling from his wound. "I'm… I'm dying… You must—"
"Bryce, no! We can get you out of here! Find you healing magic!" Eleanor protested with urgency, pressing her hands to his in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.
"I'm sorry, love…" he lamented mournfully. "I am… too weak to move. I will only be a burden to you."
"No..." Everil whispered hoarsely. "You can do it. I can help support you and the Wardens can help us escape."
He shook his head and cast a desperate stare upon the Grey Warden. "Duncan, the secret passage out of the castle is behind that wall…" He weakly pointed a bloody finger to a spot at his right. "Push on the discolored stone… It will release the mechanism. I beg of you… take my wife and daughter to safety. You are their only hope."
"Of course, your Lordship. But I'm afraid I must ask for something in return." Duncan solemnly took a knee next to his daughter. "What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one."
Pausing for a moment, the teyrn swallowed uncomfortably and looked to the ground. "I... understand."
"Wait…" Everil's worried eyes went from her father to Duncan. "Are you talking about me?"
"Yes. You fought your way to us through Howe's men. I believe the Maker's intention is clear," he replied firmly before casting a steely gaze upon the teyrn. "Should you agree, I will take the teyrna and your daughter with me to Ostagar. There they can tell the king what happened. After that, your daughter joins the Grey Wardens to take arms against the Blight."
Alistair glanced over his shoulder, knitting his eyebrows at what his commander was being forced to do. The teyrn was at death's doorstep, and yet here they were, practically demanding to take his daughter away to a war which might very well get her killed.
Bryce and Eleanor exchanged a look, at which she hesitantly nodded.
The teyrn gulped. "You... have my leave."
"But I want Howe dead!" Everil's exasperation strained her voice. "I won't be able to bring revenge upon him by fighting monsters!"
"Defeating the Blight is our primary concern. Your revenge must come later," Duncan responded, unconcerned by the dismayed glare she sent him.
"Darling..." her mother called gently, drawing her attention. "The Couslands always do our duty first. You will help save Ferelden, defeat the Blight as a hero would, and then avenge our family. I know you can do it."
She felt tears well up as she looked at her, her frustration boiling. Her mother was usually against her desire for battle and her need for adventure. Yet here she was, pushing her into danger in order to save her life.
The teyrna smiled tenderly, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "Now, go with the Wardens. You have a better chance to escape without me."
"What...?" Everil was stunned by her words.
"But love…" Bryce protested weakly.
"Hush, Bryce…" She cut in softly, smiling woefully at him. "I will kill every bastard who comes through that door to buy them time but I won't abandon you."
"No…" Everil's anguished stare shifted between the two. "No! I can't let you sacrifice yourself for me!"
"I couldn't go on living without your father…" Eleanor reached out to gently stroke her cheek. "And if my life can help save yours... then so be it."
"Mother…" Her quivering hand went up to rest on her steady one as she stifled a sob. She closed her eyes tightly, relishing her touch as tears rolled down her face. This would be the last time she would ever see her or hear her voice. The last time she would ever get to speak with either one of them.
"Go, pup…" Her father shakily took her other hand. "Survive… and make your mark on the world."
"Yes, Father…" Everil whispered brokenly, more tears escaping her as she held onto them. "I love you both..."
Suddenly a loud bang was heard, followed by the cries of soldiers echoing throughout the castle.
"They broke through!" Alistair alerted, turning to the group. "We should hurry!"
"Come!" Duncan grabbed his new recruit by the arm, pulling her up and separating her from her parents.
Everil let him, burdened by the task they bestowed upon her as she followed the Warden-Commander to the secret passage. He released the mechanism and pushed onto the wall, opening it and allowing Alistair to run out first to scout ahead. But she didn't move, instead, staring at her parents as they held each other in one final embrace.
"Goodbye, darling..." Eleanor told her over the sound of the incoming soldiers, her weak smile reaching her. "We love you very much."
"Mother…" she whispered miserably in return, torn apart by what was wrong or right.
Leave and survive.
Or stay and die with them so Howe could claim his prize.
Everil bit her lip in agony and willed herself to move, letting her running feet take her to the Grey Warden waiting for her at the door. Her hound followed and then Duncan as they disappeared through the wall. The door closed behind them, blending into the wall once more.
.x.x.x.x.
They fled through the back of the castle, hidden by the darkness of the night while hearing the dying screams of her soldiers as they were slaughtered. Everil tried to block the terrible sound. To not let it haunt her as it did. And just followed the two Grey Wardens, everything around her just a blur.
It was as if they'd been running for hours, but they kept going, fighting through the exhaustion for as long as they could. They went through bushes and around trees, crossing the thicket surrounding the castle grounds. Then they were making their way up a steep slope, climbing higher and over the woods, until they reached flat ground at the top. They stopped, pulses racing and panting for breath, even the hound's tongue hanging heavily from the side of his mouth.
Hands on her knees, Everil licked her lips, breathing heavily as sweat slid down her brow. Slowly, she straightened, aching heart pounding in her chest as she forced herself to turn around. She took a step to the ledge, her widened stare looking back at what she was made to leave behind.
The two Grey Wardens who saved her life walked closer, standing behind her as the cold breeze blew against her blood-stained hair. Her hound sat next to her, whining upon sensing his mistress's pain. From their position above the trees, they could see the faint light of torches around her home, all carried by Howe's soldiers. Deep black smoke rose from within the castle walls, blocking the stars as fires spread and engulfed every room.
They were tearing apart her life. Her home.
Her jaw clenched painfully and her fists shook. All she ever knew and loved was gone, ripped away by a man whose avarice and pride surpassed all honor. Because of him, she wouldn't get to hear her nephew's laughter again. Or feel her mother's hugs. Or hear her father's encouraging words.
They were gone.
Gone forever.
Silence followed as her shoulders shook. Hanging over them like a shroud. The only sound those of her heavy, broken breaths.
"Listen…" Alistair stepped closer to her, sympathy in his eyes. "I'm—"
"Don't!" Everil forcefully cut him off while roughly wiping away her tears. Then she turned to them, pain giving way to unwavering tenacity. "I have no right to mourn their deaths. Not until Howe lies dead at my feet!"
Her words were a promise. An oath only she could keep.
"Now, let's move. There is a Blight to stop," she commanded, holding her head up high before walking past them.
The two men silently watched her as she stalked towards the woods ahead, followed closely by her faithful hound. Going south.