WINGED ELVES

She cut down all whom stood in her way; drow or otherwise.

A medusa that, through a potion we'd gained immunity of, had asked of us the answer to one of her riddles. In exchange she'd promised us her shards of the mirror in which we, and the drow Sabal, were searching for to gain the co-operation of the Mind Flayers. Vikki had snickered, reaching her long slender fingers into the medusa's abdomen with a sickening squelch, her claws having effortlessly pierced through its thick flesh.

"Is the answer blood? Otherwise, I'm all out of ideas," Vikki had questioned earnestly.

She'd let the corpse drop lifelessly to the floor, searching her body for the shards and then leaving the dead medusa in her burning library.

One of the winged elves, a cleric to the evil god of disease, had cursed her; condemning her to death whilst naming numerous diseases. Unaffected, Vikki had simply laughed, slashing his exposed throat all too easily with a swipe of her claws. She'd bent over his still warm corpse, retrieving the shards that we were searching for.

Then, she'd lent forward, whispering in his ear.

"Dragon immunity," she had hissed.

One after the other she disposed of; the confused merchant, the retired arch mage, his incredibly young and equally mad apprentice. She killed them all to suit her own ends, and she did so unblinkingly.

That was until we'd approached the castle, The Fool taking control and leading the show. Vikki had no power over him; he'd been the one to pull the strings. He'd used Sabal and Vikki to his own ends, pitting them against each other in a fight to the death for all the shards.

Sabal's cruelty had rivalled even Vikki's, but her skill had not. Before long she too was dead by Vikki's hand and claw.

Now, The Fool transported us to the cave in which the past queen of the winged elves resided, her sour scorn her only company.

All of this changed when the shards were placed back within their frame, magically reforged into the beautiful mirror that it had once been.

Without a single word of thanks from the winged elves, the town disappeared about us. Despite this show of magic, my eyes were on Vikki the whole time. She stared into the magical mirror, her eyes cold and harsh. There was something else to them though, something that even a fool could identify; fear.

Her reflection, upon first inspection, appeared much the same. However, when one really looked at it, true to its name, it mirrored her very image. Her skin was no longer deathly white, but a balmy pink, and her hair, no longer wild and colourless, was a smooth brown. Most prominent of all, however, were her eyes. They held the most pure and intense warmth, something that seemed foreign upon her features.

"No," Vikki whispered suddenly.

Cold mist escaped from her white parted lips.

Her reflection smiled warmly; full lips bright red and perfectly rounded teeth.

Vikki reached out a hesitant hand towards the mirror, her claws retracted. Her slender fingers gently touched the surface, tenderly caressing the mirrored image. Within moments, however, ice cascaded over the mirror, hiding her other side from our world.

The ice hid the alternate Vikki, the one that wasn't tainted. The kind, warm woman that would be were it not for the cold draconic blood that flowed through her veins.

Upon this realisation, I felt a pit of despair form within my stomach. There really wasn't any hope for me, her blood and heritage made her into the woman she was today. I was no exception.

I would never truly escape my demonic blood, and I couldn't fight it forever. It was a curse that would be with me until the day I died. Our blood shaped who we were, who we are, and who we will soon become; Vikki was a testament of this.

Worst of all, the only person that would ever truly understand me was the cold woman that I hated almost as much as my curse.