Ascent
(4:00 AM)
As he waited with the larger bulk of the knights and city officers on the other side of the clearing, Sir Rennemar kept an eye shut as he peered through a metal spyglass with the other. When the elf collapsed, he assumed at first that the Prelate's men had downed him with their crossbows. Instead, the Prelate began rushing back toward Rennemar, shouting something at the others as he ran. Shifting his view back to the Prelate's other Royal Horsemen, he saw his compatriots raise their weapons to eye level and release their bolts at the elf.
When they started shooting, however, a luminescent red cloud flashed into sight around the fallen elf, and Rennemar thought he saw at least some of the bolts deflect as they struck the cloud. Wait…
He lowered the spyglass, and was stunned to see a colossal beast made of some sort of translucent red gas. It stood on four legs, making it about half the height of the black tower, but still gigantic compared to the six knights standing before it. The head resembled that of a lion, but with a wider jaw and two bright crimson embers burning as eyes.
For a moment, all the knights in front of it were as surprised as Rennemar himself. The beast let out a roar that seemed to shake the ground, and then struck out with its claw, leaving a trail of red smoke as it moved. Four of the knights were knocked aside like twigs, shattering their bodies into a bloody, metallic heap across the clearing.
The other two knights managed to recover from their shock to draw their swords, for all the good that would do against such a huge monster. Rennemar had to look away as the beast's jaws came down over them.
"Form a perimeter and hold the Behemoth!" Prelate Saudere screamed as he charged past the ranks of knights and city guards. "Let me through, move! Mages and clerics, cast your protective spells immediately!"
"What?" asked Sir Rennemar, "Sir, fighting magic with more magic is not a prudent–"
"Carry out your orders! That beast will destroy the city if we don't stop it here." The Prelate's jaw looked rigid as he spoke. "The sealed chest I brought, I must have it now. Our last hope of destroying the Behemoth lies within. Gods grant me strength to see this through."
(4:07)
Dace moved easily among the scattered ranks of knights, guards, and assorted adventurers. Half of the motley army seemed to have lost their will at the sight of the approaching monster and were trying to flee toward the safer parts of the city. The other half was hurrying forward like good little toadies to meet the creature with steel, for all the good that would do.
His attention was focused on the elderly man in religious vestments, the one shouting orders at whoever would listen. For some reason, this faithmonger was rushing away from the front lines, even though he was the apparent leader. Not the strongest sign of solidarity.
On the other hand, Dace doubted that any priest of Tyr would be the sort to favour self-preservation over the greater good. They were far too stupid for that type of thinking. Moving like an eel, Dace quickened his step, darting to either side every so often to avoid colliding with someone moving to the fore of the battle. Pushing through, the mercenary spotted the elder priest standing in front of a large stone chest; a sarcophagus flanked by a pair of knights carrying torches and crossbows.
Dace slowed down as he moved, and turned away slightly. He half-heartedly made some gestures with his hand, pretending to be directing the traffic of soldiers and knights moving around. Casually sliding closer toward the elder priest, Dace could hear what was being said.
"High Prelate, we can feel the evil presence coming from the chest. Opening it would be ill–"
"Mind your place," snapped the priest, "the gods will forgive me if I make penance, but only if we survive long enough to do so. A greater sin would be to allow the Behemoth to run rampant." He gestured at the stone slab atop the chest. "Remove the lid."
The knights hesitated for an instant, but did as commanded. Passing the torch to the Prelate and setting their crossbows down, each knight grasped one end of the lid and carefully shifted it aside. Dace could have sworn he felt the air grow colder.
The High Prelate reached into the sarcophagus with both hands and lifted out an opaque grey bottle that was fixed with a large black cork on top. A breeze started to pick up as the Prelate carefully turned and pointed the bottle in the direction of the magical beast that was still tearing havoc by the tower. Before the old man could pull the cork, however, the wind abruptly multiplied in strength, turning into a maelstrom. The sudden shift caused Dace to lose his balance and force him down on one knee. Many of the knights were toppled over completely by the harsh winds and fell under the weight of their armour.
Dace looked up in time to see the sealed bottle blown from the Prelate's hands, and watched it soar through the air before a hand snatched it in mid-flight.
Cyrael hovered above the ground, wings flapping to keep him aloft amid the intense winds he was conjuring. He stared intently at the bottle, as if he could see through the opaque glass. "Far too volatile a power to be held in mortal hands. Indeed, this creature might even be enough to drain the Behemoth's essence," he said to the Prelate. His voice seemed to vibrate as it was carried on the wind. Pointing to the bottle, he added, "Unsettling that the Church of Tyr would stoop to using a creature of the Abyss as a weapon, though not surprising."
Saudere glared at Cyrael. "The Behemoth's assault won't last forever. It will deplete its power eventually and retreat back into the Bloodletter's body. To the hells with trying to contain it, this time I'll kill the elf when it does. And you'll be next, devil!"
The winds began to dies down as the celestial reached into his breast pocket and removed the Wild Source, which now appeared to glow with a steady red light, even though there were no apparent wild surges accompanying it now. "No, this time the Behemoth draws its energy from another source of magic. I've linked it to this cube. This is the new crusade, man of faith, and the Behemoth is now our sword. Your people truly created the perfect weapon; unyielding, unstoppable, and soon to be undying. Congratulate yourself for leaving such a enduring legacy." His wings began to flap more rapidly, elevating the celestial further up into the air.
"Not this time," Dace growled as he staggered to his feet. He moved to the Prelate's guards and lifted one of their crossbows from the ground. He took a moment to steady his aim on the winged freak's neck. Immortal or not, Cyrael would have trouble flying with a wooden shaft lodged in his spine.
He let the bolt shear the air, but the missile veered down to the left slightly, most likely due to the wind, and instead pierced the celestial's hand. Cyrael let out a surprised shout as the Wild Source was knocked form his grip and went flying across the clearing, falling somewhere between him and the tower.
"The bottle!" screamed the Prelate from the ground, "Aim for the bottle and break it!"
Dace threw the weapon to the ground and snatched up the second knight's crossbow, which still had a bolt loaded and wound. Cyrael snapped off part of the bolt in his hand and looked like he was about to yell something at Dace. But when he saw the mercenary lifting the next crossbow, Cyrael abruptly twisted himself in mid-air and spread his wings, blocking Dace's shot at the bottle.
"Damnation," Dace whispered as Cyrael flew away to the west, deeper into the abandoned district. One last gust of air swept the area, causing the mercenary's aim to waver. Lowering the crossbow, Dace began running in pursuit of the celestial, ignoring the shouts coming from the Prelate behind him.
(4:19)
The natural response was to run. But where could she go? Nell knew that she would only become lost, were she to navigate the streets in the middle of the night without a guide. And that gargantuan… thing was blocking her path to the legion of knights in the distance. Not that the knights would offer any protection, of course, judging by the ease that the monster seemed to shred its way through their ranks. She turned away, and counted herself fortunate that it was too dark to see the path of blood left by the beast.
Something fell out of the sky and rolled across the ground nearby, causing Nell to leap. The sight of the telltale red glow made her heart sink. The damned magical cube… back to taunt her again.
"I knew it," she muttered, "I'm cursed." Stepping closer, she picked up the artifact and held it at eye level. "Why do you keep following me?" she asked the cube.
"I am not," said a voice from the alley behind her, "You are not that important."
She turned and took a quick step back as Dace emerged, carrying a crossbow by his side. "What do you want from me now? Haven't I suffered enough for one–"
"Shut up, brat. I have not the time for this. Give me the artifact."
"Whatever. Take it," she said, tossing it to him. I'm so sick of seeing the thing anyway.
When Dace caught it, there was a sudden hissing noise. The mercenary screamed and dropped the red cube, gripping his smoking left hand in pain. Nell saw that a square-shaped hole was burned through the palm of the man's glove, leaving the skin underneath scalded red and raw. It almost hurt just to look at it. She looked down at her own hand, which was completely unaffected when she handled the cube herself.
Swearing under his breath, the mercenary quickly covered his hand and glared at Nell. "Fine. You are magic resistant? You do something about it. That cube is what sustains the beast," he said, cocking his head at the huge monster. "Fix it."
He turned and began to hurry to the southwest, deeper into the district.
"Wait, I – what do you expect from me? That thing might kill me!" Nell shouted as she picked up the cube.
Dace yelled over his shoulder, "Survival is not a right. If you cannot even earn it, you deserve your death. Try bleeding on it… or drive it up your arse, for all I care."
"A city full of freaks," she mumbled, staring down at the cube that sat quietly in her hand. The screams of dying soldiers were growing more distant as the beast made its way further from the tower. Nell groaned, wishing she had stayed at home.
As much as she disliked that psychopath, he was right about one thing… she could at least try to do something with the damnable cube to stop the creature.
Crazy to think I'll bleed on it, though, she thought to herself. Wiping the dirt off of the cube, Nell glanced up at the skies. "If anyone's up there listening, you owe me for this."
Nell always believed being born in a dead magic zone was a blessing that kept the idiotic adventurer's lifestyle outside of arms' length. Who could have guessed it would turn out to be the opposite? A disgusted look crossed her face. Only way out of this city is past the monster… guess it's time to try something incredibly stupid.
Raising the cube closer, she tried putting the cube in her mouth and sealed her lips.
(4:25)
Even as the cleric passed the threshold into the room, Lenthyrr made no move. The undead elf continued to stare out the window, watching the disorganized humans hurry around like ants. It was unsettling that the Behemoth had seemingly dissipated into red mist just now, but Lenthyrr assumed that Cyrael must have neglected to create the magical tether between the Behemoth's Heart and the Wild Source.
"I was expecting you, though not so soon," she began, listening to Selena's slow footsteps. "You missed the bloodbath down there. The Behemoth must have expended its power… an oversight on Cyrael's part, though not one that cannot be rectified."
"Where are you holding Cerdan?" the cleric demanded.
"Look yonder." Lenthyrr finally turned to face Selena and pointed down out the window. "Caden lies near the tower's base, alone and vulnerable. Without the Behemoth to protect him, do you think your noble Prelate will hesitate to murder him? The Bloodletter must be protected if our kind is to survive the coming decades. He would be in no danger now, if only he'd pledged himself to our cause. That was the only condition Cyrael would have imposed before using the second Sigil to grant Caden the gift of eternity."
The cleric was standing just out of arms' reach, looking quite pitiful with a small metal mace in her hand. No doubt the faithmonger wanted to be able to quickly close the distance between them if Lenthyrr began casting a spell. Of course, such a tactic worked both ways. Lenthyrr saw no casting movements from the cleric's hands, so the young fool probably believed she could fight or talk her way out of this.
"You're a monstrosity," Selena said as she glared at the mage. "The Church of Tyr demands that undead beasts like you be destroyed on sight, but I am willing to show leniency if you tell me where Cyrael is hiding."
"How grand of you. Tell me, do you know how it feels to become undead, a slave to the second life? You can imagine it must be a jarring experience even for humans, to lose so much of what they are through this magical perversion. But it is even worse for an elf." Lenthyrr took a large step forward, and the cleric started to back away. "The 'Black Thumb'; I can't touch plants without feeling them wither and die in my hands. Can you imagine that? To lose a bond with nature that was once an inherent part of your very existence?
"No, of course not. You grew up among humans, didn't you? Sheltered away in their fortresses of stone and marble, bowing and scraping to their gods. As an elf, you sicken me. If this were a fair world, you would be on our side."
"If this were a fair world, there would be no need for 'sides' at all," Selena said. "There are other solutions. My people could restore your soul, or perform a resurrection–"
"By petitioning a human god? I think not. Even if your bigoted deity did permit such a thing, I'd rather die the final death than be touched by the so-called 'divinity' of your kind."
"It's all about you, isn't it? The world hurt you, so now you get even by hurting them back. I've heard it all before."
The cleric suddenly launched herself forward, swinging her mace at the side of Lenthyrr's head. While it struck with a loud crack, Lenthyrr felt no pain from the blow… it was like a light slap to her. The undead elf was more than ready for the second attack, and fluidly stepped to the side as Selena attempted to follow up with another strike. Lenthyrr caught the cleric by the wrist and the front of her robe. "I saw the carnage of Caden's Hill with my own eyes. I saw the injustice your kind has wrought. Would I hurt for that? Would I kill for that? Oh yes, and more."
Lenthyrr lifted the cleric and threw her hard against the wall. Selena dropped her mace as her back slammed on the black metal, and Lenthyrr wasted no time taking the small weapon from the ground and hurling it out the window. "I know why you trust him. It's because you see potential for change in him. Or rather, you think that's what you see in him. You assume he's true to your cause and goals, but you know nothing about him." She crouched and met Selena's eyes. "Caden isn't like you; he's one of us. True sylvan soldiers. And you're just another brainwashed zealot, striking down heathens in the name of some arbitrary divine code without truly weighing for yourself whether your actions are right or wrong. A puppet dancing at the end of a string."
"That's not true at all," Selena growled, rubbing her head as she tried to get up from the ground. "The Behemoth–"
"Was a weapon that your kind were planning to use to commit mass murder. It must have been such a happy coincidence when Caden activated it; one more reason to decry my people as 'evil'. Don't you see how corrupt your faction is?"
Reaching into her robe, Lenthyrr removed the scroll of Imprisonment and unfurled it. "Perhaps a few centuries from now, you'll understand. This day is the turning point… humanity has run its course. But I'll grant you some small mercy; out of respect for Caden and the elvish blood that runs in your veins, you'll live to see the future we bring. But I–"
Selena suddenly whispered a word, and a burst of blue light erupted from the cleric's right hand. A glowing hammer appeared, and she thrust it up, knocking Lenthyrr in the jaw. Lenthyrr briefly remembered what pain felt like as the summoned weapon burned against her cold flesh. Holy magic… and Lenthyrr thought the cleric wouldn't put up much of a fight. Falling over, the elven vampire let go of the scroll and grabbed the pedestal in the centre of the room to keep from landing on the floor.
The cleric snatched the scroll from the ground and held it away from Lenthyrr, crumpling it in one hand as she stuffed it in a pocket on her robe. "I'm not as defenseless as you think. A bolt of glory is enough to kill you, so tell me where Cyrael is before I send you back to whatever afterlife you clawed up from."
Lenthyrr allowed herself a slight grin. "Your words are so much hot air. We both know you won't kill me… even if your code demands it. I learned much about you in preparation for our quest; your nature is far too removed from violence to even–"
The spiritual hammer struck Lenthyrr again in the side of the jaw, sending her stumbling to the window. She could feel her flesh burning away where the weapon struck. Now she had trouble opening her mouth to speak. "That was nothing. You cling to an outdated ideal; you still don't have a heart steely enough to kill a person, even undead. I would have granted you your life and a chance to see a better world, after the coming crisis had passed," Lenthyrr said through clenched teeth. "You stand there now, ready to dole out your righteous fury. But if you stood before him on that vengeful day fifty years ago, would you be prepared to do the same? Would you deny him that chance to become the man he is today?"
"You're undead."
"This has nothing to do with the second life, this has always been about ideology! Am I less worthy of mercy than he is, since you share acquaintance with him and not myself? Over the past fifty years, I've killed dozens of zealots, so-called knights and priests of your black order, all of which deserved death. In a single day, he killed thousands of elves, none of which were guilty of anything but serving the protection of their families."
Selena glared daggers at Lenthyrr, but kept her distance. "You may blame us for what happened before, but that doesn't exempt you for what is happening now. I think your hatred has made you delusional."
"I don't give a damn what you think. Everything I've done today has been for the betterment of elvenkind. It's simply the wild law out there; a species must usurp others or be destroyed. It is a harsh lesson to learn, and I don't think you are capable of understanding that." Lenthyrr added, "It doesn't matter what happens to me now. Cyrael has all that he needs to save our race from humanity."
"He won't. Submit to us, help us prevent more death, and I can guarantee your life." Selena advanced on Lenthyrr, moving her hands in preparation of another spell.
Lenthyrr glanced out the window. The knights seemed to be regrouping in the distance, and were probably preparing for another move against the tower. Caden still lay vulnerable below as well. She turned her eyes on Selena. "My life ended a long time ago. Even facing oblivion, I've tasted victory." Lenthyrr took a step back and turned, then planted her hands against the base of the large window as she vaulted over the side of the tower.
I'll survive the fall, but you won't. She closed her eyes as wind whistled past her ears and focused on a feather fall spell to slow her drop. As she spoke the words, gravity seemed to relax its hold on her, and she continued to plummet, but at a more gentle speed. Next, she turned her thoughts to the magic that held the tower in place. Concentrating on the symbols in her memory, she mentally broke the conjuration and then heard a low rumble come from the black structure.
She still had less than a minute before the tower completely fell to pieces. That was all the time she'd need to quickly grab Caden and carry him to a safer location. All that–
A huge burst of pain exploded in her side, accompanied by a streak of light shooting down from above. She flailed her arms ineffectually, and twisted in mid-air in time to see Selena move away from the balcony. The bolt of light had torn through her hip at the joint, and now her left leg seemed to be dangling off her body by mere strands of charred flesh. As the magic from the attack faded, so too did the pain, but that didn't make the injury any easier to look at.
Distracted by the damage to her body, she unexpectedly hit the ground on her side and felt a cloud of dust billow up around her.
(4:37)
When the cleric emerged from the tower, Nell felt a small wave of relief pass through her. Selena frantically waved her arms at the woman, and pointed toward the unconscious elf lying near the tower base. As Nell started toward them, she felt a very slight tremor move through the ground. A huge black sheet of metal fell into the dirt mere metres from Nell's position, digging deep and embedding itself like a slanted monolith.
She broke into a run, and closed in on the elves just as Selena was gathering up what looked a sparkling blue globe in a dark cloth.
"Take his arm," ordered Selena, seizing the fallen elf by one shoulder. "Help me move him to – no, I meant his other arm – the tower's coming down, hurry!"
Nell quickly used both hands to grab him by the forearm, and they started to pull him away from the tower. Several more metallic panels started landing in the clearing, and Selena and Nell had to weave a path around the falling debris with the unconscious elf in tow.
(4:40)
Rolling onto her stomach, Lenthyrr pushed herself up on her forearms and glanced around, and saw Selena with someone else a short distance from the tower, dragging Cerdan away from the tower. She dug her fingers into the hard earth and clawed her way forward, pushing along with the one good leg. All she had to do was crawl over, and perhaps she would be able to call out and–
Before she had moved even a metre, a door-shaped shard of black metal came down and crashed into the ground, jutting out of the soil at an odd angle, enough to block her path. A few seconds later, a shard about half the size of the first one came down, this one cleaving directly through her back.
(4:42)
"I don't understand it, sir. First the Behemoth just… evaporates, and now the black spire seems to be breaking into pieces."
"Tyr answers our devotion with victory this day," Saudere said to Sir Rennemar. Or that man in black was able to shatter the bottle… but then why is there no sign of the demon that lay dormant within?
He shook his head. "No matter. Have the remaining men search the site for the Bloodletter. I want him found and kept incapacitated if he's still alive."
"We'll have to wait for the rest of the tower to crumble, sir. It's far too hazardous to simply–"
A young acolyte scurried up to the pair and tugged on the arm of the High Prelate's robe.
"What – Villet, is it? What do you want, boy?"
The child scratched his head and pointed a thumb in the direction of the tower of Tyr. "Sir, a number of the city's resident faithful request your return to the tower."
"Not now, boy, we are in the middle of a crisis."
"But sir, she – one of the clerics, Charell, says that clergy under your direction are engaged in illegal activities."
Saudere folded his arms, shaking his head at this nonsense. "Preposterous. Tell her I've better things to do then waste time on fabricated–"
"She also said to mention some sort of red documents that they confiscated from your quarters."
Damnation. Saudere felt his legs weaken slightly. If they were in possession of the Cardinal Scrolls… damnation, he had been assured that the lock of his quarters could not be breached in his absence.
"Sir, are you unwell?" asked Rennemar.
The High Prelate took a deep breath and steadied himself, then pointed toward the tower. "Direct the search once the area is secure, make certain the Bloodletter is found. I must attend to this matter at the temple."
"As you say, sir."
The Prelate waved two of his Royal Horsemen over. If they had confiscated all the documents in his quarters and knew what information they contained, then he might need protection. Saudere fastened his robe tightly and straightened his back before stepping after the acolyte. "Lead on."
(4:48)
Cerdan rubbed his eyes as the world returned to him in a dark blur. As his vision cleared, he saw Selena and Dace standing nearby, as well as that girl from the cave beneath Waterdeep. In the girl's hand was the glowing green cube that Cyrael had taken. How she managed to acquire it was beyond him.
The rogue propped himself up against the wall behind him and called out to the others. "I thought you lot were still in Waterdeep. Did I miss anything important?"
Selena came over and helped him to his feet. "That undead woman tried to use this imprisonment spell on me." She lifted a crumpled scroll partway out of a pocket on her robe for him to see. "The tower collapsed after she jumped from the window to try and reach you before the rest of my Order did. Doubt the fall was enough to kill her, though I managed to hit her with a bolt of glory before I lost sight of her. I'm not sure what happened to her after that, exactly."
"I think I saw someone in a wizard's outfit lying on the ground over there," offered the girl, pointing across the clearing to an area among the tower ruins.
"Who in the Nine Hells are you, anyway?" Cerdan asked.
"Never mind her," said the cleric, "Dace tells me he tracked Cyrael to a building, some sort of abandoned shrine south of here. I can't imagine what the celestial plans to do there."
"He still carries the Heart, doesn't he? Well, at least he doesn't have this." Cerdan reached under his leather jerkin and removed an item from one of his inner pockets. He held the Sigil out to her. "I palmed it from Cyrael back at the temple of Tyr, switched it with that protection amulet Derrick gave me. The moron didn't even ask why I wrapped it in a white cloth."
"You people aren't actually insane enough to chase after that violent angel, are you?" asked the girl, "Maybe you should get help from those knights, now that the monster is gone."
"No!" shouted the three others in unison.
"While I'm all for gathering decoys," Cerdan added, "They'll probably shoot me on sight, considering how much I stick out right now. Not too many other elves in this area, you know."
"So, what, the three of you are just going to charge after an undying immortal by yourselves? How do you even expect to hurt him, let alone beat him?"
"There is no such thing as an unbeatable foe," Dace said, "Nor do we face one now. The winged freak is fool enough to carry a bottled demon of some sort on his person that feeds upon magical energy. Break the bottle, we kill the so-called 'celestial'."
"How do you know that'll work?"
"I do not. But I will adapt should the situation require it. Not all of us are as frail and defenseless as you." He started off, leading the way to the south.
"Crazy. I think I'd rather take my chances with the knights," Nell muttered, walking in the opposite direction. "Enjoy your suicide."
"It's probably for the best," Selena said to Cerdan. "She'll take the wild magic cube away from here; I told her to go find Charell when she has the chance and inform them of all that has occurred. How are you feeling?"
"Like I just had my chest ripped open and I flooded all the streets with my spilled anger and wrath." He paused a moment, then rubbed his stomach. "No, never mind, just a little hungry. We'd better hurry after Dace before Cyrael turns the fellow into so much red paste."
She took up the wrapped ice sphere in her hand and followed after the mercenary. Cerdan glanced back at the place where the black tower had stood only a short while ago. Now the structure was reduced to a series of scattered metal panels, strewn across the clearing like broken glass. And Lenthyrr…
"Actually, Selena, you go on ahead," he called out to her. "There's something else I have to finish here. I won't be long."
"But the knights know you're here. They'll be scouring this area shortly."
"I won't be long," he repeated, waving her off. "Don't worry, I can track you down. Not too many buildings off in that direction anyway, if I recall correctly."
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes in what looked like suspicion, but said nothing and continued on her way after Dace.
Cerdan hurried back to the tower ruins and began navigating through the debris that littered the area where Nell claimed she saw Lenthyrr. In the distance, he could see a few knights with torches, approaching the crumbled tower, but it was still dark enough that the humans' eyes wouldn't be able to spot him.
Over to his right, behind a particularly large piece of black metal, he heard a slow, intermittent scraping noise. Peeking around the side, he suddenly coughed and had to cover his nose. Lenthyrr was on the ground, gradually crawling away from the tower. Or rather, her upper half was. Nearby, Cerdan could see a pile of ash among the legs and lower torso of her clothing, evidently bisected from the elven vampire by yet another piece of shrapnel. A slight trial of dark, oddly viscous fluid leaked from the upper half of the woman's body. It probably wasn't blood, but the smell told him he'd be better off not knowing for sure.
As Lenthyrr noticed him, she struggled to prop herself up on her left forearm. Her mouth moved, but her attempt to form words came out like a long, tired wheeze. Apparently her lungs wouldn't take in air. Cerdan crouched down in front of her and focused on her lip movements, while listening for the faint outline of words in her wheezing.
Cyrael must succeed, she seemed to say. Save our people. Sacrifices. Remember yourself. Remember Caden's Hill.
Cerdan's own lips formed a thin line as he looked into her dark eyes. He then stood up and took a few paces to the right before using both hands to pry one of the black pieces of shrapmetal out of the ground. Returning to Lenthyrr's side, he said, "I know well enough who I was, and I've learned to accept that. But Caden isn't my name any more, nor was it even mine at birth." He flipped the large shard over in his hands and checked the edge with his finger. "I do remember Caden's Hill, that's the problem."
He squatted down beside her and gripped the black piece of metal tightly, with the longest edge facing down. "You see, as pig-headed as his kind can be, that Prelate of Tyr – Saudere, or whatever his name is – he has the right idea. He wants to cover up the truth about Caden's Hill. And do you know why? Because he knows that if people did learn what really happened, then someone might – no, someone will find a way to either replicate the power of the Behemoth, or track me down and turn me into a weapon, just like Cyrael did.
"Will I be vilified, even long after I'm six feet under? Of course, but hey, I can live with that. Why do you think I never once returned to elvish territory after the massacre? Too many questions would be asked." He frowned and stared into her eyes. "So let's just settle on silence, shall we?"
Lenthyrr merely shook her head, returning an empty stare. I cannot.
His jaw began to feel rather stiff, as he knew what had to be done. "I was afraid you'd say that. Well, I've already earned a few hundred or thousand deaths to my name… one more won't change much." With that, he raised his arms high in the air, and drove the metal shard down into Lenthyrr's neck. A cloud of ash and the stink of brimstone erupted into his face as he decapitated the elven vampire, and he held the black plate in place for a moment until he was certain that the rest of her body was completely dissipated.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he released the piece of black metal and brushed the thick grey dust from his face and clothes. He stood silently for a moment, staring down at the dust-filled remnants of Lenthyrr's robe. "Hmph. Perhaps there is a bit of the Bloodletter left in me, after all."
(5:00 AM)