"Between Shadow and Light"

[Sytze]

Between Shadow and Light

“Matters of the Heart”

Today is one of those days, a day torn between feelings of the heart and thoughts of the mind. A day torn between emotions.

The sky is at its darkest tonight. Big, looming clouds hang threateningly above the heads of the inconsequential humans walking idly below, reminding them how small and insignificant their life is should they actually bother looking up. It’s raining too, fast and hard as if the world is trying to cleanse itself of the vermin disturbing its peaceful existence.

It isn’t raining hard enough.

On one of the highest buildings of Atkathla, capital city of Amn, stands a sulking figure, his face obscured by the large, pitch-black hood hanging loosely over his head. He is a rogue and an archer, one of the few in Atkathla, probably one of the few in the whole region of Amn. He is here with a goal, a personal one. I am him, and I am waiting, waiting for a window to be opened in the large, wealthy house in front of me.

It’s taking too long, and I wonder if I hired the right person for this delicate job.

A cold chill runs down my spine, sends shivers through my entire body, and almost makes my flesh creep. I draw my cloak tightly around me and wait patiently. The rain is increasing its numbers and the ferocity of its attacks, but it does not bother me. If anything, the drips on my hood work soothing, calming, like the waves of an ocean gently slipping up and down a beach. If it wasn’t raining and thundering, I might’ve actually been able to hear the waves of the Sea of Swords crashing on the Atkathlan docks.

A flash of lightning rips the sky in half and illuminates the surroundings of the government district in Atkathla, where the richest and noblest of people scurry around like they are the most important beings of this world. How little they know of their life outside of their wealthy houses and secure havens, how little they care. I shouldn’t be bothered, though, this is the city of coin. A few gold pieces mean the difference between the disgusting gutters in the slums and the exorbitant houses in the government district.

Another lightingbolt thunders down from the skies above my head. I squint my eyes and take a closer look at the house I’m about to enter. There is a host of guards standing at the front entrance, their weapons and armor finely polished and cleaned. For the common man the blinking metal in the dim lighted entrance might be a threatening and imposing sight, but I know better. These guardsmen are standing there more for show and appearance than actual safety. The skilled warriors are all gathered inside, probably within close distance of their respective employers.

The guards are inspecting everyone who enters, and there are many to inspect, for the Lord of the House, Galdron Venray, is hosting a costumed grand ball. Every other entrance to the mansion is guarded by at least another two or three guards and are therefore impossible to enter without alarming the entire compound. Not that I would simply kill them anyway, needles bloodshed isn’t quite what you’d say right up my alley.

It continues to poor from the skies while I wait and wait for the sign that tells me all is well.

Two short and fast flashes of light are suddenly noticeable from one of the rooms inside the building. It’s coming from the third floor, just above the main room where the ball is being held. Still, it’s several feet below me, a jump impossible to make. I am standing on the Cowled Wizards’ building and they don’t come much higher and more impressive than this one in Atkathla.

Another two flashes quickly follow the first two. The room is empty and the room is safe.

I swing my Longbow off my back, grab the specially crafted arrow from my quiver, and attach the rope hanging idly over my shoulder to the shaft of the projectile. Bringing the arrow to my eye, I wait another few seconds for my contact to find a safe place inside the room. When the wind suddenly changes direction and blows a host of raindrops in my face I release the arrow. It whistles lowly through the air, through the window, right into the room. It buries itself with a dull thumb in the wall at the end of the room and again I wait, wait for my contact to finish his preparations.

Another two flashes. I tie the rope around a small chimney, give it a short pull to test its strength and reliability, and, finally, untie the string of my bow. I swing the bow over the rope and slide smoothly into the room. In the dark, rainy night I’m barely noticeable, like a bat silently hunting its unsuspecting prey.

As I slide through the window, my contact extinguishes his torch and moves to the center of the room. “You’d better meet your end of the bargain,” comes his husky, crackling voice as untie the rope from the arrow and throw it outside.

I laugh silently under my dark hood. Who does he think he is? and who on earth does he think he is dealing with? He doesn’t notice my haughty grin, though, for I’m probably little more than a shadow to his eyes, to all his senses. My leathery armor is dark blue, almost black, while my cloak is darker than the darkest of nights to have ever graced Amn with its presence. At the edges my cloak is adorned with intense blood red engravings, which light up for a short period of time to my command, to my will.

He shuffles uncomfortably from foot to foot and gives a small cough. “The gold,” he begins again, but more firmly this time when he notices I’m not replying, “we had a deal. I expect you to honor it.” The man’s voice is appalling, he talks as if a fireball exploded close to his face and scorched his entire throat.

I do not like his threats. I’ve never been able to stomach commands, much less the demanding of this scum, no matter how useful he may’ve been. “Or else?” I challenge him with so coolly that it straightens the hairs on the back of his neck.

I pull the arrow from the wall and attach the string to my bow once again. He looks at me intensely, trepidation clearly visible in his light green eyes. As I put the arrow on my bow and aim the weapon casually at his heart, he hesitatingly takes a few steps back.

[Sytze]

“I was told by our mutual acquaintance that you were trustworthy!” he tries, cries, almost pleadingly, thinking I value the gold he was promised more than his life.

I pull the string slowly to my eye and I see his body beginning to shake. “You heard so correctly,” I whisper blankly, “but if you do not hold up to your reputation, why should I be inclined to?” I’m playing a game here, but he doesn’t need to know it. Fear is what will keep him alive when our deal is finished.

“What… what do you mean?”

I sigh wryly. “I was told you were punctual and precise, yet you left me waiting for quite a while out there, outside on the rooftops, in the rain. I do not appreciate delays, not with a matter as important as this.”

His eyes slide over my body and I see the surprised and questioning look in his eyes when he notices I’m not soaked, when I’m not even covered by the odd drop of rain. I smile knowingly; this man knows little to nothing about enchanted armor.

“I… there were… I met some unexpected resistance,” he stammers, looking at the blinking arrow in front of his face.

“Enlighten me,” I snort sharply. “But make it quick, because, as you know, I have other business to attend to. You are but an obstacle for me and it is for you to decide how big of an obstacle you will be. Do not be an annoyance, I warn you. My patience is short-lived.”

He swallows hard and nods respectfully.

I lower my bow and swing it on my back again. I had, and still have, no intention of killing him; I simply need him to fear me, to make sure he priors his own safety above everything else. Not that he needs to know that, a little bit of intimidation never hurt anyone. Besides, it keeps him honest and attentive.

His posture becomes more relaxed when there’s no longer an arrow aimed at his body. “I’m sure you already know, but… but this place is crawling with guards,” he says a little tentatively, yet matter-of-factly, “it was actually quite a challenge to get here unseen. There’s many a group of guards patrolling the various hallways and rooms. And believe me, this house has many halls. Venray’s estate is larger than most houses in Atkathla.”

“A challenge?” I echo amused. “Truly, I question your reputation as an infiltrator with each word you manage to utter.”

“I’m here, ain’t I?” he answers annoyed, frowning his forehead. “And so are you. So that means I must’ve done at least something right.”

I notice the edge in his voice, an edge that tells me I hurt him in his pride, in his reputation. Although I care little about his pride, he has a point. He delivered as promised and he delivered well, despite the delay. I untie a little bag with golden coins from the belt under my dark cloak and throw it to him. This game has taken long enough already.

“Count it if you wish, but it is all there,” I say. “As promised.”

He tosses the small bag up and down and weighs it in his hands. Then, after murmuring and mumbling a few inaudible sentences, he nods satisfied, a wide, greedy smile stretched on his face. Everything and everyone can be bought in the city of coin, it’s disgusting.

I turn my back on him, silently open the door out of the room a few inches, and take a quick peak down the corridor. My eyes need to adjust to the bright lights and the shining items for a moment before I’m able to see the inside of this building in its full splendor. There are many torches and candles enlightening the hallway and its various pieces of furniture and so-called ‘fine art.’ The floor is covered by several exotic looking tapestries, probably Kara-Turan, while a couple of large, diamond inlaid chandeliers hang imposing from the ceiling. If the hallways already look like this, I wonder how Venray decorated his main room where the ball is being held. If I wasn’t here for more serious matters, this could’ve been a real profitable visit. At it is, however, my being here has nothing to do with money and wealth, but everything with personal matters.

“No one here,” I say softly, my senses weary to possible unwanted company. “I suggest you take your bag of coins and get out.”

He nods again and makes his way to the door. When he’s practically looking over my shoulder, I turn to him and eye him intensely. He probably isn’t able to see my eyes under my dark hood, but stops cold in his tracks due to a sharp dagger pressing dangerously against his soft belly. This time I am not playing a game, this is dead serious.

“Leave this place and leave it as unnoticed as you entered it.” I hiss sharply while pressing the dagger deeper and deeper to accentuate my point. “If you will not be leaving or if you are caught -it is all the same to me, really- then the last thing you will feel is an arrow sticking through your neck or a dagger in your chest.”

He swallows hard the second time in barely a few minutes when he hears my threat. “Don’t worry, I… I have what I needed. You’re on your own.”

I stare at him hard for a few more moment and I see drops of sweat dripping down his face. I nod my head and let him pass. There’s no need to follow him. This man has the skills to leave this estate unnoticed, I made sure of that when I hired him. Besides, I have another target, one that demands my attention more than this infiltrator.

I straighten my back, take a deep breath, and push every thought from my mind. I need to focus completely to the task at hand. I take another quick look down the hallway and slip silently through the door. Stealthily, I move from room to room, from shadow to shadow, evading the countless guard patrols.

[Sytze]

I stare down the shining point of my arrow at Galdron Venray, the man who made this ball possible. From the outside my body is totally calm, unshaken, but inside it doesn’t feel like that. I feel like I’m a bird caught up in a hurricane, unable to move, yet at the same time violently tossed and thrown from side to side. My mind tells me to release the arrow, but my heart won’t allow my fingers to move. It’s the eternal struggle of my life. I know much of this city and its inhabitants, too much, but there are days when that knowledge collides with what I see and experience.

Today is one of those days.

Galdron deserves death, I know that. What I’ve seen him do disgust me to my core, shakes the very foundations of everything I stand for and believe in. Yet that which I see now is also what I believe in. I see trust, affinity, care, even love. Love for family and friends, for those close to him. I see Venray’s beautiful daughter laughing and dancing with pleasure. The world is so careless to her now. Her mother seems to shine with an inner radiance, her posture proud, her smile happy. Venray’s son stands just a few feet away from them. He bathes in the attention the young women are giving him.

They are innocent, I know that too. Venray hides his life from his family well, they know nothing about the man behind the silken soft smile.

I do.

I came here to end a miserable man’s life, but now I’m here I know I will be ending much more than that. I will be ending the innocent lives of his family, the love they feel for him. I will end life as they currently experience it. And that pains my heart more than I thought it would. If it was just the man, it would all be so much easier. But if I take him down, I will probably take his family along with him. I’ve seen and experienced it before, firsthand. There are few things so capable of eating away a man’s soul.

I look down and see the bright, warming smile on the face of Galdron’s daughter. She’s beautiful, delicate like a spring’s morning flower. A flower which I will shatter with just one move of my slender finger.

Sorrow and anguish flood over me as I rest my eyes on her. A deep sigh escapes my lips and I take the arrow my bow. I untie the small paper from the arrow’s shaft and fumble it in my pocket. As I lay my eyes on Venray again, I take a deep breath and aim my arrow once again at his heart. No matter the consequences, this man needs to die. I took the decision a long time ago, one I know is rightly taken, and one I won’t come back to anymore.

I take a look around the grand hall to see if anyone notices me. The hall is enormous, larger than one would expect when looking at the estate from the outside. It’s two floors high and almost encompasses the entire length and width of the estate. It’s as if the place was build for a ball like this.

I’m sitting on a ledge covered partially by a long, reddish looking curtain. In the shades, away from any revealing light, no one is able to see me. There are no torches, chandeliers or anything else able to illuminate the contours of my body.

Venray is standing a few feet away from me and from here I can pretty much see the color in everyone’s eyes. It’s the ideal place for an assassin like me. It took me a long time, a lot of energy, and even more patience to get here unseen, but it’s without question the perfect location to make my shot.

Squatted, I draw the string to my face and bring the arrow to my eye. I know what’s to come if I release it. Panic, chaos, anger, sadness, it will come to an explosion all at once. It won’t be pretty.

I take a look at Galdron’s family and my heart screams no. I take a look at Galdron himself and my mind demands yes.

The eternal struggle.

[Sytze]

And then it flew, just as magnificent as imperturbable, towards its ultimate goal in life. Time fades for a short period of time as I release the arrow and watch it fly through the richly decorated room. Barely a second before the projectile hits its target I see men and women turning their heads in absolute disbelieve, their faces twisted, their eyes blinking frantically. This isn’t a dream, but it takes a while before they realize it isn’t.

The arrow pierces Galdron’s costume, sends shreds of his clothing through the air, and knocks him off his feet. His body doesn’t move or spasm, he falls like a leaf from a three, silently and undisturbed. The expression on his face hasn’t even changed, the arrow hit him too fast and too precise for that. He’s dead before he falls.

His wife is the first to scream. His daughter looks as if something deep inside her snapped, tore the person who she was abruptly apart. She stares dumbfounded, unable to move, her eyes filling up with tears.

I feel the pain coming.

More screams and shouts. Slowly a mixture of panic and trepidation creeps through the crowd, controls those of a weak mind.

“What happened!?”

It takes only a few seconds before chaos starts to develop.

“An assassin!”

Some begin to run, others look around frantically. Masks, glasses, food, everything clatters on the ground. The few who manage to control their nerves and keep their wits focus on the fallen one or on the path the arrow has traveled.

“Protect the family! Ransack the estate, find this murderer!”

Galdron’s wife falls next to his body, sobbing.

“No, no… don’t leave me alone, don’t abandon me. Stay with me, my love. Don’t… ”

His daughter is broken, a mere shell of the woman she was barely a minute ago. I can’t remove my eyes from her hollow expression, it traps my soul.

“Where did that come from?”

Several guards are pointing in my direction, although I’m fairly sure they are still unable to see me. Some move up the stairs to the second floor, crossbows in their hands, ready to fire their bolts at the first sign of unwanted company.

This is it. Job done. Only one last thing to do.

I close my eyes shortly and try to remove my gaze from the young woman. I swing my bow on my back, slowly straighten my body, and take another deep breath. I need to do this, she has a right to know. I can’t just leave her, them, like that. Unknowing, uncertain.

Another deep breath.

I jump from the ledge, my cloak flapping because of the sudden gush of wind trapped under it. I must look like a shadow to them, a creature of the night. Evil and without remorse.

“There he is! Take him!”

I land smoothly on the oriental tapestry, right before Venray’s daughter.

“Hold your fire!”

I’m too close to the daughter of the house, these guards are good, but not good enough to hit me without endangering the young woman. Such a fair woman, beautiful, with eyes that speak of an inner intelligence and wisdom beyond most in this city.

I calmly step forward, my face a few inches from hers. I bring my hands to the hood of my cloak and gently pull it back, just enough for her to see my face, just enough for the rest of the hall to see nothing but shadow.

A bolt is released when I move my hands. It harmlessly flies by, but it hits the floor with a loud thumb.

“Hold your fire, damnit! Do as I say!”

I look her straight in the eyes, she’s shaking, frozen solid to the ground. She’s angry, horrified, but also dead scared. I’m the personification of her worst nightmares.

“Get away from my sister! Don’t you dare touch her!”

[Sytze]

Her bright blue eyes lock stares with my dark brown, but she can’t hold it for long, even her eyes are trembling.

“Now you know who I am, who killed your father.” I whisper softly, engagingly. “Know that he deserved it without question, but also know that if there was any other way I could have handled him, I would have gladly done so.”

Her face is wrought between surprise and complete indignation. Tears are now dripping down her face, while her lips start moving, unsure of what to say.

“I warn you, filthy bastard, if you harm one hair on her I head, I swear I shall… ”

Venray’s son draws the saber on his belt and goes for my throat. My hands move to a hidden dagger beneath my cloak, but stop in their tracks when I notice I don’t need to keep the young man in check. Venray’s daughter, her arm outstretched, urges her brother to stay back.

“Don’t come closer, Hariald, please. Stay… stay back. Please.” she stammers.

He looks at her hesitatingly, then looks around with doubt, hoping to find support. When he receives no clear answers he stays put as requested, respecting his sister’s wishes. For the moment.

She reluctantly turns her face towards me, but doesn’t say anything. Whether because she’s still unable to or because she simply doesn’t want to, I do not know. The glittering in her eyes don’t tell me clear story either. I see hatred, sadness, but also deep emptiness.

I nod curtly and take a step back. I hear several relieved sighs when I take my distance from the woman.

“I am truly sorry,” I say one last time before whispering something else under my breath. The engravings on my cloak light up in the blink of an eye, before turning blood red just as fast.

Now she opens her mouth, but it’s too late, I’m no longer there in physical form. The words that were supposed to come out turn into sobs when she falls to her knees.

She’s losing control now, I can see it. She grasps the air where I just stood, but finds nothing but empty space. Empty space and more uncertainty.

Scared and inquisitive voices cry out, ask questions, demand answers. A call for my death sounds from every direction.

I lay my hand on her shoulder, which startles her from her sobs. “I have information, answers, and reasons,” I say heartily, “if you want them, leave a message on your balcony in the near future, and I might provide them.”

Still invisible, I turn around to leave the place unnoticed, but remind myself that I haven’t told her everything. Silently, I squat next to her.

“But I warn you,” I say, now more firmly, “this information might hurt you more than you might think. It will hurt the image you have of your father deeper than you will expect.”

I wonder if she even hears my words, so distanced does she look. Perhaps I shouldn’t have shown myself to her, shouldn’t have told her this. Not so soon. But I couldn’t leave her like that, unknowing. Could I?

I don’t know, and I’m at a loss.

She swallows the big lump of pain in her throat and answers the questions for me. “Get away from me!” she suddenly snaps furiously. “Leave me alone!”

Before I can react, she lashes out at me and hits me square in the face. No small feat considering I’m still invisible. The hit staggers me back and I almost bump against her brother, Hariald, who has no idea what’s going on or who his sister is screaming at.

I manage to find my balance in time. But now I’m again torn between what to do, give her the paper in my pocket or step away from all of this, leave them alone. I want to tell them why I did this, why Galdron Venray had everything coming, but I know that will only end with me dead on the floor, crossbow bolts sticking out of my chest.

I shake my head and turn away from the painful scene in front of me. A lifeless Venray in my wake, his family torn and broken, just as the party. I took a decision, I need to accept the consequences, no matter what my heart screams. Answers can’t be given bluntly, not now. That’s for the ones who are left behind to decide. And apparently she already made her decision. One I can’t blame her for. I just showed her the deep hells of Atkathla, no one would forgive anyone such a thing.

No, my part in this disastrous play is over. For today.

Today, one of those days.

[Sytze]

“Choices Made”

“Hope?”

Hope, a word capable of such devastating emotions. It can inspire a man to great heights, make him capable of great things, but it can crumble him to the deepest ravine at the same time, throw in him in a pit with no escape. What or where are we without hope? I sometimes wonder. Better off, perhaps? Without hope we hold no expectations, without expectations we cannot be disappointed, and without disappointment life would be so much easier. Hope can so easily turn into despair when our dreams do not come to fruition, when what we pray for is not granted.

But these are thoughts born out of moments of weakness, thoughts come into existence after times of self-pity and doubt. Hope can grant a man strength, faith, the will to live and survive. When the prospect of a carefree future looms on the horizon, troublesome times can be overcome. That is the beauty of hope, the feeling that, in the end, everything might just turn out alright. That sunshine follows darkness, happiness follows sadness.

Hope borders so close on despair, on disappointment. It is a fine line easily crossed, a line I know I am balancing on right now.

“Hope… ”

That’s my name, plain and simple. I wonder what they were thinking when they gave me the name. I bet they never expected me to wield it as a weapon against some, never expected me to make or break it so easily in others. Hope. Do I grant people hope? I am sure I do and have, even today. With Venray gone I gave hope to a lot of people, the fruits of that kill will feed many from starvation. Yet it does not fill my heart with pride or satisfaction, on the contrary. Today I smashed the hope of a family, crushed their dreams and lives. Will the beautiful feeling ever return to them? Do I deserve my name or give it credit in any way? Or am I a stain on its reputation, a herald of its demise?

“Hope!”

I shake my head and take my sight of the capturing fire in the hearth. I’m back at my home, where one of my only friends awaited my arrival. I didn’t bother him with my presence upon my entrance, though, I needed the time alone.

I guess he discovered me nonetheless. I should have known that evading him was an impossible task. He is a lot like me in many ways, yet so different in others.

“Are you alright?” he asks worried, holding an ale in both his hands. “You look distracted. The job did went well, didn’t it?”

“I am here, Iaron, am I not?”

“That’s a question,” he replies.

“One which answers yours,” I say blankly.

He shakes his head in resignation, knowing he will not be receiving a clearer explanation than that. The job is obviously done. He walks towards me and offers one of his ales to me, but I wave him away, a drink will not help me recollect my thoughts this night.

He eyes me cautiously. “Care to tell me what happened?”

I do not answer him. Instead, I grab the fumbled piece of parchment from one of my many pockets and throw it to him. Stupid move, he can’t catch it while holding two drinks. Still, his eyes widen when he sees the ball of paper, he knows all too well what’s written on it.

“You have got to be kidding me.” he declares, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why? Why did you do that? Now they will consider this as a simple assassination, nothing more and nothing less.”

I sigh, arms crossed on my chest, the hood of my cloak hanging loosely on my back, the hearth’s light dancing playfully on my face. “I just couldn’t. His family, his friends, they were… I was… ” my voice travels off, I’m searching for words I cannot find.

I bite my lip in frustration.

“I mean, they saw their loved one be killed brutally, right in front of their very eyes! Should I have kicked them any further in the abyss by telling them what a terrible man they loved, what atrocities he had committed in his life?”

Nodding, he puts the drinks down and grabs the paper.

“You weren’t there Iaron.” I continue absently. “I was. His whole family was in the hall, standing right next to him. You should have seen their faces when the sharp-pointed arrow ripped into Venray’s soft flesh.”

“Just what he deserved.” Iaron snorts wryly.

“But is it what his daughter, his son, even his wife deserved!?” I snap back. “I crushed innocent lives with the pull of my finger. I crushed them like they were mere ants crawling in the way. Hope faded from their eyes, I could see it…”

He steps up to me, a finger pointing angrily in front of my face. “You need to get your priorities straight, Hope! Galdron was scum, worst of the worst. He dealt with renegade Shadow Thieves, held close contacts with Slavers, made pacts with Pirates so his precious slave trade was safe. Don’t you ever forget that!” he’s practically screaming now, I can see the anger boiling up inside him. “And don’t you ever forget that he even killed, even killed… ” although his eyes are spitting fire, the name is still unable to leave his lips. The images are too recent, too burned on his mind.

“Derran… ” I whisper, while staring at the bright fire, my thoughts drifting off on the dancing flames and crackling wood.

[Sytze]

Derran. The only true reason why I took this ridiculous job on me. Derran was the fourth friend that made our little quartet. A quartet which doesn’t exist anymore, thanks to Galdron Venray. I cared little about the man’s other exploitations, the pacts and deals he made. Even though they disgusted me greatly, they had no relation to me whatsoever. Venray had nothing to do with me.

Until he killed Derran, that is. Each of us four had our little problems, our little vendettas, but nothing truly serious, or so we thought. We didn’t interfere in each other’s lives, we were simply friends, working together only occasionally when circumstances demanded. Apparently Derran had gotten himself involved with powers beyond his reach, he was nose deep in trouble. He had made enemies of Slavers, enemies greater than his skills, opposed people with allies whose numbers surpassed ours ten-, even hundredfold. But he didn’t tell us, that was our way. One of the unwritten laws upon which our friendships and relations were build.

He should have.

Iaron had found Derran heavily tortured and mutilated in one of the back allays of the Slums. The candle of his life was burning low, flickering, waiting to be extinguished by the slightest whisper of a sound. His tongue was cut out, his ears ripped off, only his eyes were still in place. He was allowed to keep his sight for the short time he had left, so he would be able to see the wounds on his body, experiences his life in its fleeting moments. It was hell on earth. Derran was half death, half crazy when Iaron had found him. It was the most painful sight he had ever seen, who anyone can ever see. I can only imagine the dark moments he shared with Derran in his last moments. A friend, beaten up in mind and body, totally broken.

Iaron had taken Derran to our small house here in the docks and we had given him a proper burial. Since then, the days have been like a tapestry, woven full with battle and death. We searched for information, used every informant at our disposal to find those responsible. We started at the bottom and slowly made our way up. Once found, all would venture down Galdron Venray’s path. None survived. With Venray gone we- I, took out one of the highest ranking scum in Atkathla. A bad move? Perhaps.

We had our revenge, but also lost another friend during the process. Tyrvin did not support us, thought that the past was the past, that our principles were there for a reason, and that we would only make enemies. We were not supposed to wreck our lives.

We didn’t care about how he felt. Vengeance was burning in our hearts.

And now? Venray was one of the leading men responsible for Derran’s death. He commanded the slavers. With him and many others gone our vengeance has been almost satisfied. But we lost and gained dire consequences. I lost a friend, gained more enemies than I can likely count, and disgraced my heart and soul. Every man I’ve killed deserved it, I do not only feel that way, I know it. Yet it is no consolation whatsoever. Evil men have their good sides too, I saw that all too well today. A despicable man, with a caring family.

Did I honor Derran’s spirit with my assassinations? Did I avenge his death? I am unsure. The streets are cleaner, but it is only a matter of time before others take the killed their places.

Did I save and avenge Derran’s soul? I pray I did, but I fear I condemned mine in the process.

“Derran,”

“I would kill Venray’s entire family in retribution if I could.” Iaron says, pulling me away from my thoughts.

I chuckle lightheartedly. “You wouldn’t even come close without endangering yourself, my friend. When we need information you are a master, but fights are not your playground.”

“I am serious. If I encounter a member of his family on the streets, I will make sure he or she joins Galdron in death.” His voice is ice-cold, his expression bloodthirsty. To my own amazement he isn’t joking, he has never been more earnest in his words.

I abruptly turn my face to him, eyes burning with disgust. These words, these threats, coming from my own friend. “I told you before, they are innocent, have nothing to do with Galdron’s exploits.” I say angrily.

Iaron turns to me, his pose threatening. “Neither had Derran!” he screams. “He was there at the wrong moment, at the wrong time. He didn’t deserve this!”

I shake my head and swallow the irritation burning inside me. “Don’t be such a naïve hypocrite!” I say. “Derran didn’t deserve this, no, but his disputes with the Slavers were far from accidents.”

“I. don’t. care.” he hisses. His face is only a few inches from mine, his stare cold, dangerous. “An eye for an eye, a friend for family.”

I am not backing off, I will not allow him to even cherish these thoughts. He is taking this too far.

“You should care.” I retort sharply. “Unless you will find me in your path.”

He’s taken aback by my words “Are… are you threatening me?” he asks, forehead frowned. “Are you threatening your own friend?”

“That is up to you,” I growl. “Friends can cross lines as well. Do not think I will let you go on a rampage because of Derran and because of the nature of our relation. You may be a friend, but that doesn’t mean I accept all your actions uncaring.”

I want to say and do so much more, smash these foolish thoughts from his head. But I can’t. I bite my frustration away and turn my back on him, this conversation is over. I can’t believe Iaron just spoke these words so easily, so carelessly. Derran’s death made him cold, insensitive. It burned a hole in him.

Seeing my back instead of my furious glare seems to give him some courage.

“Bah! You are a disgrace to Derran’s soul,” he shouts, spitting on me. “Unworthy of the label ‘friend’. Get out of my sight! Get away!”

Snap

For the second time today I feel as if an arrow pierced my heart.

“You are unworthy of knowing him!” he continues screaming. “I abhor you and so does Derran. You are nothing. No wonder no one wants you, cares about you. I abhor you! A stain on Derran’s memory you are, filthy do-”

The words don’t leave his mouth as I press my dagger firmly against his throat. He looks surprised, anxious even. The speed of my movements caught him completely off guard.

“Don’t you ever, EVER, speak of me like that again!” I roar. “Don’t you accuse me of being a disgrace to Derran! Who avenged him, huh!? Who put his own life on the line to kill those of the ones responsible? Who? WHO!”

Control is slowly slipping from my grasp, I feel my emotions conquering my grip. I don’t care, I just don’t care!

“I killed, shed blood, crumbled innocent lives, even abandoned my own soul! And you dare accuse me of not caring!?”

Iaron tries to speak, tries to breath, but he can’t. The dagger is pressed against his throat so firmly that small drips of blood are becoming visible. His eyes are protruding, panic overcomes him. He’s starting to tremble.

I shake my head in total frustration, squeeze my eyelids in pain. I have no one, I am no one. With Tyrvin gone I lost my best friend, with Derran gone I am losing Iaron a well. With the killing I lose myself. I have nothing, am nothing. I’m falling, endlessly, and I’m pulling everyone I come in contact with along with me.

“How can you… ”

I grind my teeth and push myself away from Iaron. He falls on his knees, grasping for air, while his hands grab his soar throat. How I want to assault him, verbally and physically. But nothing happens, there is only emptiness. I shake my head and throw my hands up in defeat and resignation. I’m at a loss.

I leave the room, shoulders slumped, spirit crushed. Hope fleeting.

Hope

“Hope… ” I hear Iaron gasp softly, his arm reaching for me.

“Hope.”