The Festering Wound - [Closed Kalinda]

[Olvann Coia]

The Season of Winter
Era I of the Pax Imperialis
Era III of the Celestine Mandate
Era XII Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening
Paradigm Shift: Alleria Prime Opens and the new Empire is revealed as Audrey adresses the peoples
Month of Immanis
fifth Cycle

It had taken him little time to find the vertex that led into the pit he had spent much of his time since his arrival into 'civilisation'. Deftly he launched into a quick jog, his lithe body gracefully flying down into the darkness. He felt dirty. The visit with the Aedile had tainted him. He needed release. His emotions had mounted into a torrent of raw carnal pain. She had blatantly thrown his pride into the blood drenched mud of her city. He clenched his hands, feeling her imaginary windpipe with tenderness. His muscular frame glided seamlessly. He was the very image of a prancing feline.

The whore... Blood raged through his vision and he felt only the lust for her flesh. She had raped him, he felt only shame and overwhelming hatred for his cowardice. How he wished he had the power to sweep aside anyone who stood in her path. How he wished he could have torn her open and looked into her beautiful face and she screamed with her final breath. His legs pumped furiously, stagnant air rushed through his malignant raven hair and he did not stop for the curious crimson eyes staring at him as he flew past. There was no wind down in the bog of black elves. He flew gracefully along the dark stone of Har'oloth. Intent only on one thing. A whore. A whore... He thought with merciless anguish. Finally... Relief, to be moving towards fulfilling his hunger.

Aslan as his witness, he would feast on the flesh of a whore this darkening. His body throbbed with each step, his heart in unison... Sweat began to bead on his face as the blood pulsed through his limbs. Boom... boom... boom... The deep tandem consuming him until his last thought was swept away by the rhythm. Driving him was only one goal. Her blood, the sticky womb he had nestled in. The blood that had spared him, the bastard son of a whore. The Aedile... How beautiful she was... He would have her. He would have them all. Every last single whore.

[Kalinda]

Minhiriath, the light born elf who worked as an aedile in a city full of dark elves that would rather sacrifice her to their bloodthirsty goddess than do business with her, would probably forever remain clueless about the feelings that she had caused in Olvann. Despite the city she lived in and the people around her, she was a gentle, somewhat naïve woman that had almost enjoyed the brief meeting with him. That her behaviour had made him hate her, that he despised her and felt dirty because of her was something she would probably never understand. Such emotions were completely alien to her.

The men that guarded the Vertex didn’t cast a second glance at him. He passed them without any problems. It wasn’t so uncommon that a man descended into Har’oloth to look for a whore – or even violence. The vysstichi had less problems with such things than the humans on the surface – although there were places where such needs could be met there as well. Red eyed, black skinned vysstichi and pale Esh’lahier passed him by. Some of them were likely having similar thoughts about other people. In his way of thinking he was not unlike them.

The Temple of Carnal Love could be found deep within the confines of the underground city. It stood out among the other buildings, even from far away for it was made of pale pink marble that shimmered in the relative darkness of the caverns. The parts on the outside were dedicated to the lighter aspects of the goddess, to massages and baths, to pleasure while the true worship, the violence and the sacrifices took place in hidden chambers, unknown to but a few. Ocasionally Olvann could see a man or a woman entering or leaving the temple. Even the Matrons of Har’oloth came there to worship regularly, although whether one of them was present now was questionable.

Two guards, male vysstichi in black leather armour, stood left and right of the entrance, watching those that entered, but rarely interfering.

[Olvann Coia]

The confines of the city seemed to push in on him, pursuing him as he fled deeper and deeper into the underground labyrinth of the Vysstichi. He felt his body pumping with an almost hysterical insistence. It was an addiction he had yet to fulfill, clawing at him since he was a child, urging him to find the blood of her. Of the whore. He would taste their sudden and excruciating pain, and he would yearn for more. He knew that this night would be his first night alone with a woman. He knew as well, that once it began. It would never stop. Only Aslan himself could intrude on his desires, only his guidance had kept his urges suppressed for this long. Aslan would witness his acts tonight, and Aslan would know that Olvann did his bidding. Of that he was sure.

It was then that the pulsing vein shone through the gloom; echoed, yearned, called to him with such gruesome insistence that he could not resist its gawking call. He knew what this was. This was the Temple of Carnal Love, the bath house. He stood before it, clad in his humble woolen cloak, hiding all that writhed inside him. Why did he feel its pull so strongly, why did it enticingly suggest his entrance. He stopped before it.

His breath came in deep pulls, his strong body still pounding with the intensity of the forced dash. He body did not tremble, did not ache and took only moments to recover. His superb fitness marked him as an athlete. As had he needed to be to follow his mother's kin in the high altitudes. But that was a past he had left behind. His road had just begun.

He stood outside the temple, appraising it with the same carnal thirst he had felt since entering the breach into the Umblat. However, he did not feel the sense of urgency any longer and did not realize that he wasted time. All he knew was that his insatiated hunger still restlessly demanded a feast and here was the temple. He considered the two darkly clad guards standing out front of the temple and remained rooted to the spot, appraising the pulsating stone surrounding him.

[Kalinda]

The two guards looked at Olvann as he looked at them, but they did not approach him nor did they say anything to him. They remained firmly rooted in their spots next to the entrance, only occasionally interacting with those that entered. It was not their business to question a lone human that stared at the temple as if he had never been there before. Even if he decided to enter, they would not pay more attention to him than to anybody else. Humans were a common sight in the bath house nowadays, and they came for the most unusual of reasons.

“Move out of the way!” he could suddenly hear a female voice behind him. The words were directed at all the other people that were near the temple. He could hear a couple of murmurs, but they obiously moved aside without protest. If he turned his head, he would see them: Three vysstichi, all female and clad in green and black uniforms were walking in his direction – or rather in the direction of the temple of Carnal Love. A third woman followed about two metres behind them. She did not wear a uniform. Instead she wore a dress of red and black that left little to the imagination. Her hair was done in an elaborate hairstyle and decorated with countless silver perls. Three more uniformed guards followed behind her.

The woman – obviously of noble descent, for who else would hold her head that high and display such an amount of arrogance? – cast a single glance at Olvann, frowned and turned away. “The Fourth daughter of House Chaos Dawn wishes to pay her respects to the goddess”, one of the guards announced, and the guards bowed their heads and gestured for the lady and her entourage to enter the temple.

[Olvann Coia]

Olvann's observation of the guards had not gone beyond the initial inspection of their darkly clad forms. His attention remained focused on the stone architecture of the temple. He still felt its tempting call, seductively reaching for something deep within him. He felt himself pulled forward suddenly and his steps came almost involuntarily. Thought was overruled by instinct, a carnal sense of need overwhelmed his senses, submerging him like a black hand into it's depths, pushing him forward. A sudden call broke his trance. The strangled noise seem to be almost otherworldly at first, but he soon came to realize that in the depth of his thoughts had been so consuming that he had released any material grasp to the present. The call was almost blasphemous here.

He had learnt many things during his time here among the black elves and had come to understand the hierarchy of their culture. He recognized the entourage immediately as that of a noble. He was a lowly human to this woman... That brought a small resolute smirk to his face. It mattered little. The woman glanced at him, her brow folding into frown. It was impossible to read what she was thinking. Nonetheless, he was spellbound by her arrival and watched with mounting interest. What would a noble be doing here?

Just as quickly as the thought came, it was answered. She was here to pray. To her goddess? Then the healer knew where he was. He was standing before a temple of Haya. The goddess of disease. The goddess of infertility. The goddess of lust. His face remained unchanged and a sense of relief filled his body. Finally, he understood why he’d been drawn here, she had called, or perhaps he had simply stumbled here coincidently. Momentarily he considered why he wasn't disgusted by even being here. But, the thought was swiftly swept away for more immediate happenings. He assured himself his interest in this place was solely for the sake of knowledge. The throbbing sensation that had drawn him down here in the first place had dissipated slightly, as if his mere presence here had brought him closer to his goal...

He waited for her to pass. Then he followed.

[Kalinda]

It was a temple of Haya, but it soon became obvious that it was different from most other temples of Haya. The first impression that the healer would get was that of a gigantic bath house. The floor he walked on was paved with expensive red and white tiles that had been polished until they shone. Marble columns lined the walls. The air was warm and filled with moisture. Men in black uniforms stood at every door, watching the visitors closely. Sometimes things got a little out of hand here, and it was up to them to prevent major accidents.

The first room that he entered contained a large pool. Men and women, most of them vysstichi and at least half naked were sitting on the stairs that led into the pool, taking a swim or sharing a bottle of wine. There was a large platform in the middle of the pool. The statue of a naked woman of impossible beauty stood on it. That woman was Haya, the Goddess of Lust and Infertility and the Plague Queen. Two priestesses, dressed in red and black robes sat under the statue. One of them was obviously occupied with a male dark elf while the other one sipped from a glass of red wine.

The noblewoman, the Fourth Daughter of House Chaos Dawn, passed the pool by without taking a second look at it, as if she was used to all this nakedness, as if it bored her slightly. Her guards followed her closely. “The Fourth Daughter of Chaos Dawn wishes to worship Haya and make a sacrifice in one of the private prayer chambers and requests a man to be summoned for that purpose”, a guard told the priestess that stood in front of the door. “I assume you can accommodate her?” The noblewoman just stood there and smiled. Jaedaxia seemed a warm place compared to that cold, arrogant little smile.

Meanwhile one of the priestesses, a rather young one with waist length silver hair and large red eyes approached Olvann. Her dress was floor length and revealed her back as well as the upper part of her chest. Her movements were graceful and fluid. “Are you here to worship the goddess?” she asked. “Are you looking for a massage – or are you interested in the more intimate aspects of our faith?” For one that was familiar with the Hayan faith this here would seem strange. The Hayan religion was a violent one, but this here looked like a cross between a bath house and an expensive brothel and not like something that was illegal and dangerous.

[Olvann Coia]

Breathing easier with each step, he followed the swaying form of nobility. Was this place simply distraction enough to satiate his lust? Or was he here for a purpose, had something brought him in hunger to this place? Fourth house. He thought passively, a station of quite some power. Being a noble, and female at that, the Vysstichi was likely trained in the mystic or necromantic arts deftly wielded by her abominable race. Olvann had come to hold no love for the race of the black elves, but understood their culture and respected their dark and cruel interpretation of the world. He respected it out of necessity, it was easy to find yourself with dagger in your back down here for a simple display of disrespect, especially to a noble.

Her entourage mirrored her movements with an iron flank, unyielding in their loyalty to her wellbeing. She was a daughter to the matron of the fourth house, a position of so high regard and imposing horror that none would dare lay a hand on her within the temple of Haya or within Har'oloth for that matter. Many servants of Aslan would die just to launch a strike at her. And they would die he realized precariously, looking at her escort. If the noble was touched, likely everyone in her entourage would be killed for the dishonor of it, they would fight to the death. Unless of course, it was the will of a higher house. But rarely did another house plainly attack another. If there was a single survivor of nobility in Vysstichi house to lay the blame of treachery on another house, the harsh facade of Vysstichi 'justice' would be switfly enacted on the attacking household. This was the hierarchy of the Vysstichi, the most wretched race to plague Telath. In many parts of the Empire a Vysstichi would be killed on sight, if a Vysstichi of such high standing was discovered, they would be hunted. They were a symbol of evil to the upper races. Fortunately, for the surface, the Vysstichi enjoyed the darkness of their caves, relying primarily on the infrared spectrum to perceive their surroundings. It pained them to look upon the light of men. Faerie fire was their primary source of light, that and the warm churning of the earths underground currents. If the Vysstichi had no qualms about the surface light, he had no doubt they would have conquered it long ago. They were adapted to the treachery of the blackness and they were always prepared. The weak died here.

He was a servant of Aslan. He was also a hesitant man, intelligent and not foolhardy; he understood the concept of striking when appropriate. He weighted every situation to the brink of narcissism. It was a trait he had picked up down amongst the subterranean culture, or so he told himself. He had no one left in the world except himself, and none whom would presume more than to steal his every coin he possessed in an act of friendship. It was a harsh reality. Olvann had only himself to tend for, only himself to move forward with, only himself to reach further on into the pursuit of knowledge and power, only himself to trust. Aslan had been the deity of choice when experiencing his first breath into the sixth sense of arcane, Aslan gave him his holy power, the ability to heal. Aslan was also the diety that his dead father had worshipped as a holy cleric. Aslan’s rule was a swift reminder of how bone jarringly every nerve he possessed screamed with protest against his very presence here. He didn’t care. His path had led him here, his hand had finally been forced to thirst. To bathe in the pain he had hoped, waited and secretly kept deep within himself for so, very, very long.

He walked by the steamy morass of heathen whores. His mind writhed with the opportunity to cut into them. He held himself in check… Still there was more waiting. He knew his path was here. Then, he understood. Finality of the thought nearly brought him to tears. He stood where he was, waiting. He had been bidden here by Aslan-Immanuel himself. He was the holy hand of judgment, sent to clear the evil whores from this plane. His bloody enactment was the will of his deity. The reason for his thirst was at the will of the Aetheria. Or so he thought… Then, as his mind cleared and he understood his appointed task, Aetheria blessed him with a guide. The noble was here for a sacrifice, she would indeed lead him to the blood his wished for. He returned to his chosen path, following the noble and her entourage.

He barely heard the priestess’ question as he plodded silently past her, so focused on his goal. If the priestess wielded the mystic arcane, indeed she would see the dark bloody images painted on his mind, so vivid were his thoughts, they seem to permeate the air with their carnal thirst…

[Kalinda]

The priestess frowned as the human moved past her, but she did not stop him nor did she repeated her question. She simply looked to the older priestess who had talked to the noblewoman earlier. “Maybe he could …?” she wondered. She did not finish the question as if she expected her colleague to read her mind. “No, the lady requests a man of pure blood, a child of darkness. Get one of the slaves, but a young, good looking one with perfect manners. We want a woman of such power to be happy. And get a virigin for her as well. Two sacrifices are better than one, and women are more valuable than men …”

“But it seems as if he …” the younger priestess began, and her colleague laughed. “Following her, sister? Let the lowly human watch the sacrifice. Let him be scared. Let him regret the brightening he set foot into Har’oloth! Come, sister, we have to get the sacrifices ready. They have to be cleaned and put into proper clothes. They have to look perfect! I want them to know that this is going to be the most important brightening of their lives!” The younger priestess nodded, and the two vysstichi women turned around and disappeared into a hallway to get those slaves they had been talking about.

The daughter of House Chaos Dawn and her guards moved through the temple, on and on. The hallways seemed to go on forever. They were walking down a couple of stairs, into the underground, into another part of the temple. There were doors to the left and to the right now. One of the guards opened one, and the lady and her entourage entered. The room behind was round, with another door at the back. The floor was covered with jade tiles. Statues lined the walls. There was not much in the ways of furniture, apart from a stone in the middle of the room and a table. Knives in all sizes and shapes were lying on the table.

[Olvann Coia]

Olvann ignorantly plodded after the noble, blissfully unaware of the priestesses' conversation. Fear, however, was simply not in the mind of the healer.

The healer. Indeed that mantle fitted him well, he'd cured injuries, healed the sickly, tended to women in labor, he'd done all these things, yet, his hunger was not satiated. No thoughts of healing dwelled in his mind amongst the morass of heathen black kindred lining the halls of this palace of sin. He was a disciple of Aslan, his fist would be submerged in the blood of his enemies. His father had been so blindly mistaken in his worship. Aslan had led him here. Aslan wished his hands to cut into the ranks of these tainted underlings. He had finally found the clarity to understanding the will of his God. He would not disappoint.

He continued to tread behind the noble entourage, confident that his will was being guided by a higher power. His goal was clear, this darkening, he would fulfill the bloody wishes of his noble deity. He would smite the unholy wretches inhabiting this place of sin. The seemingly unending hallways, a myriad of identical spectacles finally changed form and Olvann found himself following the troupe down stairs into a seemingly different level of the complex. Two doors lined this hallway and Olvann watched as the group entered one of the doors. He followed them in, only to find himself within a room of entirely different scenery, a multitude of jade tiles decorated the floor and ornamental statues lined nooks in the wall. A door sat at the back of the room and Olvann quickly noted the various wicked small weapons on a table in the center of the room.

Finally he understood what he had been following this noble for. They were here for a sacrifice. Then, he looked upon the noble an smiled. Indeed they would receive a sacrifice this darkening. He waited patiently for the scene before him to unfold. No words breached his lips, no emotion remained on his face. He was a subtle presence in the room. A presence, if closely examined, of brutal strength and agility. Aslan, would seemingly accept nothing less than the sacrifice of a symbol of the dark goddesses’ evil.

He slid off to the wall, and kept his eyes pinned on the table filled with weapons. He was calm. He finally knew his course. He began the art of meditation and drew himself back to the quiet dell that he had grown up in as a boy. It came easily to him now, practiced as an initiate had brought him to level of understanding where he could easily advance to the next level of his thaumaturgy training, but as of yet, it still took time.

[Kalinda]

The guards of the lady gathered around the stone in the middle of the room. They put their weapons on the floor and knelt down. Their eyes were closed, as if they were sleeping or meditating, as if they had a private conversation with their goddess. The lady herself approached the altar and stepped on it. She sat down on it – no, she almost lay down on it and looked at the women that were with her expectantly. One of them nodded and rose to her feet again. She walked over to the table and took a few of the knives. She knelt down and presented them to her mistress. The young noblewoman looked at them for a moment and frowned, but then she picked a knife, a long, silver knife with an ebony handle. Her fingers ran across the silver surface lovingly. It was so sharp that it draw blood. The woman did not mind that at all. On the contrary – she smiled. With a brief movement of her hand she signalled the guard to take the other knives away and assume her position to the side of the altar again. The guard complied.

It was then that the back door was opened. Three male vysstichi, servants of the temple, dressed in black and red just like the priestesses entered. They had two prisoners with them: The first was a young man of not more than eighty patterns with white hair that came down to his waist. His eyes were a pure silver, a color that was rare among the children of Haya. His body was perfect. There was not a single scar, not a single imperfection. He did not have the ageless look that so many older elves possessed yet. He was young, and it was showing – but he already had the grace that was common among his kind. They had dressed him in a simple black robe, but his feet had been left bare. His hands were tied with a heavy chain, a safety measure in case he decided to try and escape. He looked completely calm and composed, as if he had expected that this would happen all along, as if he almost considered it an honor. And the servants? They did not seem to care at all that one of their kind would die.

The second prisoner was a human girl of about sixteen, dark eyed and black haired like most of the Vortexians. She was slender, almost to the point of looking thin and undernourished, but apart from that she looked perfect. Her skin was white, almost like snow. She had been dressed in a red robe that stood in contrast to the man’s black one. She was not calm at all. Olvann could hear her screams. “No ... please ... don’t ... I’ll be a good slave ... I’ll never do this again ...” She stared at the woman that was sitting in the middle of the room wide eyed. The daughter of House Chaos Dawn just smiled at her. The young woman turned around, she was about to run, but the chains kept her from making more than one or two steps, and in the end the servant that held her chain just pulled her closer again.

“I want the man first”, the lady decided, and the servant pushed him towards her. “He will be a fitting sacrifice for the goddess. Watch the girl in the meantime, and make sure she doesn’t scream and disturb the ceremony. Haya would not be pleased at all!” Olvann in the meantime remained undisturbed. The many people in the room had not detected him yet – or they just didn’t care that he was there.

[Olvann Coia]

Olvann was very aware of the fact that he was being purposefully ignored. He was not a dunce of a man and had intrinsically deducted that he was one of two things; either an apparently unobtrusive unremarkable observer, unworthy of even the briefest recognition, or, he was being heavily monitored and was here for a different purpose. The Hayan's were an odd lot, and more so, Haya, was a very interesting goddess. They would do pretty much anything they could to please her. If that included lust, pain and sick demeaning acts of sadism, then it was free game.

Perhaps he was part of that game.

Realistically, these were all thoughts that had casually meandered through the turmoil of Olvann's mind as he had followed the harem of guards dedicated fully to their noble fare. The room had cleared and he gazed upon the brutal spectacle before him with a sixth sense, he had taken the time to meditate and was now fully entranced, an easily accomplished task with no distraction. He entered clara and watched as the room danced with ara, swirling about in delicate waves and blissfully bypassing the ignorantly bound souls within the room. Each individual radiated an aura of vis and Olvann took the opportunity to appraise each being, casting a critical eye on their internal reserves. This was an easy way to determine if and which people exhibited arcane ability. Every single individual below and above the surface of Telath had an internal reserve of vis. Those trained in a sphere of arcana generally had expanded that reserve and were easily, if carefully observed, singled out above the level of initiate. Olvann was perhaps blessed in the fact that he was an initiate and had consequently approximately the same reserves as a bound individual. Again, he proved to be outwardly unremarkable.

He began the gentle mixture of vis and ara, shaping them into the unsteady and remarkable form of mana. With the arcane material swirling before him on the astral plane, he began to form the mana into a spell he had become quite familiar with; Nimbility. The spell was released onto the physical plane; infusing life into his muscles, sinew, joints and bone. The healer casually accelerated the nerve impulses that would offer him better reaction time, instinctual movement, speed and overall agility. This entire process, once clara was reached, was but a lapse in unmoving time, completed in the void of timelessness, and completed instantaneously. Still outwardly unremarkable.

Olvann had become more physically acquainted with his body and its limits than most human's reached during the span of their comparatively short life. His blind prowess was relatively unmatched prior to his training, compared to any he had met with similar experience and time within the mortal coil. He had met his training with a thirst, improving those limits and now finding himself distinctly aware of his physical aptitude. He would be nothing like anything seen on the face of Telath. He was comparatively small to most of his race, reaching barely to the height of an elf and equally as slender. However, it would be foolish to describe him as weak, he was a controlled spectacle of strength, eluding to far more than what met the eye. But that was not his most distinguishing attribute, his sheer agility; quick, precise and controlled was marveling. He became more attune with his body everyday. He was ignorantly becoming a weapon. Ignorance was not casually thrown in amongst his set of taciturn mental traits. He was ignorant of this brutal ability because of his mindful healing nature.

No such nature was displayed now. He was very directly avoiding frothing at this display. The screaming whore who would meet her fate shortly enthralled the human, he simply could not help but display a carnal grin at her vain folly. Aslan's will could be quelled for the moment, he could observe, could he not? They would all see their mistress dead shortly anyway, the boy was a Hayan, easily dismissed. Aslan would brazenly smash and cut his will into the noble who seemingly betrayed the will of Haya to the human onlooker. He wondered if this putridly small sacrifice would truly satisfy the lust of such a dark goddess. Olvann couldn't see how it could.

The release of the spell had brought him the familiar aching void of what had been clara only moments prior. He quickly dispelled the sensation, easily being able to cast two more alike spells before it affected him mentally or physically. He waited still for the ceremony to get underway, then, he could commit a different and unquestionably holy ceremony within this hole of sin.

[Kalinda]

Clara came to him easily. It just took a while. Only archmages or those who possessed a magic staff could attain the state of calm that was necessary to interact with the arcane instantly, and he had not reached the highest rank yet nor was he in the possession of such a powerful item. The spell was cast. In the meantime the servants had brought the young dark elven man to the altar where the lady of House Chaos Dawn welcomed him. “Go. I don’t have need of you anymore.” She waved a slender, black hand, and the servants left the chamber. The slave and soon to be sacrifice for the Goddess of Lust looked at her from big red eyes. His face was completely calm. Only the slight trembling of his body revealed that he was not without emotion. The lady laughed at him. It was a beautiful, musical laughter, almost innocent, the laughter of a girl who’d just received a new toy.

“This brightening”, she said and beckoned him to sit at her side. She let her fingers run across his cheek. “This brightening you will become one with the goddess. There is no greater honor for a man like you. You are an animal, without a name, without a House to protect you, without a Matron, a mother or a sister to speak for you, but this brightening you will be somebody. This brightening you will be House Chaos Dawn’s greatest treasure. You will be sent to Haya to talk to her, and our House will regain her favour so that we will rule Har’oloth. You understand what kind of gift I’m giving you, don’t you?” She abruptly let go of him again. He gave no sign of understanding her. He just sat there and looked at her, like a beautiful statue made of black marble.

One of the lady’s companions removed the chain around the slave’s wrist, and then the guards started chanting while the lady took her knife and let it run across the man’s left cheek. Blood immediately began to flow. She did the same with the right cheek, and then she turned to his chest. She was touching him with her blade, caressing him with her blade, not really hurting him yet, just playing. The pain would come a bit later. For now she wanted to enjoy the smoothness of his skin and the firmness of his body. For a moment she froze – as if she had noticed Olvann or his spell – but then she turned around again. Maybe he was being ignored – on purpose. The other slave, the girl, had stopped screaming and just stared at the scene that was unfolding in front of her. Her eyes were wide. She was clearly shocked and scared, and yet she found herself unable to turn away. She had never seen anything like that before.

Olvann’s plan to kill the lady was a noble one – at least in some way – but she had companions, and she was was not helpless even though she lacked the proficiency in the arcane arts that the older members of her House possessed. But there was more than enough time to take a closer look at the situation and decide what he would do and how he would do it. The ceremony would apparently take a while. The daughter of House Chaos Dawn liked toying with her victims before she killed them.