The Isle of Dread

Mira backed into the wall, almost tripping over one of the jars that had been knocked down in the fight. She waggled her assailant’s dagger at him. Her breath was rapid, unsteady. “St-stay back!”

The elf moved closer, carefully reaching out and attempting to grab the blade back. He was bigger than most elves. Bulkier. “Easy, girlie…”

His companion kept her own blade at the ready, clearly satisfied with the situation. “You told me this was going to be easy, K-” She stopped herself as she began to utter her companion’s name.

“Calm down, Arumen. It’s almost over.”

Arumen spat her words at him. “Fucking hell! Could you not use my real name?”

‘K’ laughed and turned to face Arumen. “Calm d-”

Mira pushed the blade forwards, sliding the tip between the gaps in the elf’s rib cage. It was surprising how little resistance cloth and flesh presented to steel. She stared wordlessly, horrified as the blade continued to push through the elf’s lungs, clipping through the heart on it path through to the other side of him. Blood covered everything. It spurted out of him as he looked down and tried to say something. “Gugh…”

Mira released the grip of the blade and stepped back as the elf fell. He reached for the hilt as he sunk to the ground, feebly to remove it as shock overwhelmed him.

“Kalathel?” Arumen stared as her friend collapsed. The twilight was silent for a time. Eventually, the elf turned to face the terrified human. Her voice seethed. Arumen stepped forwards, pointing her blade towards the human.

“You. Little. Shit.”

Mira’s eyes remained fixed on the dead elf as blood slowly pooled around him. She felt something warm in her gut, and looked down to see the elf’s blade in her belly. Blood slowly flowed. Mira looked up, blankly meeting the elf’s furious gaze.

The elf suddenly snapped her head to the left and cursed. Yanking the blade out, she vanished into the growing night. Mira’s vision faded as a figure dressed in an orange robe turned the corner.

Kyras continued his lecture on ethics, reiterating his key point: Always choose good over law. The longsword on the shelf nearby glowed approvingly. The monk smiled at the sword’s contribution. His expression saddened as he noticed Mira’s expression.

Her wounds had healed nicely. Physically, she was probably better off now than she’d ever been. A paladin flooding your body with positive energy everyday for two years would have that effect. But the mental scars…

He moved forwards and wrapped her arms around her. He patted her back, letting healing energies flow into her as he hugged her. “You’re remembering the night we met again, aren’t you?” She nodded, and he nodded in response. “It gets easier, I promise. It never gets easy-” The sword glowed in agreement. “But it gets easier.”


DustinGebhardt Deudanann

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