Cheers and horns followed her out of the towering village of Ernor and, after glancing one last time at home, faded as she wandered deeper into the forest, falling deeper into the mental game of the hunter. She quietly stepped through the forest, picking and choosing her steps as she let her sensitive ears guide her through the towering trees that have stood for a millenia. Even as minutes spun into hours, she knew exactly where she was going but something was amiss. She scanned the trees around her, listening intently for a whisper or a breath to give some clue to this feeling, however nothing gave way. She slowly drew her bow, inching deeper into the silence but, suddenly, a snap of a twig to her right was answered with a sniper-like arrow and a throaty screech. She instinctively rolled towards the noise, a makeshift spear thrown overhead through the bushes and stuck to the thick trunk of a tree behind her. She swapped her bow for her blade, bearing a rune for enchantments of attuned dexterity in the heat of battle, and burst through, parrying a heavy blade of a scimitar. She spotted two more humanoid figures ready to strike as she kicked back the charging figure, staggering him as she went in for the kill. She threw across her sword, tossing the sword out of it’s hands and followed followed with a slash down from head to toe, dropping the foul beast where it stood. She ducked, her sword, swinging low as the blade sliced through tough calf muscles, brought the beast to the ground as it howled in pain but it was short lived as the elf’s blade slid through its throat. The last beast, towering over her, was plated in thick steel, unlike its companions, and wielded a monstrous, double-bladed war-axe that radiated demonic power and fear into her heart. As she started towards the beast, the monster took a full stride ahead and swung its axe wide, whistling through the air like a heat-seeking arrow aiming towards the heart. She knelt and leapt over the axe, the air below her bursting with energy as she swung her sword towards the beast’s neck, slicing through its thick skin as it spewed a black fountain of blood.

She landed behind the beast, taking a moment to breathe, and examined one of them closer, realizing what was at play: It was a trio of orcs. She took a step back, letting her mind process and grabbed the large, lumbering orc’s helmet and took off through the bush again. She pounded her feet into the ground as she barreled past trees and small forest critters until, at a familiar hilltop, she skidded to a stop. She looked at the terror before her: the town that she knew as home was engulfed in flames and she was too late to stop them. She quickly stepped down the hill, sprinting down the path past the bodies of her friends and comrades until she arrived at the hall again. She walked inside, sword drawn, and tripped on something and fell face-first into a soft object but, after looking up, noted that it was no object, for it was Taulmaril. His light blue eyes were still open and, even with lines of blood still flowing down his face, he still wore the natural smile he could not erase. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she closed his own, gently easing his eyelids closed so that he could die peacefully, and eased herself up off his body, struggling to stand straight. As she was about to leave, she scanned the room once more and, after a moment of staring, leapt over the sea of lifeless bodies. She shoved bodies of her friends from the pile, looking for the silken robe she hand-knitted for Luka until she found it. Her eyes looked around and, after minutes of searching, gave up as she gently bowed her head before her beheaded son. She held the headless body of her son close to her, weeping loudly in mourning as smoke crept into the hall like a cloud of death. After a moment, she eased her son down, stepping past the throne once more, the bright wood now covered in splatters of blood. She stepped outside and stared at the heavy footprints in a disorganized mess, following behind as she felt her heart burn into an insatiable ember. She felt a grin creep upon her face, her mind playing the death to those responsible on repeat over and over again until it felt benign to her. She stared hard into the forest, drawing her sword and felt the world go dark around her as she disappeared into the dread-filled forest.

The night poured over her as she followed the path almost instinctively, creeping through the forest in silence as she felt the tears dry off her cheeks. Her ears picked up every rustle of a leaf or the skittering of a creature in the darkness that feared the grim aura she projected out of her. She chuckled at the thought of death, seeing that her life was stolen away by the people that burned her world to ashes and killed the ones she loved. As hours crept by, she caught sight of a faint orange glow and grinned as she slithered through the forest and peered over the bushes. A band of seven orcs slept, easily justified by the raucous of snores that bellowed into the forest, but what they had marked themselves as dead: inside a sack, a familiar head of hair flickered in the light. She felt her blood boil over but, in attempt to leave the leader alone, she crept from one orc to another and slit their throats without a whisper or a groan. As she slit the last throat, she looked upon the leader and stared for a silent moment until she drew out her sword and, in a heavy cleaver-like slice, decapitated the leader without a noise. She looked at the carnage she left around her and tossed her sword aside, feeling her heart turn to stone as she stepped away.

“Axil? Axil, are you alright?”, a small hand pushed against her arm, shaking her abruptly from her nightmare. She looked down at the tiefling, glaring hard at the now terrified, horned creature as if he was on the chopping block.

“What do you need, Macaar?”, she started, wiping the haze from her eyes as she crawled out of her cot. The air in the small room was cold, the diamond-shaped window cracked open to let the breeze flow in throughout the night. Macaar quietly backed his way towards the door, avoiding her range of attack, and eased the door open.

“Clous and the rest of the group are almost ready to go,” he squeaked, closed the door and scurried down the hallway towards the main room. Axil’s gaze fell upon her bow, reminding her of how far she had come and conquered beasts and magic along with her allies. She smiled faintly and eased the door open again, looking forward to whatever came ahead. As she closed the door, a sense of calm flowed through her, looking down the hallway to see mere emptiness and descended to friends and allies’ aid.