Arman sighs as he sets down the quill the elves gave him.
"Aaravos, you swear this letter will get to my sister?"
Aaravos takes the quill and ink-careful to not spill on the letter- and nods.
"I swear on Onaj Koji Hrani that this letter will reach your sister, and that you will be notified if she responds."
Arman relaxes. It was a weight off his chest to know that his sister would know what had happened to him if he died. He could not bear the thought of her living without knowing that if he died, it was to protect her.
He looks at the elf. He had recovered beautifully from whatever ailment had befallen him outside the pure room. Lamarin had carried the elf to their med bay, where he had stayed to recover.
Now, though, he still looked pale, his eyes surrounded by shadows. "We protect the families of the Pure. Always."
Arman merely nods, too tired to say anything. Aaravos leaves the room, seeing the wear of the day on Armans face, making him look older.
"Sleep Arman. Tomorrow is another day." With that, he leaves, letter in hand. As Aaravos heads down the hall, pondering what had happened in the pure room.
But then the wall explodes.
Aaravos jumps back to avoid the flying debris, as a Gorgon steps through.
"Aaravos. It has been a long time since you have last dispatched one of my kind? A decade? A century? I have forgotten."
Aaravos steps back. "Gorgono smrti, napusti ovo mjesto!"
The Gorgon merely laughs.
"The Shadow King has deemed it necessary to give me the power of Egida. Your spells cannot harm me."
"Well then." Aaravos throws the letter, and the gorgon catches it.
"A letter? Really Aaravos, I think you've lost it!"
Aaravos merely grins. "Isporučite pismo u ruci gorgona Emily Aguirre!"
With a bang, the letter disappears, blowing the Gorgons hand apart. The Gorgon screams, but is cut off as a sickle buries itself in her chest, black blood spraying from her chest.
"How many more of you are there?" Aaravos demands, stalking up to the Gorgon with his other sickle in his hand.
The Gorgon laughs. "Listen you fool." She lets out one last gurgling cackle, blood spraying from her mouth, coating Aaravos' chest, and slides to the floor, dead.
Aaravos pulls the sickle out of the Gorgon, and stops, his heart filling with dread.
And his nose filled with the smell of smoke.
YOU ARE READING
Battle of the Pure
FantasyThis follows the tale of a man named Arman. Born in the small village of Hampton, Arman follows a man to the woods, and finds a secret world. And that world is at war. As Arman tries to unravel the great power he has found within himself, he finds t...
