The Daveniri (Gxg)

Chapter Three

"MORVEN!!"

The scream ripped through the night, raw and ragged, a sound born of anguish and disbelief.

Rain lashed down, turning the earth to slick mud, mirroring the turmoil in the silver-haired girl's heart.

She scrambled to her lover, who lay sprawled on the ground, unmoving, a stark, lifeless form in the gloom.

Another failure. She had failed Morven, and in failing her lover, she had failed her family, failed the sacred bonds of blood and loyalty that held their world together.

"Darling, darling... wake up," she whispered, her voice thin and reedy, barely audible above the drumming rain.

She sank to the damp soil, gathering Morven into her arms, the weight of her lover's lifeless body a crushing burden.

"I... I'm so sorry," she choked out, the words laced with a grief so profound it threatened to consume her entirely.

"You didn't deserve this."

The rain continued its relentless assault, washing the mud and blood from Morven's face, but doing nothing to cleanse the stain of guilt that clung to her soul.

She had tried, God, how she had tried, to protect Morven, to shield her from the harsh realities of their world, a world where alliances were as fickle as the weather and betrayal lurked in every shadow.

But her efforts had been insufficient, her defenses breached.

She had failed.

A voice, cold and sharp as a winter's wind, cut through her despair.

"She did."

Her head snapped up, her eyes blazing with a fury that momentarily eclipsed her grief.

The speaker stood silhouetted against the stormy sky, a dark figure barely visible in the driving rain.

But she knew. She knew the voice, the venomous sting it carried.

It was her, her victim, a woman whose resentment had festered for years, fueled by a twisted sense of entitlement and a burning jealousy of the life the usurped receives.

She wants revenge for those who wronged her, and sell her like a broodmare and tortured her like a butchered pig.

With a guttural cry, Rhaenari launched herself at her, her fists flying, fueled by a grief so raw it bordered on madness.

"You don't know how good she was! You know yourself, I was the only one who ever showed you any madness!"

Each blow landed with the force of a betrayed heart, a desperate attempt to inflict some measure of pain on the woman who had indirectly caused Morven's death.

But she was stronger, quicker, more practiced in the brutal arts of their world. With a cold efficiency that chilled Rhaenari to the bone, she caught Rhaenari's wrists, twisting them painfully behind her back. Rhaenari struggled, but her grip was like iron.

"Then you shouldn't have done that to me, aye?" she hissed, her voice dripping with a cruel satisfaction.

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations and long-simmering resentments.

Rhaenari's struggles weakened, the fight draining out of her as the full weight of her actions crashed down upon her.

The confession escaped her lips, a whispered admission born of guilt and despair.