Her Sin Was Pride

XV

"Ever waiting, ever serving, your service hung upon your neck"

Acquiring bones had turned out to be easier than expected given she was greeted by shades of not just the Lord of Chaos but also the Hungering One and the Lord of Famine mere seconds after she set hoof in Darkwood. She felt her agitation for the Crown return in a singular, sharp spark of agitation at the knowledge that it was the theft of devotion that had properly alerted The Worm to her presence within his realm. The only saving grace within this situation was that it seemed the bishops were not inclined to bother the old bishop of war. As it was, the black lamb had to make liberal use of her growing skill in curses to deal with the onslaught of noble followers that the Worm set upon her. Crawlers, bats, swordmen a seemingly never-ending supply of scampes - truly, it felt like he'd set half of his army upon her.

With a roar of effort, she sank her blade into the throat of the latest cultist. He coughed and sputtered, grasping at her desperately as blood leaked from the deep cut wound in deep rivulets. Eve stared in a transfixed awe at the deep crimson - she was sure that she hadn't hit an artery of any sort, so it should be brighter in color but there it was, nearly black in its saturation.

The clasp!

Hm?

What great fortune dear lamb - look at that wretched heretic's neck.

Eve did as she was commanded, tugging down the oversized gray cloak to check. She wordlessly raised a brow, grasping at the intricately woven string around the dead heretic's neck and tugged gently. From around their neck came a blood-covered necklace, a creature's skull - some sort of bird, perhaps an eagle? - with a few fangs on either side of the creature's neck. It was heavily engraved as well, the lamb recognizing the pattern that usually indicated some sort of runic spell that only enhanced the skull's beauty topped off with paint in the colors of Darkwood's master.

What great fortune indeed! Borrower of my power, that is a gift of great honor! When a member of the cult wears it, death struggles to take them.

Eve paused - staring at the suddenly very heavy, very delicate dressage dangling lightly from her fingers.

...it makes one endless?

Nothing no grandiose - not even the wasteful worm would send one of his eternal disciples to confront you, nay it merely staves off the teeth of age.

Hmm...

Eve allowed the crown to take its form as a satchel and deposited the skull necklace alongside several hoof-fulls of gold they'd been carrying on them and had intended to begin de-boning the cultists in the area only to receive the power version of the Crimson Eye clearing its throat.

Though this heretic was not worthy of the Worm's golden skull, it was worthy of an extended life - perhaps you should make haste. There will be others.

Point taken.

Eve allowed the crown to retake its place on her head and scampered out of sight of the clearing just in time to hear the vengeful wail of a new hoard of fighter.