Silvestre Pendragon

The puppeteer

Creasing her eyebrows in confusion, Silvestre was confronted by the magnificent image of death herself: the menacing raven that had left only ash in her wake as she had continued to reek havoc with simply her repugnant presence and yet Silvestre was shocked by her majestic appearance, so opposing to her decrepit and torturous imaginings,  Noirsk looked...Young...  

Skin so pale, it looked as though it was permanently glistening with moonlight, and her cheeks so sunken and hollow that even the cutting edges of her jaw looked bitter with hatred. Everything about her was sharp, bold and maliciously dignified from her bloody lips to the jewelled talons which adorned her fingertips. Her long hair shimmered down her back like an oil spill as she folded back the velvet hood and smirked at Silvestre and Milo.

"I got bored of waiting for you. I decided I'd make things a little easier by getting the ruby and killing you quicker." She snarled callously. 

Immediately, Silvestre's sword was raised.

"Ah, Little Pendragon, so.. courageous." Noirsk cocked her head, examining Silvestre "Of course, you're wondering how I look so young when your pathetic father Alfred knew me as a child" Just hearing her fathers name startled Silvestre, and then the reality of her situation set in... "You really are just an impulsive child aren't you? You really don't have any plan? God, this will  be easier than I suspected."

Silvestre's hand was quivering and any of her previous confidence had diffused into the surrounding smoke, 

"How-" 

"How do I read your mind? Dark magic, Little Pendragon but don't let that suggest that my powers aren't at my complete command" Flicking her wrist, she sent a crippling wave of agony that splintered Silvestre's heart and forced her to the ground. Dropping her sword, Silvestre gasped for air, Milo instantly at her side,

"Stop this!" but Noirsk sniggered at the two children and twisted a tearing ribbon of suffering around Silvestre. Tears streamed from her hopeless eyes as she screamed.

"Why should I Elgido? You don't need her. You just want your dear sister." 

"Please, please stop! You're going to kill her!" Milo begged, he pleaded and Silvestre's consciousness was a blurry dream, fading from reality, consumed by the excruciating pain. "You can't kill her!"

"Choose." 

"What?" for a joyous moment Noirsk's painful grasp on Silvestre relinquished but Milo was staring into the cold-hearted black eyes and Noirsk's venomous smile.

"Choose. Little Pendragon or your darling fortune teller sister."

Noirsk's grip on Silvestre tightened, 

"Milo... your sister needs you." Silvestre choked. 

"Sil.. I.. I'm so sorry but..." 

Salty rivers rained from their eyes.

Suddenly, with a knowing laugh Noirsk clapped, 

"Wonderful! Bravo! How utterly emotional, rather predictable but still extremely entertaining." 

"What are you talking about?" Milo questioned through gritted teeth, his despise for her growing with every word that swam from her poisonous lips. 

"No-one's dying just yet but its always fun to watch and now Little Pendragon will spend the rest of her life wishing I had killed her here..."

The final thing Milo and Silvestre saw was Noirsk's wicked smirk before they fell into a deep sleep, plagued by tormenting dreams and distant memories.