One war. Two Sisters. One end.
There is no running from it. Fate shall have its way as both daughters of Stormband take to the field of battle. Each with one goal - vengeance.
Approximately 130k words.
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Sometimes those who failed in life, succeed in death.
A wise saying (unattributed)
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"Get down!"
Exactly who among them barked those orders was lost to Sheala. She would have complied with the command sooner, had her spooked mount cooperated. As it were, she was more than consumed with trying to tie off the terror-riddled gelding that wanted nothing more than to bolt off through the trees in terror.
As if the constant pulling and panicked whines from the horse were not enough of a distraction, the medallion given to Sheala by her father years before was causing quite a stir. Normally quite and cold, it was now like a burning ember under her armor and vibrating with an agitated buzzing.
If the enchanted trinket believed she needed further assurances danger was upon them, it was wrong.
During their stay at Mours Towers, Sheala had begun to sense a long dormant and soothing warmth return. The sensation had been distant, like a faint echo of a dream, but she recognized it immediately. Even after all these years.
However, what the medallion was doing in this instance, was nothing at all like when her sister was nearby. The heat it currently exuded was not reassuring, but rather hard and firm. It had started slowly at first when they had caught sight of the black form hurtling towards them on the road east.
They had spotted it coming up behind them on undulating wings just before entering the fringes of the Eastern Woods. Its appearance made the group's pace hasten to a full gallop in order to reach cover before it caught up to them. And they hadn't stopped for quite some time after reaching the safety of the trees.
Now the medallion was raging like thunder in a storm.
Overhead, whatever was in the sky circled; a black scar upon the blueness.
"Anyone get a good look at that thing?" Anthony's hushed whisper was unnecessary, but more habitual in nature. The trait of the experienced thief and assassin he was. It wasn't as though speaking in such tones was keeping them from being discovered.
