Woman of Sorrows-The Black-Veiled Woman

Vengeance and Justice

Chalandra sat on her great steed, dragging the cause of such pain behind her. So many days had passed now, and he felt the claws of death starting to close around him. Yet there was peace. Peace in knowing he would soon be at rest. The last few days had been the greatest torture he had ever known. She had forced him to walk, day and night, without rest, without food or water. The dizziness of dehydration was his constant companion. His captor beat him at the smallest infraction, wanting to cause him pain before he laid his head forever. Perhaps he did deserve it.

With every blow, he saw their faces. The faces of the lives he had taken. The whole town had reveled in such an event, taking turns beating them until their life was spent. Their kind had been cruel to the Dendä, the stragglers who managed to survive the war. Anytime a traveler brought a Dendä through the town, or even if a Dendä ventured in, he purchased or captured them for sport. Then, once they were freshly killed, he would char their bones. The men were often beaten or burned alive, much to the thrill of the town, but the women suffered a worse fate. Due to their perfect, unstained beauty, the men often enjoyed the company of their captive prior to her slaughter. But in the end, that was how they all ended. In screams of terror as their lives were stolen away.

Of course, all towns were not like that. Many in fact sympathized with the Dendä kind. They wanted to help them, shield them from the divides and those who hunted them. That was not Gonsern. The small town she had destroyed. That was its name, prior to its demise. The scum of the earth had all settled there, even he believed that. The cruel, the criminal. They were the ones in Gonsern. In fact, though he had once lived there, now he believed the world was better off without that drunken end of the earth. It was the town like the end of a river, where all manner of scum and slime settled. He had once made a living there, being just as vile as the rest. Now, he saw its death and destruction was a necessary evil. Perhaps, in its stead, something greater could come to the land. As for him. He deserved to die. He accepted that fact and embraced it. Death was not on his mind, not until now. However, perhaps this mysterious lady was right. Maybe he did deserve to die for his crimes.

Chalandra remained cold and stoic on her horse. Her gaze was cast away. She would not grace him with pity. She may be wrong. Perhaps she should not have slaughtered the town. It did not matter. This was her way of fulfilling her task. To keep the peace, she had to bring about war. That was the way it was for her. Through war, peace. If the lands of men were to behave vilely, she would treat them in the same manner. Whether it was right or wrong, she would spend these twenty years in solitude, fulfilling her penance before she was reunited with the man she loved.

Four days now she had dragged her miserable captive along behind her. She had not so much as given him a drink of water. Now, he grew feebly week. Blood was caked over sores all over his body. In short, he was a ghastly sight. It was time. She had torched him enough. It was time for his slaughter. That night, when she stopped her great stallion, she began to gather wood. Her captive sat, shaking with fear. He knew what this meant. She intended to end him now.

Finally, near midnight, she came for him. There was darkness in her eyes, a malice like none other. Fear passed through him, electrifying his body. He looked back at her, begging for his life without words. Yet she was too far past reason. She wanted blood. She wanted to watch him burn, and in so would satisfy her raging bloodlust. If only he had more information about the divides, the locations of their hideouts. He might then be spared. But alas, this was his end.

Without a word, without even a sound, she grabbed him by the collar of his torn shirt. A few steps she dragged him, being unable to rouse himself and walk to his death nobly. Roughly, without pity, she tossed him in the center of a large circle of wood. He quaked with fear as she began to pile the wood over his head, encasing him in a flaming tomb. In the dark, his heartbeat raging as he knew this was the end, he sat, awaiting his doom.