Di’thang cursed under his breath, his stained-black elven crossbow held at shoulder height, his eyes gazing down and regarding Evanshalee as she called up to him from the bank below. He had aimed for the bolt to kill, and yet his will had faltered at the last second. She stood now, alive as ever, blood leaking freely down her arm beneath the plates as she equipped her twin rapiers into her fists. But Di’thang had the vantage point being stood on the raised bank above her, looking down with a crossbow on his arm.

It was the only way, he told himself. Ar’thilmus would not marry him; she had rejected his proposal only moments ago. That was when Verin had showed her face. It was all her fault that Ar’thilmus did not want him now. From the day he had first kissed Verin; it was all her fault. But Di’thang was determined to finish it now. He would bury the past, and he would bury Ar’thilmus’ distrust. She would have to see that he did not love Verin if he could kill her. Then Ar’thilmus would marry him; then she would be his.

With trembling hands uncharacteristic of him, Di’thang fixed his second bolt into the weapon, slowly bringing Evanshalee, the one he had always known as Verin, into its sights. Along the aim he could see her pale face, a light gray that declared her drow roots. And he could see her eyes, burning like violet torches, and her face distorted into an expression he knew from experience could be described only as hatred. He saw the rapiers, so prized to her, in her hands as though they themselves were anticipating another kill.

Di’thang reached forward with a groan, and using a single hand he bent the bolt that he had selected for her death. The bolt would not fly now, instead remaining wedged in the crossbow; both weapon and ammunition completely disabled. The moon elf lowered his head, his pale golden eyes falling to the grass, ignoring Verin now. He would not kill her; instead he must find Ar’thilmus.

As always, the shadows consumed Di’thang’s body, enveloping him in a way that would hide him from the average eye. He knew in the back of his mind that Verin could probably see him; her eyes had adjusted over her years with him and Shade and she had begun to see through his concealing. But he did not care. His crossbow hanging limply at his side now, Di’thang made his way down the incline to the level that his former love now stood. He passed her without even offering a glance, his eyes set on one thing; the cave exit that would take him under the river to the other side of Ashaba Crossing, and towards the town…

“She asked me to kill you, you know?”

Verin’s words hit a nerve in Di’thang that froze him to the spot. His eyes widened and he stared ahead of him at the dark tunnel opening. A single sentence alone had sucked from him the will to use it. Slowly the moon elf turned, and set his eyes on her. His true love had asked for his death? And by the hands of the one that had ruined all they had? Di’thang had lost more than just the will to leave Ashaba Crossing.

“Then kill us, Verin.”

The shock in Evanshalee’s eyes as he spoke these words in his usual monotonic voice would have been enough to bring a grin to any onlooker’s face; Di’thang, however, remained completely emotionless as he tugged loose a pair of straps on his black leather armor and pulled the suit from his chest, tossing it to the grass. Verin’s eyes trailed down his pale, bare chest, privately imagining already plunging her rapiers into the flesh. Arching a brow, the half-drow lifted her eyes back to his.

“You give yourself up?”

In response, Di’thang gave a nod of his head, his cold, and pale golden eyes glancing between the twin rapiers held in her hands. He swallowed heavily, Ar’thilmus’ refusal of marriage still playing as the sole thought in his mind. “You had me, Di'thang... I'm sorry, I can't marry you…Goodbye…” He wanted death. He would not live in this plane without her. His knuckles clicked as Di’thang clenched his fist, his crossbow dropping noiselessly to the grass.

“Yes.”

Evanshalee looked to her wounded shoulder now, slowly rotating it at the bone and causing herself to wince at the pain. His eyes met hers; as they had met so many times in their past. There was a difference this time. She wanted to hurt him for all he had done to her; she wanted revenge, but she was undecided if killing him was the answer. But he wanted her to do it. The anticipation caused the half-drow matron to chuckle through gritted teeth.

“I'm almost sad Shade isn't here to watch… This will hurt. A lot.”

Her taunts falling on death ears, Evanshalee gave Di’thang a sweet smile, slowly readjusting her stance as he stepped closer to her, telling herself that she should stop hesitating now and just get the job done. Di’thang’s hands feel limp at his sides now, leaving his chest bare and open to her. He too was ready for it all to end.

“So much for a painless death.” A smirk crossed his lips more faintly than ever before, his both eyes flitting between Jiv'undus and Jiv'elgg, her twin rapiers, absently scanning the black adamantine, reading the undercommon engravings to himself. “Which will it be?”

A cruel smile crawled up Evanshalee’s lips and for a moment, her violet eyes followed his glance to the rapiers. Di’thang could see the look in the eyes; the burning hate, the lust for his suffering. “Another for the Lady.” Di’thang closed his eyes tight. He had made the only two people he ever had cared for want him dead. He had made the only two people he had ever cared for want him rid of their lives. Years ago the idea of it would have made him laugh, but he had changed so much since he had arrived in Battledale. “You had me, Di'thang... I'm sorry, I can't marry you…Goodbye…” Ar’thilmus did not want him; then he did not want himself.

His wish came in the first and second of Verin’s swings, the rapiers slicing his skin as though it were butter, drawing his blood out in quick gushes and extracting from him agonized, yet muffled, cries of anguish, each slash feeling like a thousand paper cuts on his slender chest. Di’thang had never believed in the mentality of seeing your life flash before your eyes; the idea had never been a pleasant one for him. But he experienced it now. He saw the shadows, consuming his body, controlling his mind… Műriir became Di’thang… and he saw Dhaethaow, and then he saw Ar’thilmus… that first day by the dummies and in the ruins. And he saw Verin, with him at the castle. And he saw the arguments, and he saw the cheating and the lies. He saw the pain and the tears down Ar’thilmus’ face. He saw the kiss that had turned Verin against him. And he saw his decision in the barracks. And he saw the twins, Lakil and Aza’lihnlia. And he saw Ar’thilmus’ smile… and then he saw that very day; her refusal to marry him.

“Goodnight, bastard.”

Evanshalee drew her blades; the satisfaction of finally putting him to death was still bubbling inside, though part of her was wishing she could do it all over again. Every swing had been made with the thought of the hurt he had caused Shade on her mind. To her it was all Di’thang’s fault and she had taken vengeance for that.

She abandoned what was left of Di’thang’s body, a bloodied carcass, there on the grass in Ashaba Crossing to rot. He had paid the price for everything he had done to Evanshalee. For everything he had done to Ar’thilmus. And he paid the price of his life willingly; for there was no life when he had lost everything.