Di’thang had risen from bed early as he often did, silently leaving Ar’thilmus and their daughter to sleep. They both needed it; Di’thang was the only one of them unaffected by Shade in his dreams. That elf, or drow as he now appeared to be, was playing heavily on Di’thang’s wakened mind though. He had plagued their lives over a century ago in Battledale, and now he was back to do so again in Rovandon; the “Realm of Delight.” Di’thang found no delight here; not whilst the drow lived.

Di’thang furrowed his brows in silent thought, his piercing gold eyes holding a watchful glare over the town. He was kneeling on top of the town gates; the shadows had willingly got him up there. Why did Shade continue to haunt his family? Di’thang didn’t believe he was still bitter at him for taking the half-drow, Verin, from him over a century ago. Shade had Verin now; or so Ar’thilmus had told him. There was more to it, of that Di’thang was certain. He had asked his wife what had been between her and Shade before they had met; before Battledale. She had assured him it was solely guild business and he believed her.

“No lies…”

If it had been only business, what was Shade’s grudge now? He had wanted the undead army and she could give it him; but did he want it now, one hundred and thirty years later? Such questions weighed Di’thang down. He would not let Shade hurt her anymore; he had to put an end to it. And if it meant putting an end to Shade, that is what Di’thang was prepared to do.

The moon elf flicked a bolt over his forefinger and thumb expertly, awaiting his prey. He had planned this and at any moment it would all end. As expected, the drow Shade, or Sekolath as he now called himself, turned the corner onto the road towards the town exit. A smirk curled Di’thang’s lips in anticipation, as he crouched low in the shadows above the gates, silently lifting his crossbow up and sliding the bolt from his fingers into the end. The bolt clicked into place and Di’thang put Sekolath into its sights.

With the movement of one arm, Sekolath vanished from sight. Di’thang cried out in anger, squinting fiercely to see the drow, but to no avail. Sekolath, Shade, was gone.

-

“Is something wrong, love?”

Ar’thilmus had noticed the faint frown on his pale lips as he entered their home. She had awoken, dressed and was sat in wait of him. She had learnt to read even the slightest hint of emotion in him over the years, as she knew well of his tendency to keep them hidden.

“We are fine.”

“You’re lying to me, Di’thang.”

His eyes lifted to meet hers, a glimmer in his that had given him away. With a slow nod, he turned away from her, moving towards the stairs. But he stopped at the foot of them; he could feel her eyes burning into the back of his head, her voice echoing around his head, forcing words from him.

“Yes, we are.”

He began to climb the stairs again, but the handrail unnaturally snapped itself from the wall and moved in front of him, hovering in the air and blocking his path. Psionics.

“We are sorry, Ar’thilmus. You will be free one day, you have our word.”

He snatched the handrail from the air and pushed it aside so he could continue to the upper chambers. His wife watched him vanish from her sight halfway up the stairs as the shadows swallowed him up. Her eyes moving from this to the handrail still floating in midair, she chuckled softly at how strange a family they all were, before sighing to herself. She knew how helpless her husband felt; he had told her before and she felt it herself. Taking the glowing red gem that contained her soul from its pouch at her side, Ar’thilmus stared into the shining crimson depths. Closing her eyes suddenly, the beautiful moon elf let a frown play her lips; for just a moment she could have sworn she had seen a smirking drow face reflected back at her.