SheWrath

SHEWRATH

___A course wind blew through her hair and across her rough skin. She didn't feel it, she had never felt it, she wished she could feel it. Her skin was lifeless, felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing -- but she sensed everything. Her hands dangled at her side: pale bluish flesh. Almost dead but very much alive. They were cold, cold like ice, but she could only guess that. So it had been for as far back as she could remember, and so it would be for the rest of her life.
___Her hair blew in her face, but she didn't notice it, the wind seemed to control her today. She moved, one step, then another -- trying to fight it, wanting to sleep. She was sleeping, she wanted to rest, she had to rest. How many warriors had she slain in this lifetime, she asked herself. Why can't they just kill me in the name of their gods, a sword was all that was needed. If she had one, it would have been over centuries ago, but her weapon was fear.
___Dark blood boiled under her skin, a blood that kept her alive, a blood that she cursed. It had been bled only once, a young cavalier, who's bravery resulted in his death. He had struck her once, with the tip of his dagger, but then was silenced. It was her first taste of her powers. She remembered it clearly -- her hand had reached out toward the cavalier. She pressed three fingers against his chained torso, they had glowed red against his armor, then melted straight though it. That was when he screamed, seconds later he collapsed over her arms. His face had stared up at her, blank eyes, red lips, then it happened. His face faded out into a ghostly white, then blue, and then, after time, solid black. His body had collapsed into dust, with the exception of his linked chain mail, which had three small holes disrupting the iron links. She had snarled at the corpse, enthralled in victory, the power, she lived in his death, but now stronger.
___Years had passed, and fears took control of the cavaliers' minds. Few had challenged, those who had never reached her. She knew it was only her nature to thrive from her life drain, but why. . . She was no longer herself, she had slain the cavalier, but she had not, she couldn't have. Why had he missed, but would his sword have pierced her flesh, could it have killed her. Was she immortal, why, what had she done.

___It screamed, a hollow crackle of sound, echoing off the vacant dungeon walls. My companions woke immediately, some frozen in terror, others dashing to their feet. I watched them, I could feel their fear. The older ones tried to hide it, it would all be useless. Fear had to be conquered, not avoided or hid. When they found her, it would be chaotic, half would flee, and half would die. It was their adventure, and how they died was not his business -- he was here for other reasons.
___In minutes, the group was calmed to silence. Good, he thought, but they wouldn't have time to calm themselves when the time came. It was still impressing, the first taste of the haunt launched them into terror, it was only a sound, and it would be a full day before they reached its "lair." The hunt would continue, spiraling down toward the center of the earth. They ate in silence, and were immediately on their way. It was a hunt for death, but they were innocent. . . but then, so was she.
___They were far from the best, very far. A group of ameteurs, seeking fame and glory, and gold. Mercenaries, that weren't mercenaries yet, and would never be. Their fate had been sealed from the beginning, they hoped, but hope was futile. It was good, the best would be no match for it, and the world would have lost its heroes for nothing. Let them fight what they can kill, the world needs heroes, living heroes. But these men would never reach their homes again.
___There were fifty of them, fiftly fighters meant nothing to it: fifty children. They walked in silence towards the mist below. Each armed, each armored, each scared. Numbers meant nothing, for one who can't die. The steel blades useless, the steel armor useless, the fifty warriors, all useless. He wondered how it would happen, how would they all die. Who would flee, who would die first, who would die last, among the bodies of his comrades. Who, how would it happen, how did it happen.

___She heard them, coming from the sky, she waited. Would they kill her? She silently wished for death. She knew these would be her last thoughts before whatever happened next, she knew something was about to take control. When it was over, she would resume her power, and feel what she had just done. And hurt, and wish she had died. Then she would remember the details, almost like a dream, but real. Then she would wait, for decades, until it happened again, never forgetting what was about to happen. Why was she here, what did she do, why, why. . .


Jeff Hartline