The redhead stood in the
center of the room, looking out across the stone floor towards where her employer
had been standing. The reality of what she had been told was coming to
sudden focus, and words from another time and place echoed in her mind,
words spoken by a voice that had been silent to her for more than two years.
There will come a
time when I will be needed to act in a capacity that cannot be done without
the sacrifice of a human soul.
She shuddered. She’d thought
it had passed. She’d thought that time had come and gone.
She’d been horribly, horribly
wrong.
Crimson eyes filled with
tears, the mortal soul within her raging with anger and despair. But the
mortal soul also knew that nothing could be done. The choices had been
made willingly.
A moment passed, and the
emotions fled the figure standing in the hall, yet the tears flowed on.
And with those tears shimmering on her cheeks, the redhead placed her hands
together and began to focus her power, calling the words of an ancient
spell with a vacant voice.
It was time, Shabranigdo
had said.
Red brilliance flowed over
the figure, transforming her from a sedate sorceress into an imposing figure
dressed in liquid red armor. A brilliant flame caught in her eyes, burning
all trace of mortality away, and the Knight of Shabranigdo turned on her
heel and left the room.