“Then it begins.”

Gilseth’ir is his opponent. The Scourge of the Mesmir.

Haldred readies his blade and charges the Scourge, answering his opponent’s words with a first slash of his left short sword.

Gilseth is massive, his size belying his speed, and he seems to disappear before Haldred’s first blow, pivoting on one enormous foot to make himself a smaller target. He chuckles a deep, rumbling la...

His heart seems to stop as the answer becomes clear. Crystal and shining and horrible. But it is the only answer. The only one that makes sense.

Are there others that could go? Yes. Always. Always. Of course. And do they have enough time to find someone? No. No, of course not. Never enough time. Never peace. Never rest.

Never someone else.

The girl needs his help. And his help… it mean...

The raven hair or hair as golden as the sun. The blue eyed-beauty or the eyes as green as an emerald on display. The porcelain skin with the elven features or the ebony warrior, strong and sturdy as the mountainside. The slender willow figure or the voluptuously curved hips. One or the other. The rarities. Those set apart from others are sought for the spotlight.

For desire.

For what they ...