On the Eve of Collision

Months before in the stone cell of a dungeon, Ryheric saved the last fragment of his decimated spirit by one obsession. The idea that, even if it killed him, he would end the life of Vahiy's puppet overseer, General Efedagon.

Now, he rode beside his nemesis. Both warriors equally cornered into the next mission. Equally despising it, for vastly different reasons.

The most bizarre development to Ryheric was his realisation he wanted Efedagon to live through this. He would even fight and bleed with him to see it so.

Were his spirits so spent that he had truly joined and become the enemy? He couldn't say, anymore. He knew in his heart the stream's current led this way; and he also knew the waters were now thick with blood and poison. There was no going back.

Thus, the two rode to join the warriors who had gone on ahead for their dark task. Beaten, subdued as beasts with gnashing teeth are cornered, and with no other options remaining to them.

They rode to hunt prey for Vahiy. They rode for chaos, destruction and the choking, gasping flickers of hope like candle flame on a distant shore. They rode as fighters, and as Ryheric always knew, fighters were men ready to die.

The only music came in the macabre beauty of notes wrung from good steel.

Maybe that was enough.