Running

I ran through the night.

I ran blindly, madly, the sleet and rain whipping at my skin and skirts, my hair unfurling like a flag as I plunged into the darkness beyond Seahaven.

I ran as if I had all the demons of Aagos chasing the hem of my cloak.

"I'll pour Darkness into you, turn your body into a creche for demons... put you in a cave where no one will hear your screams as your body bloats, twisting and deformed, eventually splitting open like an overfilled wineskin..."

He had grinned with his awful, sharpened teeth and cruel lips, and added, "And while we wait for you to get to that point I'll feed on your limbs, chewing the living flesh from your bones".

I felt as if I wanted to crawl out of my own skin, when I felt his breath on my neck- Morhiag's assassin- a man Amazon named as "Malavel". Something has driven me, since that meeting. The Dark Ones finally had a shape, a face, a name. I wove through the fields with a new viciousness, a ferocity that surprised even me. I had a new goal: demon hunter.

In truth, though, I ran from that cave, that fate, and I still do.