Golden Box Book Publishing One Picture: Thousands of Words | Page 94

She wondered if her brother's words were true, as she collected the blood of her victims in the last of the three vials given to her by her Employer. Did vampires thirst for the blood of men merely to fuel their supernatural strength and eternal youth? Or was it the taste of fear they craved, the horror of their victim as they drained his body dry and stole away his life? Her task complete, she opened a small satchel and slotted the vial into place. It nestled, abutting the one containing the purest, clearest water, drawn from the well within the Temple of Light. Said to have the power to cower the undead and force them to flee. The Assassin knew not the truth of this but she trusted her employer and accepted the vial gratefully. After all insurance was always good to have, especially when dealing with the undead. She had considered using it as an opening gambit to begin her attack, but decided against it, deciding to put her trust in the more substantial tools of her trade. Smiling lovingly she gently cleaned the dagger's long obsidian blade. It had taken almost five years of lies, theft and murder to acquire the weapon- across the length and breadth of Everon and beyond. Corpses of men, beasts and other dark beings marked her passing until she finally found her prize. A blade that could cut through any substance-flesh, armour, steel or hide- all yielded to its touch. She held the blade to the open window, pale moonlight catching it's razor edge causing it to glint with an emerald hue. Fading, the moonlight was smothered by passing clouds heavily pregnant with rain. The room was once more in shadow, just as it had been when she had slid into it several minutes ago. For more than an hour she had clung outside, hidden in the