blood, sensing the multitude of lives within him. They
stood toe-to-toe, exchanging blows, inflicting and
absorbing tremendous damage to one another.
“You’ve grown lazy,” she taunted, “feeding on tributes
brought to you by sycophants, while I have been
devouring warriors.” She picked up a dagger and slashed at
him. He blocked the blow, and stepped in close to her,
stabbing her chest with his extended claws, shredding her
gown as she pulled away. But he paused to gather himself,
rather than pressing the attack, and Lisle knew that the
battle had turned.
“Your powers are no longer enough.” She spoke quietly,
advancing on him warily. She jumped up high and came
down on his back, biting savagely down on his neck. He
struggled mightily, turning and twisting, bucking and
rearing, in an attempt to dislodge her. But to no avail, and
as she sucked the blood that ran forth, she reached into his
mind for the first time. She could have laughed, she
thought, as she sensed his bewilderment. His recognition
of her presence within his mind, was a terrifying and
devastating blow.
She continued drawing forth his life’s essence, feeling him
weaken beneath her. He slid to the floor, yet she still
maintained her deadly position. His hands searched weakly
for some final defense, but it was not to be. Only, when
she felt that his time was nearly done, did she allow him to
fall away from her bite. She stood, quietly surveying the
disarray, and found what she needed amongst his
treasures. A centuries old Executioner’s axe, covered in
dried blood and gruesome engravings of death and torture,
18