Devil of the Swamp Part 1

Read Time: 9mins

The Vexvane estate, once the most opulent jewel in Sanctuary’s already glistening crown; an architectural marvel erected in celebration of Dreadmaster Lucius’ rise to power. Carved from blackest marble over six long years; upon completion it became not just a home but a monument to the power that a Dreadmaster wields.

Five generations passed and the prominent position this structure once held has long been forgotten; the extravagant balls and constant flow of dignitaries a thing of the past. Great masses of blood moss dig their way into the foundations, leaving them twisted and buckled. The sickly damp scent of moisture perforating every inch of the once magnificent interior.

Tenebra swept away a thick mass of cobwebs as she fought her way through the broken building. The last time she’d been here it had worn a very different facade; servants had bustled through the halls as visitors came and went, the constant hum of life had meant that the estate had never really felt like a home, more a great tavern. Now, however, the place was deathly quiet, the only noticeable sounds were the creaks and moans as the building shifted under its own immense weight.

Drifting past a large open room, Tenebra halted for a moment. Rays of sunshine spilled through cracks in a boarded window casting spots of brilliant light onto a tired and worn bed, her parents’ bed. Tenebra’s hand tightened on the folded sheet she clutched in her hand. How long had she been alone? 15, 20 years? She’d been no more than a child at the time of her father’s death. Alaric Vexvane, a divisive figure within noxin society, even by her family’s already polarizing standards. After all these years she struggled to remember his face. When she recalled the times they’d spent together they felt more like a dream than anything that had a place in tangible reality.

Her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to her mother. She had been a wild and free spirit, unshackled by the normal conventions of noxin society; as well as a great beauty, one who many young suitors had pursued. For Letha there had only ever been one man: Alaric. Letha had been the day to Alaric’s night; never had there been a pair with more polarizing views on their culture, yet they shared a love like no other.

Tenebra ran a hand through her dark tangled mane. As a child, people had always remarked how striking the resemblance she and her mother shared, that surely she would grow to be every bit as beautiful as her. However, years spent in the swamps had not been kind to the noxin heiress. Her once delicate features worn and hardened by a life of constant hardship, hunting for the truth of her past.

After Alaric’s death, Tenebra’s mother had become little more than a ghost, shuffling silently through the halls of their home, partaking in conversations with invisible companions and spending long nights staring out over their estate. It was at that time the the world had suddenly grown quiet. Servants were relieved of their duties and visitors called less and less frequently. Then one frosty winter’s morning, while making their way to visit the family tomb, her mother had been taken.

Tenebra had always known she wasn’t dead, no matter what was said to the contrary. She felt it, like a lump lodged deep within her stomach. Ever since that day in the marshes when she had fled leaving her mother to an unknown fate, her life had changed. No longer the heiress to the Vexvane estate, she’d cast all that she was aside in her hunt for vengeance.

However, after years of dead ends and questionable choices she had achieved little more than the complete ruination her once proud family name. The Vexvanes had become a joke, a warning spoken about in the throws of high society; “Don’t let your desires exceed your grasp, remember Alaric and his wayward women.”

But now the flames of her desires had reignited, a letter delivered to her under the cover of night, the fuel the fed the flames, as her fingers moved over the pages they began to shake. How it had come to find itself at her bedside was a mystery; but she had recognized the deep red seal that secured the papers instantly; the Vexvane family crest.

The words that danced across the pages left her in shock, her head swimming with thoughts of her past. How could she have been so foolish? This hadn’t begun with her mother’s disappearance; that was merely another chapter in the story. Her father was alive!

Marked in blood red ink, his closing words sent a shiver down her spine: ‘Come back to me, Tenebra.’ If these really were his words then he would answer for his choices, for allowing her mother to slip into madness and for leaving her, a young girl, alone in a dangerous world.

A muffled cry echoing through the shell of the ancient halls dragged Tenebra back into the present. Her father’s letter may have been a mystery to her but now she would find her answers.

Striding with purpose, she burst into the aviary that lied at the heart of the residence. While the rest of the Vexvane estate was cold and stunk of decay, this room was humid and teeming with life; a magical forest existing within its own bubble-like ecosystem, hidden away from the devastation that surrounded it. It had been blessed by shaman of the Duskglade Crop as a symbol of peace more than a decade ago when the oakthorn-noxin truce rested on a knife’s edge.

In the center of the secret forest, below a tree that stretched to the halls ornate ceiling laid a noxin, bound and gagged. As Tenebra sauntered towards the young man, his eyes shifted instantly in her direction.

“Look who’s awake,” Tenebra gleefully announced, moving closer to the helpless warrior. “How strange it is that I return home for the first time in so many moons and here I find you sneaking about like a rodent.” Tenebra’s face moved erratically, now only inches away from her captive. “But how did you know I’d be here? Who whispered my secrets into your eager little ears?”

The bound man struggled as Tenebra ran her weathered hand across his face.

“Be calm now. I’m not going to hurt you, I just need to know where he is.”

Carefully she pulled the knotted gag from the young man’s mouth. “Release me, devil, I’ll tell you nothing!” He spat the words at her with unquestionable hatred.

The soft, almost motherly expression Tenebra had worn until now was wiped away in an an instant. Clenched teeth and piercing eyes bore a hole deep into the nameless assailant’s very being.

“I hate that name!” Her face moved so closely to his own that he could feel her breath upon his lips. “You will give me what I desire, in one way or another.”

Reaching into the small leather satchel that hung from her worn belt, Tenebra produced a blade. The knife pulsed with a mystical energy, its dark heart spilling purple light upon the enraged woman.

“Is it true that an assassin’s blade swallows the soul of those whose life it takes?”

Tenebra dropped her entire weight upon the assassin’s midriff, pinning him to the floor with a heavy thud.

The man gasped for breath. “My brothers will find you, witch. Then you will be the one who feeds our blades.”

Tenebra brought the blade to rest upon his chest. Its sharp point biting into the thick, black cloak that enveloped him. With one furious slice, the cloak and chain mail it hid were cleaved in two, leaving the man’s scar covered chest exposed.

“Your soul doesn’t belong to your guild or this blade, it belongs to me.” Tenebra’s hand moved across her captive’s chest, cold at first but then a great warmth began to build. “If you won’t give me the information that I seek then I will take it.”

The assassin desperately struggled to no avail, his life force feeding into Tenebra’s open hand as if drawn by a rope. He began to scream as the tethers that bound his soul were torn away one by one. The sensation of draining the man’s life was like bottled lightning. She could feel herself growing stronger with every second that passed.

This was the darkest of magics and her mastery of such things was one of the reasons the young woman now found herself exiled from all but the most dangerous parts of society. Some used this power to extend their own lives while others looked to increase their own strength. Tenebra found no interest in such convoluted desires, all she hungered for was the truth, and she would find it using whatever means necessary, even if it meant turning towards the darkness.

Sweat poured from the man’s face, his eyes rolling backwards in his skull as the witch continued to unravel his being. Then in an instant he was broken. “Okay!” he screamed, “I know where he is, I know where to find your father! Please, no more.”

Tenebra moved her hand to release him but then she heard it. It called to her from deep within. A voice she hadn’t heard in many years. “He lies! Take his life and find the truth for yourself. He means nothing to us, his essence will make us strong.”

For a moment the world appeared to freeze. Could she trust the words of an assassin or would she listen to her inner darkness?

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