Cruel Twist of Fate

Large silver wings swept out from her back, as she stared up at the setting sun. Her twin blades glittered brilliantly from the last rays. It was nearing time; she would have to leave shortly if she was to make it to her target. The silver wings wafted outwards as she leapt off the cliff. She was swift as she dodged around hills and trees. The camp loomed before her within seconds. As was expected, everyone was up and getting ready to break camp. Without slowing, she flew through the camp, slicing the necks of all in her path. At the edge of camp, she flipped around and flew back through. Chasing down the ones who tried to escape her wrath. None was to survive this night and she made sure of it.

She was covered in thick red blood as she finally landed. It, as well as gore, dripped down her blades, as she walked up to the last living person in the camp. He was their leader, the one she was sent to kill. The others were but a game to her, a way of horning her skills and nothing more. She didn’t care about killing innocents; she found great pleasure in death and destruction. She even put fear into her master. Something that was not easy to accomplish.

She smiled maliciously, this man was hard to find. A good hunt indeed. Now all she wanted to do was slit his neck and laugh as his lifeblood spilt out across the ground. He was said to be a powerful warrior, but now he backed away from her. Cowering in fear. She loved it. This was what she lived for. She was a true killer from the beginning. She knew nothing else, only the thrill of taking another’s life.

Suddenly her head snapped up. Something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong. Before she could flee from the camp, fifteen powerful men burst out from their hiding in the trees. Easily surrounding her. Black wings sat posed at their backs. Jutting perfectly from their shoulder blades. Black wings. Her master’s enemies. Her smile returned as she struck out quickly. Blood spurted out from the slit in the leaders neck, re-drenching her in red liquid.

She then shifted and flew at the closest black winged warrior. Her left-hand blade easily amputated his right arm before he had the chance to parry her attack. His scream of agony tore through the silence of the dead camp. Igniting fury in his companions. They rushed toward her in a wave, hoping to overtake her with shear numbers and blades.

Her blades flew just as swiftly as she did. She dodged around them, between them, slicing each and every one she passed. Screams and sprays of blood followed in her wake. She had dropped five of them before they had finally overtaken her. Her arm and leg bled profusely, but they were not what caused her to falter.

One of her wings was struck, instantly grounding her. She felt dizzy, faint as she tried to crawl away. The pain was profound; like nothing she had ever felt before. The surviving ten men surrounded her once again. Snickering as one of them walked up to her. Unable to handle the loss of her wing, she passed out before he could torment her any further.