Hate

Slipping in and out of the shadows, she left no sign of her passing.

One could see she bore no elaborate ornaments, save for a single crimson-red agate, encrusted in the middle of a silver medallion bordered with inscriptions. It was her most prized possession.

Running her hand through her damp hair, she thought of the dangerous path she had chosen to take. It seemed so long since she had left the place she once called home.

She was only ten years old on the last day of her childhood but sometimes life leaves us with no choice…

Ultionie was no beauty, and while there was nothing about her on the surface that would suggest she could fight, yet she had a talent for casting magic…

She had been in her room that night, when a sudden luminosity from her father’s room startled her into alertness. Worried, she stole down to his room.

There, she saw something she had always hoped was only a figment of her imagination.

A blood stained heap lay on the ground, a tattered leather robe loosely dangling from it. Numb with shock and disbelief, it took a moment to process what she saw from the doorway and her heart seemed to momentarily stopped beating – Dabben, the only parent she had known, was stone dead.

Her heart felt like it had been the one so viciously stabbed and brutally killed as she collapsed on the wooden floor and wept. Grief overwhelmed her as she cried her heart out for her father, and hoped with all her might that this was just a long nightmare.

Everything was being taken from her, she thought in despair. Everything that mattered.

Time heals all wounds, and gradually, the deep cut in her heart healed too, leaving but a scar of deep hatred and resentment for the one who had killed her father. This hatred became a mad passion for revenge, to avenge Dabben’s death.

Who was the one she was looking for? What secret did her father hold that caused him his death? Tongues started wagging soon after the death of the half-elf Dabben, and from strolling around the familiar streets of Gihon, Ultionie pieced together bit by bit the tale which she had never been told.

Long before Ultionie had been born, her mother’s heart had belonged to another man, another druid who worked alongside her father. Devoted as Bertram was to Ultionie’s mother, she soon left him, marrying Dabben instead and bearing him a daughter before she died. It was said that after the blow dealt by his loved one leaving him, Bertram shrunk into himself, living the life of a wanderer yet his love for the woman who had chosen his friend over him still burned. Until…

Ultionie knew the tale from there. Until Bertram decided that after a 10 year long wait, he would kill his friend once and for all, paying back Dabben for the pain he had caused and for snatching his loved one away.

From then on, Ultionie knew her parents were lost to her forever, no more than bones buried in the ground. And because of a single man, her childhood was erased in a single day.

Her anger proved to be beyond words and soon she began the long trek to the centre of the land, finally reaching the druid stronghold, KarioSurr.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she slowly advanced.

The moon was gradually sinking into the black outline of the hills. Thick stone-and-mortar walls bound a wide nine-storey castle building. It was set on a broad peak and towered over everything else around it with an intimidating air.

A lake lay just 30 feet away from them and light reflected off its glassy surface, shimmering in the clump of trees. How beautiful this all was, Ultionie thought…

“I thought you would never come.”

Whipping about, startled, Ultionie found herself looking at a huge black shadow that was so big and seemed to rise up suddenly, detaching itself from the oak trees around the clearing. As he moved forward, Ultionie saw that he was at least eight feet tall, but exceptionally lean, and his tall frame was wrapped in a flowing black cloak with a loose cowl pulled close above his head. His overall appearance was frightening, all blackness and size, and Ultionie had to fight down the urge building within her to flee.

“Who are you?” She demanded, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

He laughed softly. “You don’t know me? Why, am I not the reason why you’re out here in the first place? Am I not the one you are blaming for everything that has happened to you? Am I not?”

Then it came to her suddenly. Bertram. It was he.

Drawing her thin elvish blade from its sheath, she crouched lower, stabilizing herself. This was the moment she had waited for.

“It was you wasn’t it?” she hissed. “It was you who took away all I had, took away my father, took away my life and future. Why? WHY?”

“No.” The single word resounded through the clearing.

“No. It was not me.” He said softly but with dignity and patience.

“Ultionie, listen to me. You must believe me. It was not me who killed your father. I would never harm your mother’s husband, I loved her too much. And Dabben, we were close friends and had been working on a project for the druid council. I understood him and he trusted me –- “

“More lies! So he was wrong to do so! My father was blinded by your act and that caused him his death, but he shall not die without cause.”

“It was not me! It was –- “

A flash of white light shot from behind the trees while Ultionie shot aside to avoid the blast.

“You can take me if you want to, but If I’m dying, you are coming with me!”

Dropping back once again into a protective crouch, she channelled her magic down her arm into the metal blade. She felt its fiery rush from her body and concentrated on directing its flow directly into the tip of the sword. She brought the metal striking into the ground and watched as the light rushed towards the druid. Bertram brought up his arm in a wave and deflected the magic.

“Ultionie, listen to me. When you were born, your father instructed me with your protection should you die and he told me that he left something behind for you should he have to pass before his time. He did not tell me what he left but simply said that –- “

Blocking out the druid’s words, she tried once again and focusing her entire being on doing so, she brought down her weapon with ferocious purpose and the magic shot forward once more. This time, the druid’s guard was down Ultionie’s blow penetrated him and he collapsed to the ground.

“ –- medallion held the gift!”

Ultionie brought her blade down one final time and staggered back. On the brink of death, Bertram gasped, “Dabben said something about the medallion…”

Picking up her few belongings and slowly proceeding back home, she slowly grew curious of what her father meant by the medallion. The only medallion she knew of was the one on her chest and she slowly unfastened it from its chain.

Unlatching a clasp on the side, she wondered why she had never noticed this opening. Nestled in the middle of the medallion, was a scrap of parchment and she carefully removed it with heart beating fast. It was in her father’s neat manuscript and he wrote:

Dear Ultionie, I don’t know under what circumstances or with what emotions you are reading this letter, but I know one thing. I have withheld from you a dark secret and now, it is time for you to know the truth...

Bertram and I have long worked on a weapon so powerful that it would be able to keep all the demons at bay. We once tried out this weapon on a master demon, Erus, who was successfully banished to Hell, as we named it, and was never seen again. But our actions had certain consequences. The demon’s faithful servant, Sinoris was full of vengeance and hatred for our actions that he vowed to get me and Bertram one day.

It is now that I have revealed this secret to you that I hope whatever questions you still have will be answered. Bertram is a good man and turn to him in times of need. Good luck my child.

Crumbling to the ground, she realized her fatal mistake. Bertram was really innocent. She had killed…

“You have helped me serve my master. May his spirit now rest in peace.”

She felt the coldness of metal on her back.

The girl could just glimpse a figure moving around her. The feeling was gone from her body and her arm was soaked in a wetness that could not be mistaken for anything other than what it obviously was. Then, the pain began, sudden and intense, rushing in…

Was she any better than Sinoris? Was she? They had set out with the same goal, same purpose…

(Written originally for narrative Performance Task I refined it a little and here it is. Please review and help improve me it further because at the moment it sounds very clichéd and simple.)