The man in black, now Draven, was on his way back to his kingdom after taking care of personal matters with Blank when they decided to stop by a tavern.
They sat side by side on a table meant for four, the opposite two chairs empty, the wood scarred from years of spilled drinks and knife fights.
A woman served them two jugs of dark purple wine with a bowl.
"Please enjoy your swamp wine." The woman left after saying those words. The tavern was a small one with about ten people present, including Draven and Blank. The air was filled with smoke from the hearth, the smell of sour ale, and the low murmur of conversations that died the moment the two strangers entered.
Just as Draven took a sip, closing his eyes to savor the bitter tang, he spoke.
"It's been a while, Lisa," he said as he opened his eyes to the woman with brown hair now sitting across the two gentlemen. It was like she had appeared out of nothing—no chair scraped, no footstep sounded.
"Lady Lisa, my greetings." Blank stood quickly and bowed, his voice filled with respect.
"You sure are having fun," she said as she looked at Draven, who nonchalantly took another sip.
"Here's your swamp wine, madam." The woman who had served the two men earlier spoke as she served Lisa with a bow. Her gaze was hollow like she was hypnotised, her movements were slow and mechanical.
"You know, you just have to ask," Draven said as he looked at Lisa. "There was no need to hypnotise her."
"You've gone soft, Lucius. Is it an effect of you staying in the human realm for so long?" Lisa asked, her voice sweet but edged.
"Why have you come here, Lisa? If it's to see how I'm doing, then just go back," Draven said in an authoritative voice that made the nearest patrons shift uncomfortably in their seats.
"I'll make it short. You need to return, and soon, Lucius. The other six are scheming and making moves. I'm afraid that at this rate they might…" She didn't finish, and Draven spoke.
"Surely you didn't come all this way just to sprout nonsense, Lisa." Draven's brow furrowed, his voice dropping into a resonant, authoritative chill. "What does it matter what they scheme? In the end, everything is meaningless in the face of absolute power. It seems you've forgotten exactly who I am: Lucius L. Draven, one of the three Great Calamities."
"You know if anyone knows you well, it's me," she said as she stood and walked over to Draven. She was dressed in a seductive gown meant to kill a man's heart—fabric clinging like a second skin, cut low enough to draw every eye in the tavern. She wrapped her arms around him seductively as she spoke in whispers.
"I'm only worried. I heard them saying they've found a way to kill you."
"That's the funniest thing I've heard," Draven said as he took his jug for another sip.
At the same time, across the room on the window side, two men sat, staring at Lisa's exposed thigh with open hunger.
"Hey, look, that maiden is just out calling to us," one man said to his friend, voice slurred with drink.
"This settles it," the other man said as he stood. "Let's just see how soft those bums are." He said as he walked over to Draven and the others.
Lisa took the jug from Draven and sipped it, her other arm still around his shoulder, stroking his chest gently.
"I've been meaning to ask, why is it called the swamp win—" she hadn't finished her question when a heavy hand struck her curving hip, fingers digging into her flesh with a brazen squeeze, splashing the wine on Draven's fine clothes.
"Oh, my pardons," the man drawled, his voice was filled with false apology as his hand lingered, sliding slow and serpent-like along her thigh before pulling away. "I had so much to drink I didn't notice where my hand was moving."
Lisa took a towel from the table and wiped Draven's clothes, ignoring the man. Under normal circumstances, Blank would've acted, but he was feeling uncomfortable by how close Lisa was.
The tavern had fallen into a tense hush, every patron watching from the corner of their eye, some sensing the storm gathering at the table while others watching in curiosity.
Blank's hand rested on his sword hilt, but Draven was silent.
Lisa kept wiping the stain, her fingers lingering, her smile sweet as poison.
The man who had grabbed her laughed, emboldened.
"Beautiful ladies like you shouldn't waste time with these gloomy types, wouldn't you agree?" he slurred, reaching again.
After putting the cloth down, she turned to the man with a sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She grabbed his hand gently before it could reach her for the second time.
"Think nothing of it," she said. "Just make sure you don't fall on your way home. The road can be rough sometimes."
"Thank you for understanding," the man said as he turned to walk away, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. 'They're so easy going. The man is a coward; he sat there like a stone even as I soiled his fine silks. And the woman...' He flexed his fingers, the memory of her skin still burning in his palm. He glanced at his friend as he walked. 'He's not going to believe just how supple she was. A prize like that shouldn't be wasted on a ghost in black.
I'll withdraw for now, after they head out, I'll then make my move.'
He glanced at his friend, who was smiling from one side of the room with his arms crossed, clearly enjoying the show.
'Looks like we'll have fun tonight.'
Just about seven paces from the table, the man's legs buckled. He dropped dead without a sound, hitting the floorboards face-first with a dull thud that silenced the tavern. His gaze was hollow and his mouth was slightly opened.
"You didn't have to be nice to him if you were going to kill him," Draven said, reaching over and taking Blank's untouched drink without asking.
'You could just order another drink though,' Blank thought with a displeased look, his fingers playing on his empty table.
"Whatever do you mean, Lucius? And why didn't you do anything after what he did?" Lisa said innocently, batting her lashes as she leaned closer.
Draven sighed as he stood, the chair scraping back.
"He already outlived his days the moment the wine spilled on me. He would've died even without your intervention."
"Hey, somebody help!" the dead man's friend cried, rushing to his side. He shook the body, panic rising in his voice as he looked at his friend who lay motionless on the floor as if he had just decided to sleep right there in the middle of the tavern.
Blank turned as he watched the man lying motionless on the floor. 'What an idiot. Of all the people you could've annoyed, why did you have to pick us?'
The other people in the tavern surrounded the man and his friend quickly, trying in their own ways to help—checking for breath, slapping cheeks, calling for water, pressing ears to chests, shouting for the barkeep to fetch an oakliner.
"It was them," the friend accused in rage, pointing a shaking finger at the table. "He said the woman was beautiful, so he was going to say hello. It doesn't make sense he just died right after. People don't just drop dead. Not unless..."
He trailed off, his face draining of color as he backed away, his gaze darting to Draven's shadow. "I wager my life on it... one of them is a Thornsleeper.
The word hit the room like a physical blow. The low murmur of the tavern vanished, replaced by the sound of stools scraping against floorboards as patrons scrambled to put distance between themselves and the table. Hands that had been reaching for ale now hovered over dagger hilts.
"A Thornsleeper? Did he just say a thornsleeper?" someone whispered in fright.
"I'm saying…" the friend began again, stepping forward with fury in his eyes.
Lisa looked at him and smiled.
Blood immediately gushed out from his ears and eyes, cutting his words short. He tried to scream in response to the agony he was going through, but he coughed blood instead. He then fell beside his friend, meeting the same fate, his body twitching once before going still.
"What just happened? What is going on here?" The group exchanged uneasy glances as they stepped back, afraid he had some illness that might spread with the blood now pooling on the floor.
"Let's just go," Draven said as he led the way.
"No one is going anywhere." A bulky figure blocked their path, chest puffed out, arms like tree trunks crossed over a barrel belly.
"I don't know what is going on here," the big man said, his voice rough from years of shouting over tavern noise, "but you people look suspicious. No one leaves until we find the cause of their deaths." It wasn't as though he had a good heart and truly wanted to help out the situation, but because a thornsleeper might be amongst them. Thornsleepers were mostly despised by how they bring chaos wherever they go. In every notorious band of bandit, there's at least one thornsleeper. And if one was present in their midst, they needed to be killed.
"I'm sorry, friend," Draven replied calmly, "but we need to be somewhere. Would you be willing to make an exception?"
He took out a pouch full of gold coins and held it out, the metal clinking with his movements.
The bulky man took it and opened it.
"Don't think you can wiggle your way…" He kept quiet as he saw the gold, eyes widening.
A single gold coin was enough to last a family of three an entire month, and this man had just received a pouch full of them—enough to buy the tavern itself twice over.
"Come to think of it," the bulky man said quickly, stepping aside with a sudden friendly grin, "I don't actually know those guys." He glanced at the two dead friends as he spoke.
"Hey, you can't let them go when you stopped us!" said one of the men from the group that stood behind the bulky man, his voice rising in protest.
"What was that?" the bulky man said in annoyance, turning with a glare. He had just made a fortune—who cared if a stranger was dead? Let the barkeep clean up the mess.
"I'm out of here, you lot should deal with the rest." He said, stroking his pouch with a smile.
Meanwhile, Draven, Lisa, and Blank were walking through the grass a little further away from the tavern when a woman appeared out of thin air.
She wore a blood-red gown and had impossibly pale skin. Her crimson eyes were fixed on the three individuals, and she had a detached look that made the air feel colder.
"Who is this maiden? Judging by how she was able to appear without my awareness, she's no ordinary maiden. Shall I remove her from your sight, Lucius?" Lisa asked, her voice filled with challenge.
"Be careful," Draven warned, his voice low and devoid of its usual nonchalance. "That is Nyxelene."
"You mean 'the' Nyxelene?" Lisa asked, pausing mid-step. Blank took an unconscious step back as he recalled the things he'd heard about her in the other realm.
"There is only one who bears that dreadful name," Draven replied.
"We meet again, Draven," Nyxelene said, but before Draven could speak, Lisa interjected.
Lisa, recovering her pride, sneered. "So what if she's Nyxelene? Do you truly believe she has what it takes to best me?" She took a predatory step forward. Where her feet touched the earth, the grass turned grey and crumbled into ash. She took another step, a circle of decay widening around her. "Let us all bear witness, if your power in truth, matches your reputation."
Nyxelene's gaze didn't even shift to meet Lisa's.
"Move aside, filth of the Void," Nyxelene said coldly. "You are not the one I've come to see."
Then, Nyxelene took a step forward.
Draven remained sangfroid—but Blank fell to his knees, atavistic fear crawling up his veins. Lisa stood frozen. Her eyes wide, her breath hitched in her throat. She had lived many years believing her touch was the ultimate end. 'I thought the rumors said she was human,' she thought frantically.
The difference was now undeniable. After all, when she took a step forward, the grass died.
But when Nyxelene took a step, the Earth itself died.