1I shall serve Death in Her truest form, neither taking Her charge upon myself nor perverting the natural order of Her domain. – Vow of the Bloodsworn – Second Passage, Line 1
Victra Naidel, Bloodsworn of the Veiled Matron
Guild City of Aleria, Valir
29th of Enedron, Year 457 of the Fourth Age, Harvest Moon
Voices. Familiar, but distant, like a memory of a dream gently fading. Voices of people… a person. Someone important. Important to her. Victra knew them. Her. They were a her. Someone she cared about, once. She needed to tell her something. The barest threads vanishing around her, she sighed as the last pieces of the dream collapsed and she opened her eyes to see the first flash of the sunrise breaking the horizon.
Dawn often meant relief, or at least comfort. In the wilderness, it meant safety. However, as the light swept over the hushed rooftops of Aleria, all it meant for Victra was having to face the truth. The reality that what occurred through the night was no dream.
Despite the early hour, despite the events of the night before, Victra heard the sounds of other members of Shattered Silence rousing. She closed her eyes, again allowing the vivid memories to wash over her.
She stood in a darkened alley with Shattered Silence, anticipation fluttering in her chest. A missed step, and a clattering from behind her. Her instincts scream at her to flee, to abandon the foolhardy plan and protect herself. Heath’s voice in her mind, desperate but firm, commanding them to stay the course.
Inside the building, sound dampened by magic, a brutal fight. Unexpected. Blood soaked into thick carpet and cascaded down the stairs. Her friends badly wounded, but they had their target. Bodies lay still as Shattered Silence fled into the night.
Standing in the belly of a boat, frustrations mounting and tempers flaring. A flash of white, and Heath was gone. A futile demand, and an unsatisfactory answer. A streak of silver and a spray of red. Victra, breath short, standing over the lifeless corpse of Murmur as the rest of the hold was silent. Her final whispered words to the dead woman still echoing in her ears.
“May the Matron receive her eternal gift.”
Everything had been still for a time.
A voice broke the stunned silence, coming from the dark, handsome Bordovian prince. “You all have to leave. Now,” Rodrigo said forcefully. “Take what you need, but you must quit this place quickly.”
As the bloodied members of Shattered Silence rallied themselves, Victra remained unmoving in front of the lifeless form chained to the metal seat. Her breathing was still shallow and her eyes wide as blood slowly dripped from the tip of her sword. A presence at her shoulder barely elicited a reaction.
“You must go,” Rodrigo said to her, his voice low. “I will take care of this. Trust me now, as he trusted me. I will make sure this disappears.”
Victra nodded mutely, stepping back from the metal cell.
Rodrigo muttered an oath under his breath. “This is my fault. It was foolish to believe there was anything to be gained by speaking to her. Heath even warned against it. And now…” He trailed off.
“What happened?” Victra asked helplessly, keeping her voice low. “Has anything like this… Have you… from your time…” Victra trailed off, still acutely aware of how secretive they had been keeping Heath and Rodrigo’s history from the others.
“I don’t know,” Rodrigo said. “There will be time enough to unravel this, but not now. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Victra was in a daze, her body reacting automatically, but her mind still not fully grasping what happened. It had been a sleepless night, the final hours spent staring into the dying embers of the fire in the guildhall. She relived the moments over and over, even as a part of her still pushed back against it.
The moment some magic was incanted, despite the arcane ward encircling Murmur. Heath’s momentary reaction, then light.
Moments before, as the woman had awakened and looked directly at Victra. This stranger, staring with such familiarity. “I know you,” she had said. “It seems fate has more to say than I thought.” And then those striking violet eyes looked away, as though unaware of the weight of her words. But they had shaken Victra to her core.
That unsettling had played no small part in the rage that had coursed through her arm as a vicious slash scattered the assassin’s lifeblood across the wooden deck.
When the stunned silence had passed, the party was being ushered out by Rodrigo’s spellknight when the oft-silent Cael spoke softly.
“Her armband is missing,” he said, pointing to where Murmur’s personal items were arranged on a table. The plain metal band they had removed from the woman was no longer in its place amongst the rest.
“The ranger’s armband had a glow to it, I recall,” the young man continued, almost contemplatively. “I cannot remember it glowing before, but neither can I say it did not.” He sighed. “And in the moment after, there was a strange look on her face. A resignation.”
“She expected to go as well,” Mars answered, solemn from the events of the night. “And when she realized the truth of it, she knew her life would soon be forfeit.”
Kriv and Orsic quickly gathered the other equipment into a pouch before the black-scaled dragonborn turned to the metal cage. With a grunt, he reached out and removed the metal torc they had been unable to unlock from her neck, freely removable when Victra’s sword proved more efficient than Kriv’s tools.
Victra ran the moments through her mind again and again, turning everything over and over. Could she have missed something, a sign, a clue? Try as she might, her emotions only served to cloud the rational part of her.
She knew – knows! – Heath, and he had not seen it coming. He was as shocked as everyone else in the final moments before… He didn’t know, she reassured herself. Or was she trying to convince herself? She couldn’t have missed something, not from him. She knew his tells, his instincts after all those years. She knew when he was keeping something from her, as he was whenever she confronted him about Murmur. She knew when he was lying, like when he spoke about Rodrigo. She could tell when he was looking for a way out, when he was getting restless. When… She knew him. This wasn’t his doing, not his choice. This happened to him. She had to believe that.
Blinking, Victra watched as the solemn faces of Shattered Silence began to gather in the great hall. They moved quietly, as though a cloud hung over them all. Strangers to her only months earlier, she now named them all allies. Even friends. Some strange, but powerful bond connected them all, and she had felt it when they had invited her to join their number. It was unlike anything she had previously felt. It was why she had gambled so much on this particular guild.
Two nights before, as the final preparations for the heist were underway, Victra walked the streets of Aleria alone. The nights had been as full as the days, and the elven woman had craved solitude. The night was young, Tashalë bathing the Guild City in moonlight.
The summer had been long, and the heat of the day had extended long past sundown. The coolness of Autumn would be fast approaching. She breathed deeply, exhaling slowly as she grew keenly aware of another watching her.
Victra wasted no time as she made her way across the street to where the figure stood. Rather than flee, they calmly stepped back into the shadow of an alleyway and drew back their hood. Moonlight danced over strong, familiar features. Golden-brown skin, and hair so dark as to be black. Beneath the cloak, woven layers of leather armor shifted without even the whisper of a sound. Dark eyes, discerning and critical, met Victra’s as she stared at Viera, veteran captain of the Wyldestalkers.
Caught off guard by the appearance of her former captain, Victra was immediately cautious. “Viera? Why are you here?”
“Not even a word of greeting,” the husky voice of the other elf mused. “You never were one for formalities. Or even protocol.” Victra only stared pointedly. Viera sighed. “I heard your final report when you sent it. A ringing endorsement, most surprising coming from you.” The captain studied her closely, but Victra remained silent. Viera continued, her voice low. “I was also there when we received your response to our decision.”
Victra stiffened, but continued to say nothing. She had hoped this confrontation would never come.
Viera held her gaze. “I told the others to wait, that it must have been some impulsive reaction. That you’d see the wisdom in our decision. But that never came. I told the others we had no reason to doubt your loyalties.” She paused, emotion clear on her face.
Holding her own muted emotions in check, Victra inclined her chin. “And yet, here you are.”
“Here you are!” Viera hissed. There was anger laced through her words, but it covered a deep hurt. “Nearly three decades amongst us, and you cast it all aside now, for what? A common Alerian guild? This I cannot understand.”
“Then why are you here?” Victra asked, not unkindly. “What are you hoping to hear?”
“Something that lets me understand,” Viera said, almost pleading. “I thought after all these years, after all we’ve shared and what we’ve done for you… that we might see some loyalty in return.”
“Loyalty?” Victra bristled, her voice growing dangerous. “For what, a span of time you know is just a passing moment for the eldar? Or is it that all I’ve done for you doesn’t measure up? When I stood beside you, I followed without question. And I learned much, but do not deny what I gave!”
Tense fury played across Viera’s face.
“Do not for a moment believe that this was a choice I made lightly,” Victra said, her tone softening. “But I will not second guess my decision to stand alongside Shattered Silence.” She looked up, hoping to see any hint of understanding in her former captain’s eyes.
Viera looked at her as hurt, betrayal, and anger warred across her expression. Her lip curled as she shouldered past Victra. “They can have you.”
A rare surge of strong emotion flared up in Victra. With a low growl, she stormed into the night. Her solitude gone, she turned her attention to finding an alehouse or some other retreat where she could silence the clamoring voices in her head, not trusting her meditations to bring any semblance of peace.
Victra opened her eyes and saw that the final members of Shattered Silence were gathering around the long table. She sighed, dismissing the lingering feelings, and rose to her feet to join them. There would be time enough for emotions later.
The Writer in White 