-Closed to Slayer of the Rot-

Night came with cruelty and beauty to Raiaera. The setting sun turned the crimson canopies of the Red Forest to fire, and when it set, it was as if the infernos of hell had gone to sleep as well. Skie'd been given a bird's eye view, as well. She struck at Kross' shoulders and neck with her elbows and tried in futility to kick him. She'd screamed against the obsidian gag he'd bound her mouth with, and in the end she might as well have been nothing more than a fly to bat at him. Her tears fell on deaf ears, her efforts all for nothing. She thought often about Godhand, Kahlina and Lillian. The Obsidian Tower was a fortress, but for more than one villain and hero it had made a formidable tomb as well.

She was tired, angry enough to think about striking at Kross' wings. That would have been silly, though. If she did manage to damage them, she would fall to the ground as surely as he would, and her ability to fly had been stripped of her as surely as her pheremones had. Now she regretted so much, but none so much as not having stayed in Concordia. This cursed land of Raiaera had given her so many unfortunate encounters, and had she never come under the possession of Griffin, she'd never have betrayed her brother, or done the unthinkable to earn her title and abilities as Moontae stripped away.

Now she turned to the neckband as comfort, the only metal she knew to be of any use aside from the sword at her side. Griffin, I'm in trouble! she sent, hoping and praying the warrior could come to her aide. He'd never been bothered in battle before, and surely someone as strong as he could swat Kross aside as if he were a mere insect? But the minutes passed, Kross shifted her on his shoulder, and she never heard so much as a whisper from her slave master. Had he fallen in battle? If he had, she was both free and doomed.

Kross shifted again, and though it was dark, Skie felt a tug at the pit of her stomach. They were falling, though not as if shot out of the sky. Instead, she craned her neck around, gasping against the gag. Firelight and movement was coming closer, banners and tents coming into view and growing larger as they approached from the sky. For a moment she wondered if Kross would land into an enemy camp. He was arrogant enough to do it, and she knew Raiaera had strength fighting for her.

Her hopes, however, were dashed in the blink of an eye. The wind picked up and a banner cracked and flared in the breeze, unfurling to show her the sigil that she'd been staring upside-down at on Kross' back the entire trip. He was taking her to the necromancer's camp. The hungry look of zombies made her cry out against the obsidian against her mouth, curl tighter against her captor. She'd always assumed that when she died, she'd go out with a fighting chance.

Instead, she was being offered as a sacrifice to the gods who brought Daedeloth to the Elven homeland.