Salvan nights were long and dark, a requirement for the arctic climate. The bitter cold kept even the most hardened indoors at its worst during the twilight hours. The few that still walked the compound either pursued entertainment or fulfilled their duty as watchmen or guards. The majority of the watch posted themselves along the large pinewood wall. Obviously, they were to keep a lookout on the treeline for movement. Humans, sure, but the Crawlers as well. Around this time of day, their lanterns would dance in the thickness of the woods. It often reminded me of the bugs in the Coronian forests, but significantly more deadly. It took a keen eye to discern the difference from their artificial light and the natural flicker of a flame. Knowing their attentions would be focused on whether or not a glow in the forest was this or that, it gave me the luxury of free movement in the shadows.

One man propped himself against the post that kept the thatched roof above him. His arms crossed leisurely over his chest to keep him warm and a small iron pick worked between what was left of his teeth. I can only assume his thoughts wandered as he peered out into the treeline. He was far from his bow and blade. The lack of weight on his shoulders and waist would be welcomed as he relaxed. I didn't know him. Some faceless conscript likely banned from Knife's Edge for one unsavory act or another. Maybe a man who initially invested himself in the idea of stripping those in power of their false entitlement? Either way, I would reflect on him later: the first.

Oh, how I relish that tuft of warm breath in the cold. You can see it - the vitality, life. Not just breath either but blood as well. My hand reached up from the cloak of night and covered the muffled cry of discomfort certain to escape his lips. My blade of war slipped between his ribs smoother than into its own scabbard. Through the lung and into the heart, I could tell my steel hit home when the blade's tendency to drink blood couldn't keep up with the amount frantically being pumped along the groove in its spine. And there it was, that visible wisp of vitality lifting off the small spill on the floorboards.

I wanted to see it through, the final light that fades from the eyes, but time was a scarce resource tonight. I'd seen enough of death's whispers that this one, the first, wouldn't look much different. I pulled him against my chest. He griped the hand around his mouth with one arm and I felt the jab of his other elbow prodding my ribs. I felt mild discomfort, not from his attempts to break free, but as my bones shifted form and skewered him via impromptu iron maiden. There are 24 ribs in the human body. All of them were now also in his which quickly took the fight out of him. They retracted, I returned a well fed blade to its scabbard, and slowly lowered the first to rest. Not out of respect for him per se, but for that of the stillness in the air. I had more work to do, afterall.