The Black Steel

The attack.
The dangers to Nimraph.
Glandaron.
Survivor's guilt.
Monster's guilt.
Attack.
Nimraph.
Glandaron.
Guilt.
Egfor's hurt.
Attack.
Nimraph.
Mordor
Guilt.
Not worth it.
Attack.
Nimraph.
Ristiinna deserves better.
Not worth it.
Guilt.
Attack.
Angmar
Egfor-

Nmraph-

Guilt

Not w-
Guilt.

She awoke from a cold, deep sleep. It was like finally emerging from ice cold waters after staying under. No dreams had blessed her, no nightmares had plagued her. She was in a bedroom at the Huntsman and the Stag. Immediately, she remembered what had happened last night. The attack. She and Nimraph were running today. It was still dark out, peering through the window. Eira looked to the corner to see Nimraph slumped in a chair, fast asleep. Guilt lectured her, he had worse injuries than her! He needed the bed!

The letter arrived a week after the Rethe celebrations in Hamglen. The stern reason of her mother transpired through her words, interspersed with her very own hot temper. Zavas’ ears began to turn red as he turned the pages and yet he could not help laughing either.

Somewhere between Breeland and Lone-lands

The cold wind licked the earth and shook the burnt banners and tents that remained standing. The once great fort now stood abandoned and even colder than it was, it also seemed scarier and darker, but it was the only place that the tribesmen could camp on their journey. They were all huddled between the burnt buildings at a distance from the gates.

The Aftermath

A Serviceable Weapon