Chapter 14

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Arhyvhynne had returned to the disorienting fog of the tunnels. Before her, seated upon a throne was a grey robed figure. In fact, everything about the figure was grey: her hair, skin, eyes, even the lips. Enshrouded by the heavy, swirling mists, it was almost difficult to tell where the fog left off and the woman began. The woman looked old beyond words. "Who are you?" asked Arhyvhynne.

"I am Qhen Rhyvhelle," the apparition said to her. Legend had her as one of the original grey robes who had devised the Trials.

Without taking her eyes off the brigand, Eyrmysse took the dagger. She then turned and walked up to the securely tied merchant who was propped up in the corner. Zhevyk whispered, "Cut the ropes, we can escape together." Eyrmysse smiled and, with a cruel gleam in her eyes, cut Zhevyk's leggings, grabbed his genitals and hacked at them with the dagger. The merchant could only manage one long scream as he gawked first at Eyrmysse and then at the bloody cavity before he dropped heavily to the floor.

Arhyvhynne kneeled before the throne and bowed her head. "I am not worthy to be in your presence."

"You are more than worthy child. Rise, there is much that must transpire in the imminent future concerning yourself and the wizard."

Arhyvhynne stood, wisps of fog floating past her. "Uriel?"

"It is he I speak of. He will have great need of you and upon you he will depend. However, the Path Uriel walks is perilous. Do you choose to accompany him?"

"Even should it mean your life?"

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