Realms of Infamy

Raven's Egg

Soon I, Lord Sharven of Espar, shall attempt a most daring end to all my woes. I will not speak too plainly of my plans here; the purpose of this account is to justify my act, not to forewarn others what it might be. I wish I could be more blunt but, though I am a young man, my inheritance is vast. Because of my wealth, I have many enemies and many paid spies throughout my house. I see how they whisper in private, plotting against me as they go about their work. If I had proof of their treachery, I would kill them all. As it is, I must abide them.

Even Atera, my beloved wife, has turned against me. I cannot bear to cause her pain, so I lied and told her that there have been threats against us and placed her under guard in her chambers. She has requested no visitors save me and her aged physician, the wizard Raven of Saerloon.

Saerloon! Ah, the sound of that name-exotic, dangerous, calling to me even now. Saerloon-the place where I made my fortune. Saerloon-the place where I found my most precious possession: my wife.

My older brother had been sent to that distant city in Sembia by my father and the nobles of our humble town to forge a trade alliance with the merchants there. I'd always had a wanderlust that set me apart from my stoic friends in Espar and so asked to go along. I had expected father to refuse; he agreed readily. I rejoiced, but during the long journey east, I began to understand his indulgence toward me all too well. Gwendh, my brother, was to inherit the family estate. I could manage one of our smaller holdings, but would always be dependent on his charity unless I made a fortune of my own. If I did not, I was expendable.

As we rode into the city, I saw its wealth and its poverty Pickpockets stole almost openly from rich merchants in the crowded streets, ignoring the example of less skillful thieves, whose rotting bodies hung from the city walls to feed the crows. Nobles sported knives and swords with jeweled hilts, and even the grimiest street urchin carried a simple blade. Indeed, our first stop was to purchase daggers and swords. It galled me that Gwendh had to make the purchase for me.

I said as much as we sat in the back of a dark, smoky tavern, washing down spicy sausages with the golden local ale. "No matter. I'll make my fortune soon enough in a city such as this," I commented.

"Soon enough," Gwendh echoed and chuckled, a sound I knew too well.

"What is it?" I asked. "What have you been plotting?"

"Not me, Brother. Father has. He wants you to take a wife here in Saerloon."

"A wife!" I stared at the tavern wenches, as drunk and foul mouthed as the patrons. "Where will I find a wife in a place such as this?"

"Father's already found her," Gwendh said, then covered his ears in anticipation of my angry explosion.

Shock stole all thoughts, all words I might have said.

"Father says that her dowry is huge," Gwendh added.

"The greater the dowry, the uglier the bride," I reminded him, and we laughed together.

"You'll get to judge her soon enough," Gwendh said. "You're meeting her tonight."

"And if I despise her?"

"Her father hasn't announced the match, more for her sake than yours. She may despise you just as easily as you might her, you know."

I doubted that, but nonetheless I was thankful when Gwendh bought us each a bath. We changed into our best clothes and went to meet my arranged bride.

The house was three times the size of our family's home in Espar, and its grounds smelled as exotic as they looked. The iron fence around the house and gardens was delicately wrought with sharp points at the top, as much for beauty as to keep out intruders. The ironwork pattern repeated in the railings of the balconies and in the tall, thin spires of the house. A castle fit for faeries, I thought.

Its interior did nothing to dispel that whimsical idea. The high, arched doorway opened into a sun-drenched courtyard where pots of tall, lacy ferns shaded cages of songbirds and a bubbling fountain. A servant dressed in white and with a tall turban on his head separated Gwendh and me. Gwendh would go to speak to the father. I would remain in the courtyard.

"My mistress will be here soon," the servant said as he left me. I sat beside the fountain and watched the slow ripples move across the water's surface, hoping their languid motion would still the beating of my heart.

She came alone, walking toward me from the dark house, her flowing skirts beating against her legs. I rejoiced at her lithe form, her delicate hands. From her shy stance, with her eyes fixed on a spot somewhere near the center of my chest, I saw that she was more flustered than I by this arrangement. It occurred to me that I had also overlooked one important detail. "What is your name?" I asked.

"Atera," she replied. "You might have asked your brother." She glanced up at me for a moment. Her slanted eyes were an incredible shade of emerald green that harmonized beautifully with her honey-colored hair.

"I'm sorry." I took her hands. Her nails were painted a soft pink, the color of seashells. "Are all noble women in Saerloon so demure?"

She smiled and looked up again. "Just me," she said.

"What are the courting customs here?"

She shrugged. "They're not important."

"Sit beside me," I said.

She did as I asked. During the rest of our hour together, she relaxed a bit. I thought her far more beautiful than any of the round-cheeked girls in Espar, and I wondered how her father could give her up to a man he did not know.

But in the tendays before our wedding, I came to understand his decision. Atera had a sensitive temperament better suited to the tranquility of Espar than the constant danger of Saerloon. On our rare rides through the city, she became anxious in the crowded streets that appealed so much to me. She also gave all her coins to the crafty urchins who, dodging my discreet kicks, managed to attract her attention. Before we wed, I promised her that we would settle in my father's country. I did not say precisely when.

For though I loved her, I loved her city more.

Saerloon was a cesspit of avarice and greed, but there were fortunes to be made there. Soon I had established contacts among the thieves and assassins of the city. My family's caravans moved untouched, and my own enterprises prospered from the information and protection I bought. I increased my wife's dowry fivefold within a year.

The earnings had their price. I acquired a dueling scar on one cheek that gave my face a sinister look. My sword arm was slashed and broken in a brawl. It healed badly and I lost much of its strength. Finally, I was set upon by thugs who left me for dead. The men who found me unconscious behind a stable knew me well, but after the beating they could recognize me only by the half-moon ring on my finger. Before they returned me to my wife, they had the wisdom to demand a reward.

Because of this, days passed before I was brought home. By then the wounds on my face had begun to fester, and a fever had taken hold of me. I could see little but the tears on Atera's face as she held my hand. I also saw a gray-haired, dark-eyed man who laid compresses on the worst of my wounds and muttered some words in a strange tongue. The pain increased, bringing the relief of unconsciousness.

When I woke some days later, Atera sat at my side. As soon as she saw me looking up at her, she embraced me. "Raven tended you," she said when I asked about the man.

"Raven? The wizard?" I replied incredulously.

"He calls himself a necromancer, but is skilled in healing arts above all others. He's been my friend for as long as I can remember. Now he's proven himself my friend again." She held a mirror in front of my face. My wounds were nearly healed. I doubted they would scar.

I sent for Raven and thanked him sincerely.

"How could I not help you," he replied. "I am oathbound to do the bidding of Atera and her family. Even without an oath, I could do nothing to cause that child harm." He smeared a sweet-smelling ointment on my wounds and promised to return later to see how I was.

After that, we talked often. I found him to be powerful and willing to teach his skill. I'd always had a fascination for magic and the might it imparted, so I went to my father-in-law and asked to have Raven put in my employ.

"I intend to send him to Espar with you when you go," he responded. "He's been Atera's physician and friend for so long that I wouldn't want her to leave my house without him."

I smiled. Though I still held out the promise of Espar to him as to Atera, I had no intention of keeping it. Power, wealth, and now, vengeance, were foremost on my mind.

My spies soon learned the names of the men who had attacked me. My assassins were quick and deadly. As for the jealous merchants who had paid to have me assaulted, Raven devised a fitting poison, one that caused oozing sores that healed slowly, leaving deep and painful blood-red pock-marks. They died by their own hands soon after.

Ah, the intrigues of Saerloon! Such a magnificent city, so magnificently suited to my tastes.

But some months later, fate determined that I would have to go home. My father died. My brother soon followed.

With Raven and hired guards to protect my fortune, I reluctantly brought my bride to Espar.

I found the land much changed. True, the fields were as green as always, the forests as dark and thick. But beneath the plodding rhythm of Espar's sleepy life, I sensed evil, hiding just out of sight, an evil as deadly as any in Saerloon.

The local nobles were curious about my life in Sembia and anxious to meet Atera. In the first days after we came home, we were invited to a homecoming feast held by my neighbor, Lord Romul. Romul had been an old friend of my father's. I had grown up with his children and spent many happy hours roaming his lands. Nonetheless, I felt an instinctive wariness.

There were plotters everywhere, I reminded myself. With a beautiful wife and vast wealth, I was a prime target.

As I entered Romul's house, I heard the whispers of the other guests. I thought at first that they were commenting on the beauty of my bride. Later, I realized that they whispered about me. I had been scarred and my arm maimed, but I sensed that their muttering meant more than that. I stood aside from the others, saying little while I watched protectively over Atera; she moved among them like a kitten, full of trust and happiness.

In the month that followed, I kept up my guard at the local festivals and remained tight-lipped about my business. As I expected, once everyone realized they would learn nothing of value from me, Atera and I were silently ostracized. Only Lord Romul and his wife, Laudrel, invited us back to their estate.

At our second meeting, I bluntly asked Romul why he felt such concern for me.

"Concern!" Romul laughed. "I recall your childhood well, Sharven. You were always one of my favorites. I am pleased to count you as a friend."

"Good," I responded. "Atera has been so lonely here."

"May I speak bluntly?" Romul asked.

I nodded.

"You changed much in Saerloon. I am not speaking of your wounds, either, for a man's face means nothing. Your bride is lovely and everyone speaks well of her. But if you wish to gain acceptance, you must be less suspicious of your neighbors. You've been gone some time. People are wondering what you are hiding to make you so nervous."

"I hide nothing!" I retorted.

"You gave me leave to speak," he reminded me gently. "This is a peaceful land, Sharven. These are simple people. Remember that."

He wanted me to think so. Indeed, for a time I tried to take his advice. I understood his motives soon enough.

We exchanged breeding cattle to strengthen our herds. His appeared healthy, but as soon as they mixed with mine, my herd fell ill with a strange disease. Mine died. His were less ill, and recovered. I sent an angry note to Lord Romul.

He came immediately and rode my fields with me. I kept up with difficulty, using my good arm to guide my horse. Eventually he pointed out clumps of speargrass on the edges of the fence lines.

"Have your fieldhands move your herds more often so they stay clear of that weed," he said. "It slowly poisons an animal if too much is eaten."

"Your cattle didn't die," I reminded him.

"Speargrass is a mild poison. My ranges are clear of it, so the poison wouldn't have built up in them. Still, I can't be certain the grass was the cause, so I'm willing to bear some of the loss. Come pick another dozen cows from my herd."

And have the fever kill the rest! I railed inwardly. To him I stiffly replied, "I'd rather settle in coin."

"You'd be wiser to rebuild your stock," he began, then, seeing the resolution in my expression, became resigned. "Perhaps you weren't meant for the country life," he said wearily and agreed to all my terms.

While Romul and I had been riding, Atera had visited with Lady Laudrel. When we joined them, I saw that Atera's face was flushed, her eyes bright. "I don't think I've ever laughed this hard," she said to me as we went in to dine.

Throughout the meal, Romul entertained Atera with tales of the hills and forests around Espar. I'd never seen her listen so intently to my stories, or laugh as pleasantly at my jests. It seemed that Romul did his best to charm her.

I mentioned this to Raven the following night. "Old men long for youth," he said. "However, I have never heard Atera speak of Lord Romul as anything more than friend-or of you as anything less than well-loved husband."

"What Romul feels may be equally important."

Raven did not reply. He was right to be silent. This was a matter between me and my wife.

I confronted her in the morning. She appeared genuinely distressed by my suspicions. "Lord Romul and his wife are the only people we ever see," she retorted. 'They've been kind to me. I think highly of him, but nothing more."

"Are you certain that's the only way you think of him?"

Atera did something quite unexpected. She slapped me and stormed from the room. I heard her call for a servant. Some time later, I saw her ride off alone, galloping north through the fields on the bay mare she had brought from Saerloon. North-the direction to Lord Romul's lands.

The money from Lord Romul arrived just after highsun, along with a note inviting Atera and me for yet another visit. Seething at the gall of a man who would seduce my wife under my very nose, I returned to my library and laid the note on the table.

Atera did not return until evening. She did not explain or apologize for her absence. That night, when I went to her chamber door, I found it locked.

"If that's the way you wish it, stay in there!" I bellowed through the door. I ordered the servants to bar it so she could not leave. After overseeing the work, I went to my library. There I fell asleep trying to make sense out of some old and incomplete instructions for turning copper into gold.

A strange rustling woke me, as if the pages of the books on the shelves around me had somehow come alive. Even the closed book on which my head rested vibrated at my touch. Fearful of what I might find, I opened it.

Bookworms! A dozen of them feasted on the pages of the text, their tiny bodies the same parchment shade as their meal. I shook them to the floor. Their color hastily changed to that of the flagstones, and they scattered as I stomped on them. When I'd killed as many as I could find, I moved to the shelves where hundreds were devouring my other texts. I shook them free of each text, stomping them as soon as they hit the floor. Soon the flags were slimy with crushed bodies. Yet the hungry horde continued its destruction.

Words gone. Knowledge gone. The power of that knowledge gone! Mere wealth could not repair my loss.

"Raven!" I screamed. "Raven come here!"

As I turned back to the shelf nearest the wall, I glanced out the window and saw smoke rising from the stables, servants rushing to beat out the blaze. They were too late. When the doors opened, the fire flared. I heard the whinnies of the horses, the pounding of their hooves against their paddock doors, the cries of the stablehands. If I hadn't problems enough in the library, I would have gone to help.

As Raven and I labored to save the books, I saw Lord Romul's note lying on the floor. When I picked it up, it crumbled in my hand.

"Could he have sent bookworm eggs?" I asked Raven.

The wizard nodded. Hours later, after we had salvaged what we could, I went outside to see the ruins of my stables. Only three mounts had managed to escape the fire. Atera's bay mare was one of them.

"Quite a coincidence, don't you think?" I asked Raven as we examined the burns on the horse's left flank. I spoke coldly, finally convinced that all my suspicions were true.

"The mare was lucky," Raven responded. "I'm glad for Atera's sake."

"But suppose it wasn't luck. Suppose Atera is a part of the plot and would not let her mount be harmed," I insisted.

He paused before speaking, weighing his words carefully, "Atera loves you. Yet, there are ways in which she could be made unfaithful against her will," he said.

"Ensorceled! Yes, that must be it. She certainly hasn't been herself since we returned to Espar." I felt suddenly glad I had guards at her door. "Raven, what can I do to end these plots?" I thought of the pockmarked merchants and felt a thrill of excitement I hadn't experienced since Saer-loon.

His words disappointed me. "I am not certain. Let me consider it," he said. "In the meantime, write Lord Romul and tell him you accept his invitation."

"Of course! I must go see firsthand if he is gloating over my loss."

I penned a cordial reply, then took it to Atera. As she read my words, I told her that jealousy had turned me into an idiot. "I could never really doubt you," I said. "Forgive me."

Tears came to her beautiful eyes. She embraced me. Our reconciliation was long and satisfying.

The visit to Lord Romul accomplished everything I'd hoped for. He and his wife had arranged a magnificent meal, even hired some local musicians to play through the dinner. I tried to appear relaxed as I waited for some clue as to why the nobleman had become my enemy.

I discovered the cause after the meal, when he took me aside to speak to me privately. "Before your brother died, we had discussed the sale of your north fields that border my own grazing area. Since your livestock is so decimated and you have no interest in rebuilding the herd, I thought you might want to sell it to me," he explained.

Decimated livestock! Yes, he'd seen to that! "My father always said land is more precious than gold," I noted evenly.

He looked at me oddly. "So it is. But land is a tool like any other. It has to be used to be of any real value."

"I'll keep it," I responded, my tone convincing him I would not reconsider. "Now, if you don't mind, I think Atera and I should leave."

"I meant no offense, Sharven. I'm sorry if you misunderstood me."

"No offense was taken. It's just such a long ride back," I responded as pleasantly as I was able.

I hid my anger from Atera as well as I had from Lord Romul, venting it only when I was safely in Raven's chambers. "It's my land Romul wants," I told him.

Raven's long black robe brushed the floor as he paced. I'd never seen him so animated. "That's hardly a surprise. Now, we must determine what to do about his schemes."

We read well into the night. Eventually I suggested a plan so audacious that no one in Espar would ever suspect my hand in it I went to Atera and instructed her to send word to all our neighbors that we were holding a feast and wanted everyone to attend.

"Sharven, thank you!" she exclaimed and kissed me.

Atera penned invitations all evening and sent the servants out with them in the morning. Most of the estates sent immediate acceptances.

While Atera worked with the seamstresses, the cooks, and the house servants, Raven and I read through our remaining books, preparing everything I needed for my revenge. Now we are prepared, and the party is at hand.

I have written what I can. Later, after I have dealt with my foes and my woes are over, I will finish this account.

It is difficult now to write, though the memories of my carefully orchestrated vengeance still burn clearly in my mind. And though it will take some time for me to capture all the events on paper, I will do so____________________

The pigs and fowl for our feast were turning slowly on their spits when I knocked on Raven's door. Inside his room, with its scrolls and ancient tomes, its vials of herbs and exotic incense, I claimed the magic he had prepared.

I pocketed the love potion for Atera, then held out my hand for the other, darker magic we had discussed. He gave me a tiny blood-red egg, so light it seemed hollow. I looked doubtfully at it. "Are you certain?"

"Swallow it whole, as I instructed," he said. "The shell will dissolve inside of you, and the creature will merge with your body."

Now that I was actually going to eat the thing, I found myself more concerned about its nature. "What precisely is it?" I asked.

"A dark spirit summoned here from the nether-realms to do exactly what you requested: destroy your worst enemy."

"A dark spirit." What little I knew about supernatural creatures made me less certain I should go through with this.

"Your victim will feel his life slowly drained by a force he cannot see."

Exactly the sort of end for Romul that I'd demanded! I swallowed the egg with great care, then sat and waited.

For some minutes I felt nothing. However just as I was about to voice my disappointment, something lurched deep within me, and the terrible power of the creature I had consumed exploded in my body. I bellowed in an inhuman voice, then lifted a massive oak chair with my weak arm and flung it against the wall. The wood splintered. The pieces scattered. My sight became keener, my hearing painfully acute. A rage such as I had never felt before took hold of me. I, and the monster within me, were ready for the kill.

The potency of the dark spirit made me uneasy. "If anyone in Espar detects sorcery, I will be an outcast in my own land," I reminded Raven, astonished at the force and strange hollowness of my voice.

"When the creature is released, it will be visible to you only. Even Lord Romul will not see it, though he will certainly feel its effects. He is an old man. If he dies during the duel, no one will think it odd. And you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you have indeed killed your greatest enemy."

With difficulty, I softened my tone to a hoarse whisper. "And if my greatest enemy is someone else?" I asked.

"Do you suspect anyone else?" he asked with some concern.

I shook my head.

"Then look at me."

I did as he asked. In a moment he began the final chant, ending with, "I charge the spirit that dwells within this man-when this human shell is cut and your host's blood is spilled, you will be released. Seek out Lord Sharven's worst enemy. Enter that body and drain its life, but do not destroy the spirit. Instead let the ghost of Lord Sharven's foe walk these halls forever, an impotent observer of all that happens here. When your task is finished, depart this place and return to your own nightmarish abode."

I listened to the words with great satisfaction, for they gave voice to the essence of my revenge. For the rest of our days, Lord Romul's ghost would watch Atera and me together. I could think of no more fitting end for his treachery.

Once Raven had finished his spell, I practiced walking with my new strength. When I thought it safe, I took the potion to Atera.

I had never seen her look so magnificent. Her long thick hair was braided with multicolor scarves. The black bodice of her gown gave way to skirts of the same rainbow hues as in her hair. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation of the gathering.

The creature inside me raged, trying to escape my body -prompted not by anger, but by lust. Such was the beauty of my wife at that moment.

"Would you share some wine with me?" I asked her, my voice trembling as I fought to keep it soft.

"Sharven, you sound so strange. Are you all right? If you're ill we can-"

"No, not ill, just excited. After all, this is my first feast as head of the estate." I kept my back to her as I slipped the potion into her goblet, then poured our wine. I watched her carefully to be certain she drank it all.

By then, the first of our guests had arrived. I went down to join them, Atera walking joyfully at my side.

As we greeted our guests, the potion began to do its work. Atera's face flushed, and her voice grew high and sharp. "She's a bit anxious, but I think the wine did more than relax her," I confided to one of the guests. I heard him repeat the comment to his wife. Soon the entire room assumed Atera was already tipsy.

Lord Romul and Lady Laudrel were among the last to enter the hall. As Atera went to greet them, I hung back. I could not get too close, not with the beast inside me looking through my eyes at my enemy, demanding to be released.

Some time later, Atera and I took our places at the table's center. Lord Romul sat to Atera's right, then Lady Laudrel. After all her planning of the evening's feast, Atera only picked at the food. Her attention became, as the potion directed, fixed on Lord Romul. Soon she seemed openly infatuated. I pretended not to notice, not even when her hand disappeared from the table, resting no doubt in his lap. A few of the guests near us began to whisper to one another.

The farce could not continue much longer. I gave the signal and the music began. I asked Lady Laudrel to dance.

Lord Romul would give too great an insult if he refused to ask Atera. Red-faced and cautious, he led her onto the floor. As I danced with the stout Laudrel, I watched Atera and Romul carefully. She pressed close to him, whispered in his ear. I saw his confusion. No, he had never expected his conquest to act so boldly.

With a firm grip on Atera's arm, Romul led her back to the table. She pulled him beyond it to the tapestry that hung from the wall. In spite of the shadows, I and a number of others saw her kiss him. I pushed Laudrel aside so roughly that she would have fallen had someone not caught her.

"What is the meaning of this!" I bellowed.

Laudrel followed my gaze. She saw her husband's embarrassment, heard Atera's startled cry. "Your wife is… not well," Romul said.

"Well enough to kiss you. Is this the first time or only the most obvious of many?"

My guests began muttering. Most sided with me. Others, seeing Romul's confusion, were not so certain of his guilt Laudrel began to cry.

"She is gone from the house far too often, and when she rides, she always heads north," I went on.

"To visit me," Laudrel mumbled. Atera, fighting the effects of the potion, nodded. No one paid any attention to either woman. Fine people that they were, my guests were eager for blood to spill.

"I demand satisfaction," I said. "I will defend the honor of my wife!"

I saw his resignation, yet still he attempted to placate me. "Your wife is ill, I tell you. And your sword arm is weak. Isn't there some other way to settle this?"

"Honor will make me strong." I heard the murmur of my neighbors. Most were pleased at my response.

Romul sighed. "Very well. But you must loan me a blade. I brought none."

I surveyed the crowd. There must be no hint of treachery in our duel. "Does someone have a blade for Lord Romul?"

Five were offered. As I expected in one his age, he picked a light, thin sword more geared for fencing than battle. One of the other men offered me a similar weapon; I took it. There would be no accusations of poison when this was done.

We squared off in the center of the hall, where only moments ago we had been dancing. As metal met metal, I felt the strength of Raven's minion. I could win the battle at any time. Instead, I fought down the urge to attack and moved stiffly, as if the very act of holding the sword pained me.

In his youth, Lord Romul had acquired a deadly reputation with a blade. He had not lost the skill. Were it not for my terrible inner speed and strength, he would have bested me easily. However, he continued to maintain the ruse of reluctant victim, parrying my more deadly thrusts, letting the others reach him. No doubt he hoped I would shed the first blood and, honor satisfied, call off the duel.

When I nicked his shoulder, I saw real fear in his eyes. His face was florid and sweat formed on his brow. Exertion could kill the old as easily as a knife. I counted on that excuse. I smiled. Yes, you fool. Yes, you perverter of my wife, coveter of my lands. Yes, old man, as soon as my skin is cut, you will die.

I forced him back to the dining table, then in a move no one could have expected, I deliberately fell against him. My arm sliced open on the edge of his blade.

The shell was cracked. The creature inside me departed with the first drop of my blood, taking all its strength with it. "Have you had enough?" I heard Lord Romul whisper as I lay at his feet, too exhausted to move, barely able to breathe.

I looked up. I wanted to whisper that it would never be over, but words failed me as I saw the thing I had unleashed.

Black and formless as the clouds of a deadly storm, its only clear features were its huge red eyes, which smoldered with a predatory light. The creature examined Lord Romul, standing with his sword lowered, looking less like an enemy than a concerned father who had unwittingly wounded his son during training.

It looked at Atera, trembling as she stood at the head of the table, frightened of me, of Romul, of the strange impulses within her brought on by the potion.

It looked at Raven. I think perhaps Raven lied to me. I think he saw the spirit; its summoning was his doing, after all.

And finally it turned to me. Its expression became one of interest, of need. Raven had said it killed with its touch and the power of its gaze. I tried to look away and found I could not. I tried to move but was paralyzed. "I'm not responsible!" I screamed. Though I knew I damned myself, I had to say the words, "You were charged to protect me. Now, kill my enemy."

It obeyed.

The blackness of its form rolled over me. A deadly weight pushed down on me. My heart fluttered, my body became cold.

"Sharven!" Atera shrieked. She tried to rush to my side, but Raven held her back. Her tears were genuine, and the grief tore at my soul. I would have apologized for all my wrongs had I not already been robbed of the power to speak.

And through the unblinking eyes of one already dead, I saw Raven move behind Atera and gently pull her away from my body, holding her as she sobbed uncontrollably. I saw his expression as he looked over her shoulder at me- one of triumph. He had won. And suddenly he appeared much younger than I'd believed him to be.

But then, there are spells for youth as well as strength.

I thought of his remarks to me, and understood their meaning for the first time. Yet, the creature he had conjured for me had done exactly what I had demanded-it had found my worst enemy and it had killed. Now my spirit remains.

Raven required no spells to make Atera love him, though he did give her one to soften her grief over my demise. I do not hate him for that; there are many more valid reasons for hate.

I stood in the hall with the other guests and watched him wed my wife. I went into the bridal chamber, and after, with fury to give me strength, I went into the little room where I had studied with Raven. Though it took tremendous effort, I have managed to put pen to parchment and finish this account.

Perhaps Atera will one day read it. More likely Raven will find it first and destroy it. If so, I will set the words down again, as often as I must.

Even petty revenge is sweet Raven will never rest easy in my house.