CHAPTER 3: Dark Knight

   It was quiet once the celebration had ceased.

  Guards on nightshift stood firm and still. Like statues, Lillemor thought.

Which meant she had to work in the same manner.

Silently and calmly.

She had to move, like a statue.

'But statues don't move', her mind interjected but she ignored the argument.

  In a light swift, the armored girl sneeked through corridors and secret pathways. Her figure meddling with the darkness perfectly enough not to noticed.

Once close to the window of the King's bedroom, her gloved hand held the handle of her weapon tight.

It was another gift, from Easton.

Little did he know what she planned to do with it.

It was as if destiny was bringing forth before her, everything tool she will ever need to seize her calling.

And now she was set to answer it.

She could remember the last day she had ever been in her father's room.

It was the day the oracle died.

The day they walked out of the castle best friends but came back ... ... foes.

But she didn't want to remember that day, so without taking the deep breath she planned to take, she sneaked in through the window.

Easier done than said.

  The warrior's shadow was cast over the laying figure of a sleeping old man once she halted.

She watched ... his chest rising and falling slowly, his not so loud snores being the only sound in the room.

She could have mercy, one might think. That despite the ugly, he was still her father. Her Papa ...

Her parent. He could change and maybe someday, even, as miraculous as it sounds, understand her.

Maybe he would take back his words, apologize, and call her his precious just like he always did.

But that was before the visit to the oracle.

  Now winds blew west instead of east.

Just like their unending rivalry with the Southern Kingdom, forever growing.

  She pulled her sword out slowly, letting the moonlight shine on it.

It was huge and heavy, just the way she liked it. And she could manage it, because when everyone was asleep, she spent nights practicing.

  Her reflection shone on the metal as she moved close to the bed, taking the weapon with both hands.

  No father who really loved his daughter treated them like trash.

They treated them like jewelry.

King Sedek could have an apology to make, but villains had no mercy ...

Because the devil doesn't make bargains.