Sadë's hunt had brought her to Frost Gale, and she was out for blood.

She had been tailing a group of vampiric henchmen for quite some time now, following them as they traded secrets in disclosed locations and ran errands like lap dogs. It's pitiful. She had been following them across the western mountains of the Dragon's Cradle, and had quickly grown tired of the treacherous terrain and unpredictable weather. Her life was always on the go, but a part of her never got used to certain biomes. While Frost Gale was nowhere close to the weather in the south of Charon, it was a break, to say the least. One in particular seemed to act as a leader of the group, ordering the other two around to often do the dirty work, likely following orders from their master. These vampires were under the command of the very man Sadë had sworn to destroy: Ekar. The thought of his name sent a wave of rage throughout her body, but the twinge of fear still lingered along her spine. A fear that drove her mad, and reminded her of the very reason she was after him in the first place. She had never felt so powerless, and vowed to never be that powerless ever again. When she thought of her life before she fell, she could only describe herself as painfully weak. A masochistic necromancer with a hunger for power, one that he passed on to Sadë. A deep yearning for revenge still echoed in her heart, never to be satisfied until she is the one to take his very last breath. She dreamed of the day he would be the one gasping for air under her boot. The thought excited her, but there was no time for that now.

Her eyes were fixed on the shorter one from the group branching off from the other two. A vampire alone was much easier than a vampire with friends, and she would take any chance she would get. They were clothed in a thick fur coat that reached down to their ankles. Hunting those under a vampiric curse was no easy task, their accelerated speed and heightened strength. At times, Sadë was jealous of the power they possessed, and she used this to push herself even harder. She was to be even greater, no matter the cost. She listened to the clicking of the heel of her boot against the slated cobblestone, isolating the sound. The buildings all around her were lined with intricate buttressings and dark stone. Sharp, pointed arches decorated the darkened sky above her, but they became increasingly harder to make out as snow began to trickle down from the clouds, as did the streets in front of her. The silhouette of the vampire appeared to float down the walkway, moving with grace. Sadë followed a decent distance behind, her gaze fixed.

However, this gradually became harder as the snow continued to rain down above. It began to fall in dense clouds, blurring her vision. She could still make out the shape of the figure, but with one quick movement, they had rounded a corner. She instantly started into a sprint, a fierceness behind every step. She wasn’t going to lose them. She couldn’t. As she came to the edge of the building she peaked around to see nothing. Her head twitched as it snapped around in every direction, looking for a sight to grab onto. She wasn't one to let her prey out of her sight, let alone one to let them get away unscathed. Her eyes darted around rapidly, transfixing on another silhouette seen through the snow. They stood at the end of empty market street, heading in the direction of an alleyway. They looked bulked up, as if wearing a thick coat, and Sadë took this as enough incentive to make a move.

As the figure reached the arched alley, Sadë had dashed close enough behind them to grab their shoulder, and whip them around to face her. She pressed their back into the wall with her legs crouched and her ingrained stake raised. Her eyes were wild, the smoke in her iris whipping around in every direction. She was hungry for a kill, and was disappointed when the person in front of her was not a vampire at all, but a tiefling with large purple horns tucked under their dazzling fur coat. Their eyes were wide open, shock plastered across their entire face that quickly turned to fear as they eyed the stake pointed scarily close to their heart, and yet, a smirk grew.

"Is that a stake or are you just happy to see me?"

Pardon?

Are they being serious right now?

For a moment, all she could do was stare. She leaned in closer to the tiefling, reading their features. Their hair was pinned up under their coat, tiny pieces falling onto their face in a scarily perfect way. The tiefling's expression was almost animated, as if a character in a storybook.

Enough. This didn't matter. What mattered was that she had lost the vampire she was tracking. She shoved them away in frustration, pushing them further against the wall behind them. She had made a mistake, an idiotic and amateur mistake. She lowered the stake and clicked it back onto her belt.

“If that was your idea of a joke, it was a poor one.” Her voice was cold and deep, a strange, but faint, melodic tone behind it that didn’t suit her external looks. A part of her couldn’t help but be amused at the tiefling’s odd reaction, but her frustration took the forefront of her emotions. She had no intentions of staying to chat, nor was she in the mood for it. She turned her body away from the tiefling and set off once more, but their voice calling out from behind stopped her. She took a deep breath...

Morrigan hated the cold.

Frostgale was a far cry from Zeinav, a bustling metropolis constantly shifting and changing under the scorching sun. The weather was harsh, yes, but the desert’s inhabitants had learned to live with the heat, and constantly found ways to stay cool. They fashioned their clothes out of breathable material and used wrappings to cover their heads. Morrigan in particular often wore loose coats that let the breeze through, and that did the trick just fine. The heat made sense.

Snow, on the other hand, did not.

Morrigan was only in Frostgale in search of a rare plant for a particular elixir that had been requested by a client. This herb only grew in the snow-capped isolated mountains of Frostgale, and as such, was quite difficult to obtain in Zeinav. The tiefling had decided to take a trip up north and replenish their stock themselves. What they had not expected was the biting chill that could not be protected against by their existing wardrobe. In their second day in the Pale City, Morrigan caved, and finally purchased a fine fur coat from a trader that tried to upsell it to them until Morrigan smiled sweetly at him and talked the price down.

They had to admit, the material was worth the chunk of Solars Morrigan spent on it. The coat was comfortable, and did a good job keeping the snow off of them as they wandered the streets in search of a tavern and a warm drink. Their hair, for once, was delicately pulled up, out of their face as their eyes aimlessly drifted across the different shops. The snow made it difficult to see, though Morrigan wasn’t especially bothered, hands tucked in their pockets as they walked at a relaxed pace.

Perhaps that was why they didn’t notice someone following them until they were harshly grabbed and whirled around to face a woman with madness in her eyes and teeth bared back in a wicked snarl. Nails dug into their shoulder as the haunting beauty- for she could only be described as such- shoved them against a wall and pointed a stake directly at their heart.

Morrigan should have been afraid.

And yet.

They couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as they met her gaze, sharp brow furrowed as a myriad of expressions danced across her face. Whatever bloodlust she’d held only moments ago fizzled away into confusion, though her glare remained sharp as ever. Morrigan’s eyes flicked downwards to the stake, then back up at her.

Their lips parted in a smile. When they spoke, their voice had a lilting accent that was difficult to place.

"Is that a stake or are you just happy to see me?"

There was a beat of silence, before-

“If that was your idea of a joke, it was a poor one.” The woman practically snarled before releasing her grip, promptly spinning around and stomping off. Despite her anger, her voice still held a lyrical quality to it, one that reverberated with power. Just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone, retreating into the thick blanket of snow, off in search of whatever she had been looking for.

Morrigan should have been annoyed at the sudden intrusion, but they found themselves intrigued. Restraint and common sense had never been their strong suit- they plunged headfirst into whatever interested them. And she was, by far, the most intriguing thing Morrigan had found thus far in Frostgale.

The tiefling picked up their pace, hurrying after the tall woman. From here they could only make out her ebony hair, standing out like a stain on the white backdrop. Unsurprisingly, she was fast for someone of her stature, and moved like a predator that had caught the scent of her next meal. Morrigan wanted to know more.

“Excuse me, if you’re going to drag me into an alley and tease me with adventure, I believe I’m owed at least an explanation, yes?”

Sadë closed her eyes for a moment as she breathed. She stood with her back towards the tiefling.

"'Owe' is an interesting choice of word," she replied, cracking her knuckles out in front of her. She had hoped that the stranger would let the situation go, and allow her to continue on with whatever it was they thought she was up to. But this one...they possessed a dangerous sense of curiosity. If Sadë were, for example, one of the vampire's that she was hunting, this tiefling would be drained of every ounce of blood in their body until the lilac in their skin was nothing but a dull, dead gray. She could've been a psychopathic murderer roaming the dark streets for her next prey, or a shadow thief in need of a few more coin. From the way she had introduced herself, any person would have fled immediately, scared for their lives.

Not them.

"If an explanation is what you want, then you'll have it." She turned to face the purple tiefling, a wry smile on her face. "I mistook you for someone else, that is all. There is no adventure to be had here. I apologize for the troubles.”

She almost went to leave once more when the tiefling began to laugh. Not laugh, giggle. They were certainly all the more charmed by this situation than Sadë. She eyed them once more, only this time, focusing on the entirety of their appearance. The fur coat they wore was much nicer than many of those seen worn by any passersby on a stroll, a certain richness and density within the fur. Under the snowflakes, it came together in silky groups, where as faux fur had a habit of clumping and matting. She could recognize nobler fashion anywhere, seeing as she grew up adorned in it. They appeared out of place and from the looks of them, they were not from around here. She stepped towards them. 

“Do I amuse you, traveler?” She was standing much closer now, her neck craned down to look at them. They were much shorter than her, and Sadë couldn’t help but be grateful for her height. She enjoyed being the one to be looked up at because of her sheer size. She commanded attention and basked in the stares. “You’re not as clever as you might hold yourself to be. You don’t want any part in what I am doing, and it's best for the both of us if you just run along. And besides, we wouldn’t want your coat, nor that enchanting face of yours to be damaged, now would we?” Her bottom lip stuck out as she glared down at them.

The click of fine shoes striking the stone pathway came to a halt as the lady stopped, giving Morrigan a chance to catch up to her. If they held a modicum of self-preservation, they would have given pause at the sound of bone popping while she cracked her knuckles. Idly, Morrigan wondered if she was gearing up to punch them- it would not be the time such a thing had happened to the tiefling, though they doubted any would be as memorable.

However, she simply turned around, a smile of amusement plastered on her darkened lips, and delivered a small platitude that she doubtlessly thought would dissuade Morrigan of their folly.

Morrigan couldn’t help but laugh. What an interesting lie!

“Do I amuse you, traveler?”

Morrigan had to tilt their head to properly look at her. They rocked on their heels, debating whether they should stand on their toes to give themselves a little more height. There was denying that her presence carried weight, and her gown- high collared and adorned in accents of crimson- gave off the appearance of a woman who expected respect.

No. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say she commanded it.

They tilted their head, tail flicking behind them. “You claim there is no adventure to be had, and yet, I can’t help but wonder if you greet all of your acquaintances with a weapon to the heart.” The two were so close now that they were nearly touching, an intimidation tactic on her part. It would have worked if she had selected any other unlucky target out on the streets wearing a similar heavy jacket, it might have worked. Unfortunately for her, rationality often did not help when it came to dealing with Morrigan. “So you will have to forgive me if I take offense to being mistaken for someone that you’d planned to murder with that pretty little toy there.”

They pointed to the stake secured firmly on her belt. An odd weapon, only used when one was hunting a very specific type of prey. “You seek a vampire?” They mused.

Morrigan was certain that she was being dismissive when she mentioned their attire and their face, but the tiefling couldn’t help but give her a coy smile in response. Maybe they would have even asked if she really believed their face was enchanting, but her patience was wearing thin, and if Morrigan asked that, they were certain she would either abandon them or pull out that stake and finish what she’d started only moments ago.

Instead, they fixed her with a look that was surprisingly sharp for someone who, thus far, had only acted flippant and irreverent with their own life in the face of this predator.

“I think I ought to be the judge of what’s best for me, don’t you agree?” Without waiting for a response, they set off in the same direction that the lady had been heading off in, an unspoken declaration that she would not rid herself of them so easily. “I have carried many titles over my life, though storyteller is one of my favorite. I am an entertainer, always in search of the next curiosity for my collection.” They paused, thoughtful. “But what, my fine lady of the dusk, are you?”

There’s no use. This tiefling was like a leech, and they had certainly latched on with an everlasting grip. A part of her respected their determination, or perhaps it wasn’t even determination at all, and instead stupidity masked as charisma. From the way that their eyes sparked, Sadë could almost feel the sharp ferocity emanating off of them, almost tugging at her. Their quickness towards wittiness perturbed her, but she listened on. At the mention of being an entertainer, she sighed. It only made sense.

“But what, my fine lady of the dusk, are you?”

‘What am I?’ Sadë thought to herself. She was not used to being asked questions about herself. Many of the conversations she had lasted no longer than a few seconds: a quick order at a dark tavern, an exchange at a shop, or a stake driven into the heart.

The simplest answer that came to mind is ‘traveler’. She hadn’t planted roots anywhere in a long, long time. Sometimes a voice whispered in the back of her mind that she is undeserving of belonging somewhere. She lost everything that her family had built for themselves, everything that they had forged for their name and their legacy, and until she had earned that back, she would never stop moving. She quickly changed her thought and began to humor herself at the thought of her answering this question with similar theatrics to the entertainer. Had she possessed the passion for dramatics and a tendency to share all too much at once, she would announce herself with exuberant titles: Ex-Noblewoman Turned Dark Huntress of Ekar…The Promised Queen of the Elnore Bloodline…. She could put on quite the show if she was reckless enough to share her past to a complete stranger…and had an unhealthy amount of alcohol in her system. Nevertheless, she did not yearn to be an open book, and, frankly, did not intend on coming across as one either.

“I,” she made sure to place heavy emphasis on the word, “am not here to entertain your little…” The traveler stood ahead of her now and she approached to stand parallel from them. She gestured to Morrigan with her hands in a circling motion, as if searching for the right words. It clicked, “...show of newfound bravery. Have you ever dealt with a vampire? Handled a stake? Taken a life?” She was coming off harsh, she knew that, but she intended on completing her mission tonight no matter what obstacle, or tiefling, got in her way. The best case scenario would be that she finally scared them off, but that didn’t seem to be plausible. She did not let the tiefling get a complete answer out, “What use are you to me?”

They had spoken of being a storyteller, one that hunts for curiosities. In such a business, it is a necessary evil for worthy tales. The purple tiefling seemed to handle themself well…enough. They could certainly hold their ground in a tense situation and had a melodic way with words. She didn’t hate the idea of her name being included in a tale, especially a story shared across the way, whispered all the way in the corners of the world. But could she trust that this stranger was honest of their storytelling abilities? Besides, it was going to take some time relocating the vampire with nothing to go off of. A lightbulb flipped on in her mind.

She eyed the tiefling from head to toe, and proceeded to lock eyes. The darkness whipped around in her iris.

“I want a story.”

Morrigan’s inquiry seemed to throw the lady for a loop. For the first time in their meeting, she paused, building agony and confusion brewing behind her dark eyes. This was a question Morrigan had asked countless others before, watched them freeze as they all pondered how to respond while they untangled the complicated knot of threads that comprised their identity, searching for the right way to answer. Most people didn’t know themselves well enough to discern the answer from the tapestry of their life.

That was what Morrigan was for, to weave stories from truth, to sift through those threads and create a rich fabric of fantasy from reality. Their smile only grew the longer the lady went without answering, before growing so frustrated that she snapped out that she was not there to entertain Morrigan’s spontaneous flights of whimsy. In her anger, she lashed out, demanding to know exactly what experience Morrigan held.

Morrigan immediately responded by throwing a handful of glitter from their pockets into her face.

“There’s no need for you to worry about me, my fine lady. As I said before, I have carried many titles through the years. Storyteller, enchanter, diviner, maker of elixirs most wonderful. I covet power that most mortal men could only dream of.” They boasted. “Have I used that power to take a life?” Their grin suddenly turned sharp and calculating, and cold as the snow fluttering around them. “Not anything that was ever human.”

It was a bit of an exaggeration, really. Morrigan had fought monsters before, though those victories had mostly been strokes of luck, and a lot of hiding behind others. Morrigan may have been rather weak and prone to cowardice, but that didn’t mean they lacked cunning and viciousness, and a drive to get what they desired most- fame and fortune.

And this lady, swaddled in dark fineries and with a promise of murder in her eyes, held an intriguing tale indeed.

“I think you’ll find I have a myriad of potions at my disposal, and a number of them that someone like you might find useful during your fight.” They added with a wink. The lady was silent for a long time, resolve finally crumbling as her anger dissolved into thoughtfulness, discerning exactly what use she could have for someone like Morrigan. Eventually, she came to her conclusion, looking down at them with that disdainful, dark, mad gaze.

… A story, hmm?

If it was at all possible, Morrigan’s grin widened, nearly stretching their cheeks in anticipation. “If it’s a story you want, a story you shall get.” Yes, that was perfect. She could act like she wanted peace and solitude all she wished, but the truth was that everyone wanted fame and recognition for their actions. And Morrigan could bring that to life for her.

Morrigan bowed at the waist, a promise. “Then you shall be my muse, madam. Allow the eyes of this humble storyteller to witness your quest to slay a noble vampire. I think I know what you really are, my lady, and I can show the world exactly what that is. A Huntress.”

As they straightened, they held out their hand for her to shake.

“You may call me Morrigan Moonweaver. And by morning, I shall be singing your praises from the rooftops of the Pale City, if you’ll allow me.”