Just as morning-light gained dominion over the darkness, there was little movement beneath his watchful eyes; Thornhurst still lay quiet in slumber; even the birds held their peace, the Aumere seemed quieter in its movements and the wind was silent. The morning, having just gained power, had not yet broken night’s spell; this was not to last long.
A crash, a clang, call it what you will, erupted from the woods, as the sound of two swords coming together to dance to a familiar song echoed across the stillness. It was distant, deep in Violetwood; hurrying through slumbering trees and along the Aumere its cause was found - a man, clad in dark robes, doing battle with Alyxandra; she had woken early, refreshed and renewed, and had wished to use the silence of the morning to her advantage. Thus, she found herself engaged in a debate of swordplay, an exchange of blows, with each party fighting for causes that the other could not understand. They remained locked in an unwavering struggle, with neither Alyxandra nor the masked enemy able to cause any damage.
As metal met and its wielders gasped, beginning to tire of their fruitless fighting. It was then that the nameless Stygian began to smirk, his whole expression becoming smug, as though he were the hunter, finding a new weakness to exploit in his target. As Alyxandra pondered the reason for this, confusion clouding her mind. Then, in a moment of pardon, the Stygian passed the blade into into his other hand, roaring in cold pleasure as he used his more dominant hand.
He has been toying with me, wearing down my strength... and now I am alone. What fatal mess have I got myself into? Continuing to struggle, she she poured all of her being into the blade, her heart screaming for help. This renewed effort seemed to be in vain; as his dominance became most obvious - in a sudden surge of momentum and another battle cry, he knocked Alyxandra’s weapon from her hand, and it flew into the undergrowth, disappearing from view. In a desperate attempt to save herself, she began to spear the Stygian with arrows, using them like daggers. The sword swept across her face, missing her nose my mere millimeters. As it passed over her, she swung her left leg up in a kick, forcing herself from the ground upside down, then pushing hard on the ground with her palms, brought herself upright.
As she stood, knees bent as though she were about to break into a run, she saw a glimmer beneath a bush, around ten metres away. She darted towards it, nearing her weapon with each step, when she heard the sound of a weapon being raised, the fast footfalls behind her telling her that if she faltered, even for a second, she would die, speared through the back like an animal. She dived beneath the bush to grab her weapon, before turning herself round to defend herself. The swords met again, and Alyxandra was filled with fear, as she attempted to scrabble around for a point at which she could stand. She had, in an attempt to increase her chance of survival, placed herself upon the brink of expiration. The Stygian raised his sword, and Alyxandra flinched, as he once again knocked the sword from her hand. As it lay, shining brilliantly on the grass of the forest floor, she closed her eyes, expecting death now. The image of her parents now filled her mind once more, their arms open, their smiles wide, their eyes filled with warmth. She smiled, opening her heart to allow death to enter her, to take her away from her loneliness. Peacefully, she awaited pain.