The blood-curdling screams echo through the inn's winding corridors, punctuated only by the sounds of bones snapping and flesh tearing away. It was a symphony of pain and destruction that only the most twisted of souls could appreciate.

  This was where the Stygian Conclave dealt with more personal matters, their main base. An inn that they owned, hidden in plain sight away from the public's eye.

  As the screaming subsides, low, wet footsteps approach the door, which creaks open to reveal a woman with long, purple hair and ghostly pale skin. Baby blue eyes stare out from her porcelain face, cold and merciless. A short black dress clings to her lithe frame, doing little to hide the monstrous nature that lurks beneath. Bloodied footprints are left in her wake, leading out to the hallway she finds herself in. A sigh of relief leaves her lips, as if a great burden had somehow been lifted from her shoulders.

  "That took a while, are you all finished up, Izzy?" a man's voice calls out softly, the words filled with genuine curiosity.

  "Of course I am. She was a tough one," Isabelle replies nonchalantly, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather.

  Lucius peers into the dark room with a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

  "The girl's a mangled mess. Did you truly find it necessary to break every bone in her body?"

  "She kept crying; it pissed me off," Isabelle responds.

  Lucius squints into the shadows, inspecting the carnage, and the mess left behind when he hears a wet gurgle come from the darkness.

  "Izzy! You didn't even finish the poor thing off!" He quickly steps into the room, his polished boots crunching on shattered bone and torn flesh alike. One final sickening crunch can be heard before he emerges, removing a normally white glove that’s now been stained a deep crimson. He deftly replaces it with another from his back pocket.

  Isabelle's appetite for destruction was a source of both fascination and concern for Lucius. He understood that their mission required a certain level of brutality, but the depths to which Isabelle willingly plunged into was enough to make even their most hardened members uneasy around her.

  Lucius lets out a sigh, his breath forming a misty cloud in the cold air of the dimly lit corridor.

  "I suppose you can surmise why I’m here," he begins, his voice soft, "why won't you take the face of Victor Crowsong?"

  Isabelle's baby blues narrow, her lips curling into a snarl as she replies, "I don't want his. I want Gabriel's."

  "I understand," Lucius says, his tone laced with a hint of desperation. "You will have Gabriel's, I promise you. But you must take Victor's. At least for a short time. The Summit is coming up in three years' time, and without him, it'll be rather difficult to acquire the fourth vote that we so desperately need. We don't exactly have anyone in our ranks that fits his appearance, and what would the Royals think of a family head passing away so suddenly? Who do you think they will blame?" He reaches out, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I implore you, Izzy, think of the Conclave!"

  But Isabelle is unmoved by his plea.

  "Victor Crowsong is ugly, he is weak, and he is NOT pretty!" She shouts, her voice echoing through the soundproof corridors of their lair.

  Lucius recoils, annoyance gripping him as he realizes that his attempts to persuade her are obviously failing.

  He decides to try a different approach, hoping to appeal to her vanity.

  "Izzy, I need you to help me, to help the Conclave. We just got you the most beautiful mask money can buy-"

  His words stop short as he notices her gaze drifting past him, fixated on something unseen.

  Her body tenses, and her fingers curl into fists at her sides.

  "Izzy?" Lucius questions, but follows her eyes to something beyond him. He is unable to see or sense anything out of the ordinary, yet the temperature seems to drop even further as a chill travels through his body.

  He hadn’t noticed it before, but just why was it that he could see his own breath? It was only Fall, and midday at that.

  Isabelle lets out a low growl, and utters two words that strike Lucius to his core.

  "Old man..."

  "Izzy, he's here, isn't he? Lord Death," Lucius whispers, feeling the weight of the unseen presence that now hangs in the air around them.

  Death stands before Isabelle, wielding his scythe that gleams with an otherworldly light.

  Lucius raises his voice, desperate to make himself heard.

  "Lord Death, we beseech you. Listen to our plea! There has been a misunderstanding."

  Isabelle punches Lucius in the arm, silencing him with a frustrated cry. "Can you shut up?! The old man's about to talk!"

  "Ah, Lucius," Death mutters, his voice low and measured. "Worry not, I haven’t forgotten about you." Death walks through him, and makes his way to Isabelle. "You go by a different name now."

  "Cut the shit," she snaps. "What do you want, old man? What? Are you pissed that we sent more of your toys to you?" The contempt drips from her words like venom, but Death remains undisturbed.

  "No, quite the contrary. I'm sure you're already well aware, but there has been a new mark recently."

  Isabelle's expression hardens at the mention of the mark.

  "You know I don't care about that stuff! Someone else can deal with it..."

  Death continues, undeterred. "It's a Crowsong."

  "Seriously? So was the last one… I’m starting to think you just don’t like your own people."

  "This one is different."

  "Unless this one's name starts with G, and ends with abriel, then I don't give a shit," Isabelle spits, turning away from Death. But as she begins to walk away, Death's voice stops her.

  "It's a good thing that you're already wearing black."

  "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Isabelle demands, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

  "Because, my dear, the mark managed to kill one of your sisters."

  Isabelle's ears perk up, her interest piqued as she turns to face Death once more.

  "Which one?" she demands, her voice wavering between anger and fear. The silence that follows is heavy.

  "Valoria."

  Isabelle's face contorts for a moment, a myriad of emotions flickering across her features before she let out a small, disbelieving laugh.

  "You fucking liar, there’s no way," Isabelle spits, her laughter growing louder, and more desperate. "Seriously? You think I'd believe that bitch and her magic tree are dead? Really, what did you actually come here for?"

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  But Death isn’t laughing. His eyes, hidden beneath the brim of his hood, seem to burrow holes into Isabelle, causing her laughter to die down.

  "Wait... You aren't telling the truth, are you?" she whispers, tears beginning to stream down her face. "That's my little sister, I know you aren't trying to tell me that my little sisters de-"

  "Enough!" Death's voice echoes through the room. "She. Is. Dead."

  "How do you know?" Isabelle chokes out, her voice barely audible.

  "I saw her body."

  "Wh-Why were you there?" Isabelle stammers, her eyes wide as she looks up at Death once more.

  "The Crowsong defeated a Withered Dryad. I was there to accept them into the Shadow Requiem, and that’s when I saw it."

  Isabelle flexes her arm, ready to pounce, but Lucius squeezes her arm, holding her back with just one hand.

  "You saw my sister die, and you gave the fucker a reward!?"

  "I did no such thing. I was able to trick her. I made her waste her boon on saving a nobody," Death replies, tapping a skeletal finger against his skull.

  "Her? So it's a girl..."

  "That's right, it is a girl. A girl with the ability to not only defeat a Denizen of Darkness but also the ability to destroy souls themselves. Valoria’s soul is nowhere to be found, I’m afraid. This girl is a very malevolent being. I've reason to believe that she isn't even human… She reminds me a lot of a certain creature that defies nature. One I discovered long, long ago," Death says, and he gives Isabelle a knowing glance.

  Isabelle breaks free from Lucius’s grasp, and her hand instantly transforms into that of a bears as she lunges forward. Before it can reach him though, she’s clawing at empty shadows. In the next moment, her paw is embedded in the wall, and she lets out a low growl.

  "Oh no, don’t worry. You are nothing like that girl. Would you like to know her name?" Death whispers from just out of reach. Isabelle twists, and turns, but Death is nowhere to be seen now.

  "Tell me, old man. I don’t want to play these games, tell me her name!" Isabelle screams, and clenches her teeth together with such force that they begin to crack and bleed, ruining her brand new mask.

  In Isabelle's ear, Death’s voice lingers.

  "Clara Crowsong..."

  Isabelle remains in the room with Lucius after she hears the name. She repeats it in her mind time and time again, reinforcing it into memory.

  "You're still there, aren’t you? I have one more question."

  The only reply she gets is silence, but she asks anyways

  "Is…is she pretty?"

  A long moment passes until Death finally answers, "Yes, she is much more beautiful than you are."

  A second later, Isabelle frees herself from the wall and runs into the room from which she came, disappearing into the darkness. Unseen by anyone else, she starts to viciously beat what remains of the corpse who's skin she was now wearing. As each wet squelch and tear echoes through the air, Isabelle screams her heart out for what feels like an eternity.

  She leaves the room, blood coating her entire frame now. Her eyes seem a little darker, a little more broken, and she stands before Lucius.

  "Are you feeling better now?" Lucius asks, holding out a hand towards Isabelle.

  "Nothing's going my way, a man beat me, and… and then my sister… My little sister-" Isabelle groans in pain as she stumbles into his arms, her eyes watering up.

  "Oh my little angel," Lucius whispers, holding Isabelle close. "I understand the pain of losing a loved one all too well. That is why we are doing this, after all. Those Crowsongs... They've taken far too much from us."

  "Yeah... Hey, Lucy? Who is Clara Crowsong?" Isabelle stifles a cry, and manages to look up at Lucius.

  "Ah, she is the youngest child of Lord Victor, and one of the few that managed to escape. Supposedly Valerius was tasked with hunting her, but he was unable to finish the job."

  "Valerius Blackthorne?..." Isabelle whispers to herself, her tears drying as she focuses on Lucius’s words.

  "Mhm... I do find it strange though, given she supposedly had no magic, and she's just a child. Valerius has always been such a promising aspect, you know, he loves the hunt almost half as much as you do, Izzy. I've meant to question him about it, but he seems to have come down with somet-"

  Before Lucius can finish talking, Isabelle has freed herself from his embrace, and is already running down the hallways.

  Her footsteps echo like thunder, announcing her approach to those who dare stand in her way. She can feel Lucius's gaze on her back, but she doesn't care. All that matters now is finding Valerius Blackthorne and getting the answers she so desperately needs.

  The door to Valerius's room flies open with a deafening crash as Isabelle kicks it off its very hinges. Valerius lay in bed, his body covered in bandages. A large majority of his face is covered in these bandages too, but he still has an eye, and a mouth. A healer stands by his side, her eyes wide in shock as she recognizes Isabelle's infamous glare. Her hands cover her mouth, and she hastily retreats into a corner before she can slip past Isabelle, leaving her alone with her prey.

  "Ah, Mistress Nocturne," Valerius chuckles weakly, his voice rasping with pain. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  Isabelle's hand flexes, her nails and claws digging into her palm and paw as she struggles to contain her rage.

  If this man had killed Clara Crowsong, then her sister would still be alive right now.

  She wants nothing more than to tear his bones out of his body, but first, she needs information.

  "I heard that you were tasked with hunting a ‘Clara Crowsong’," she manages to say through clenched teeth.

  "That's right," Valerius replies, grimacing as he holds out his broken arms. "As you can see, I failed."

  A ragged cough wracks his body, and thick black liquid spills from his lips, pooling onto his chest. Little black bugs begin to squirm and dance across his form a moment later.

  Isabelle's breath slows to a halt, and all she can hear is the blood roaring in her ears as she stares at the sight in horror.

  Carefully, Isabelle reaches forward and hooks a claw underneath one of the bandages on his face before pulling it down. They were there too. The little black bugs writhe and squirm within Valerius's flesh, feasting on him from the inside out.

  One of the bugs crawls towards Isabelle. Just the idea of it touching her makes her skin crawl. She needs to get rid of the sensation, immediately. With one swift movement, her other hand digs into her shoulder blade, removing the arm in its entirety as it hits the floor with a thud.

  The bug that had been crawling towards her is on that arm now, alongside at least a dozen others. Isabelle jumps back, and her hand digs into her throat this time, ending her life instantly in a spray of blood. It’s only a second before she comes to, and crawls out of the last body. She’s quick to get away, kicking her way out of it, and clawing her way along the floor. She doesn’t care how many masks it takes, she won’t let them touch her, she won’t, not again. No sooner does she escape than the corpse becomes infected by hundreds of the bugs. She runs to the door, and stays a good ways away from Valerius now. Her new form is that of a young man. A red-haired gentleman with curly hair she had killed on her way over here.

  Isabelle can see the anguish in Valerius's eyes, the silent plea for help. And yet, all she can think of is how this disease shouldn't exist. It should be a figment, an old fairytale by now, yet here it is again.

  "Did this Crowsong girl do this to you?" Isabelle shouts, her voice barely louder than the sickening sounds of the bugs eating away at Valerius’s body, and Isabelle’s last mask.

  Valerius manages a weak smile, his parched lips cracking under the strain.

  "No, mistress," he rasps, each word a laborious effort. "She definitely knows how to fight. Whatever intel we had on her was false in its entirety. She is far stronger than I previously imagined. In my short time hunting her, she underwent explosive growth."

  Another series of violent coughs wracks Valerius’s frame before he continues.

  "The girl’s a natural born killer, but she had a spirit. Went by the name of ‘Terra’, thought the thing was just another loose spirit she scrounged up. The moment she lost consciousness though? He attacked. I’d never seen such a fierce fighter in my life, and I assure you, mistress, I have lived. He overwhelmed me in a moment and branded me with this curse. It all happened so fast, I wasn't sure what happened..."

  "Ardain’s Plague..." Isabelle murmurs under her breath, the words slipping past her lips before she can stop them. Her mind races with fragmented memories, she had half a mind to drag the strongest pyromancer she could find and have Valerius burnt on the spot for the sake of everything she held dear.

  Valerius eyes the corpse in the corner of the room.

  "You know of this disease, I take it? You have been around a while longer than myself, no offense, Mistress. None of the healers knew what it was. I'm glad you do. Tell me, what is the cure?"

  Isabelle can’t bring herself to answer, her thoughts becoming tangled in a web of confusion. Ardain’s Plague should not exist anymore... It's been gone for over a millenia... These thoughts echo in her skull, an incessant drumbeat that drowns everything else out.

  The name Terra was not familiar to her.

  "An alias," Isabelle breathes out, the realization hitting her. Whoever this Terra was, he was just like her. Something of a bygone era, going by a different name now. She was certain of it.

  "You. You're coming with me. Someone get this man an actual fucking healer!" Isabelle shouts into the hall, her voice cracking like a whip.

  "M-Mistress, I don’t understand. Just where are we going?" Valerius stammers out, confusion taking him for a brief moment as two healers enter the room.

  "We’re going to finish what you started. Clara Crowsong, and this Terra of hers, they cannot be allowed to live in this world a moment longer."