The Vampire & Her Witch

In the Great Hall of the Frost Walker’s frozen fortress, Odette stood nervously on the first step of the great dias, watching as countless servants swarmed over the hall, ensuring that everything was in place for the trial that would begin once the sun slipped beneath the clouds that blanketed the pass beneath the fortress.

The passage of time had been kind to Odette, once considered a great beauty among the Frost Walkers, traces of her former splendor remained in her lithe, powerful figure and the graceful aura of soft snow that enveloped her.

While her strength had begun to fade with the advancing march of years, like her husband, she carried herself with the quiet dignity of one who had fought for the right to marry the strongest Frost Walker of her generation and now possessed the wisdom that came with the fading of that power. In the fading evening light, her pure white horn pulsed with a quiet anxiety as she fretted about the final arrangements taking place under her supervision.

As Lord Ritchel’s wife, she wanted nothing more than to rush back to his chambers and sit at his bedside while the healer’s tended to his wounds. The Thistle Witch might have withdrawn her poison, but the battle she’d fought with the Frost Walker lord had been so intense that he had consumed one of the Blood Vitality Crystals that Lady Nyrielle gifted him, just to have a chance of surviving.

Now, while he looked healthy, young, and as full of vigor as he had on the day of their wedding, his body was riddled with needle thin wounds that pierced his veins, tore at his ligaments and crippled his muscles.

Already, one of the best healers among the clan was at his side, but even the best among those who possessed a pale green horn could only manage to prevent Ritchel’s body from deteriorating further. If he wasn’t truly healed by the time the Blood Vitality Crystal wore off, no one knew if he would ever walk again, much less return to his throne.

With her husband in such dire straits, Odette wanted to remain close where she could help tend to him, even if she could do nothing more than what was already being done. But she wasn’t just Lord Ritchel’s wife, she was also the Mistress of the Castle.

As such, responsibility for arranging tonight trial fell on her slender shoulders, pressing down on her like she was trying to carry the mountain itself. The presence of four towering Tuscans and more than twenty Golden Eyed soldiers from the Black Wolf Brigade made it impossible for the Frost Walkers to ignore the fact that their fortress had been thoroughly conquered.

The banners hanging in the great hall made it even clearer that the Frost Walkers would have little say in this evening’s deliberations. The stark red glyph on a black field that represented the Harbinger of Death was one that most people in the High Pass would recognize.