Somewhere in the North Wood...

Catryn doesn't even hear the arrow coming. It splits through the air traveling at deadly speed and even deadlier accuracy. She ducks just in time as at it lands in the tree with a 'thunk' right where her head had been, sending splinters of white bark scattering in the air. Without hesitation, she bolts off into the forest. They've found me. Her heart races through her chest as she skips over tangled roots and rocks and fallen logs. They've fucking found me.

More arrows come flying past. Two, three, four. She counts. Perhaps this archer isn't as accurate as she thought.

Until - shit!

The fifth one hits her in the shoulder. Catryn lets out a painful cry as it pierces her flesh. She falls and lands on the ground which is made thick with mud from months of constant rainfall. The cloaked archer then catches up to her on horseback, another arrow ready to shoot. But before he can release it into her skull, Catryn unsheathes her sword and cleanly severs the legs of his horse. Blood splatters across her face as the black-haired steed lets out a howling scream and slams to the ground.

Before the rider can become trapped beneath his fallen charge, he deftly rolls from his saddle and lands perfectly on his feet. The hood of his cloak falls, revealing the dark-complexion of his face and long locks of raven-black hair. Marek. Catryn's eyes widen with surprise. So, they sent The Scorpion to deal with me.

Catryn knew it took a target of extreme difficulty for The Elders to send a man like that after them, but never once did she ever think that person would be her.

"Do you know why they call him The Scorpion?" Dark Sister asked her once, her usual cold smirk playing upon her lips.

Catryn rolled her eyes. She's just trying to scare me, she told herself. "No. Why do they?" She asked, humoring her.

"That's because he poisons each of his weapons, be it an arrow, spear, or sword, with The Gift. All it takes is one small nick, one small kiss of his blade, and you're a dead man."

Catryn's eyes narrowed. "How does it kill?" She asked, suddenly curious.

Dark Sister's smirk widened. "Within thirty seconds later you'll start to die. The poison will clog your throat so you can't breathe. Can't scream. You'll start foaming at the mouth. Then the venom will affect the extremities of your body. Your organs will begin shutting down one by one. You'll begin to suffocate. Your fingers and toes will turn green, then purple, and in moments will start to rot. At this point, your body will be overwhelmed by the pain and you'll start to convulse. This will last anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes, depending on how strong your constitution is, until your heart can no longer take the strain."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Is there an antidote?"

Dark Sister grins. "Just make sure you have enough lives."

Catryn glances down at the arrow lodged in her shoulder. Only a minute ago she had two lives left. Now, it seemed, she would only have one. Thirty seconds. She thinks to herself, despairingly. Up until today, each death she faced had been quick and painless. Never once had she had to suffer a slow death. The thought of it brought fear to her eyes.

Fear, yes, and complete, unbridled rage.

Meanwhile, Marek's bow and arrow has fallen from his hands, but that doesn't matter, not when he has several more weapons at his disposal. From his waist, he too draws his sword and charges forward. Catryn lurches to her feet before he can strike the first blow and blocks the cut. She grunts in pain from her shoulder as she does so, and her back foot nearly slips in the mud, but she steadies herself. Using all her might, she shoves forward. The Scorpion steps back, raises his arms above his head and swings his blade down with all his strength. Their swords clash, break apart, and clash again.

Catryn is only able to keep this up for so long, though, before the effects of the poison begin to take hold. In less than a minute, her strikes become slower. Sloppier. Soon, her vision grows hazy and she's panting for breath. Not even a moment later, she's coughing up blood.

"What is it, Sweet Sister?" Marek taunts her, his Nazyrean accent rolling off his tongue. "Feeling a bit dizzy?"

"You bastard." She curses before lunging forward again. The Scorpion evades the attack by simply stepping to the side, allowing the girl to slip and fall face down into the mud. By now the poison has Catryn clutched tightly in its cruel grips. Just as Dark Sister said. With each attempt to get back on her feet she fails, and the mud keeps giving way beneath her.

Marek walks over, kicks the sword from Catryn's hand, then kneels down beside her.

"Sweet Sister," he picks her up and cradles her head in his hands, wiping away a bit of foam and blood now gargling at her mouth. She glares at him as he does so, eyes filled to the brim with hatred. "I hope you know it gives me great pleasure to kill you this way." He sneers. "Worry not though. It will all be over soon."

"Burn in hell," she chokes out, angrily.

"Aye, I will. Though it will be many years until that happens." He mocks.

All of a sudden, Marek lets out a sharp gasp as a steel blade rams through the center of his chest. Catryn's head falls from his limp fingers as hot-red blood gushes from his body. Above her, a hand pushes the Nazyrean's corpse aside.

In that very moment, a look of recognition takes hold within the dying girl's eyes. "Rhoan." Catryn is barely able to utter his name. Still, it is with relief that she gazes up at his face. At the jagged scar that runs from eyes to chin.

"Shh." Rhoan says. He takes her in his arms and pulls a dagger from his belt. "Hold still, and close your eyes."

Catryn nods, and does as she is told.

A second later, the dagger pierces her through the heart. "Vahse." She whispers, foam and blood spitting from her lips, her face wet with mud and red and rain as the world around her turns dark.

Thank you.