Prey

The Shadow walked into the room.

His eyes scoured the mess, noticing everything and noting nothing of importance. Clothes lay strewn about on the floor, empty ale bottles lay on their sides and small candles burnt down to mere nubs. In the midst of it all lay Draen, drunk out of his mind and naked from head to toe. A lone candle stood silently lit a few steps from his feet.

The Shadow slowly moved towards the unconcious man, whose back was facing the Shadow. His ghostly feet passed through the mess, touching nothing, leaving only a cold trace in the air. The bottles he passed through cracked, the clothes he touched stiffened, the candle nubs he looked at froze.

But Draen... Draen did not stir.

A stream of moonlight invaded the room through an open window, casting its glow all over Draen’s body. The Shadow paused, mildly irritated at the light. He glanced at the window and saw his own reflection gazing back at him.

He saw a hooded figure in a lonely room reflected back. Nothing to be seen of his face except what seemed to be a long flat beak-like bone poking out where his nose should have been. Clothed in darkness, floating just a few feet above the ground.

The Shadow raised a skeletal hand and the shadows around him moved towards the window, stretching and reaching towards it. The shadows moved like an invisible hand, swirling around the window and completely covering it in darkness, halting the moonlight from entering.

Then the Shadow moved towards the man, his arms reaching...

Something was wrong.

The Shadow hesitated. Something was amiss. The body radiated death and the Shadow instantly knew it had been dead for at least an hour.

He reached out with a swift hand and pulled Draen’s body to face him. There was only one problem.

The body wasn’t Draen’s.

A floorboard creaked behind him. Someone sighing. “You really should be more mindful of your prey, Shadow.”

The Shadow spun around. Draen stood, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed with a smile on his face, completely calm despite being faced with the second most lethal assassin in the Nine Realms.

The Shadow spoke in his native tongue. A low rough voice forming harsh cruel words -- words of power and anger. Words of magyck.

Draen lifted a hand towards the Shadow and the Shadow stiffened, his words momentarily caught in his throat. Then he began his chanting anew, determined and fierce.

“You just never know when to give up, do you?” Draen smiled. “Admirable, but ultimately...”

A bright blue glow began to appear in the palm of Draen’s hand, growing and building, being held back as if by sheer will. Then when it seemed like it would not grow any more ... it was released. It shot forward, faster than the Shadow’s eyes could follow and tore right through the Shadow’s torso, disappearing and taking the dark with it.

“... stupid,” finished Draen.

The darkness that surrounded the room seemed to disperse and the shadows that had guarded the windows let in the moonlight once again. The dark apparition was no more.

“No one beats the best, Shadow,” Draen snarled into the quiet room, his eyes only momentarily -- guiltily -- going over the naked human corpse he had killed.

Then he turned his back on the room and walked away.