Rain pattered against the window providing the only source of sound that night. The house was dark, no fire was lit for it was late evening. A woman lay within her bed curled up fast asleep, shivering slightly due to the chill outside. Next to her sat a cot, it swayed slightly as the cold wind squeezed through the gaps on walls around the room. There was no child within it, for the child was still to be born, yet there it stood looking slightly eerie in the dark prepared for the arrival.
Outside a horse drew close from the distant hills, upon it sat a man drenched to the bone wrapped in a green cloak. He dismounted, pulling a large sack from the horse’s saddle as he trod along the muddy path towards the house. As he climbed the stone steps he paused. Lowering the sack to one side he turned to stare back down the path searching the area. He had heard something mixed within the sound of rain, something similar to the sound that he had just made himself walking towards the house. His eyes fell swiftly to the path, he stared looking slightly alarmed to see that his footprints were now joined with a new set. He gasp swiftly, pain searing through his lower body glancing down weakly at the blade that now stuck out of his chest. Blood was sent onto the stone porch as he coughed while the blade was withdrawn slowly from the body causing him to fall. A swift kick sent the cloaked man falling down into the mud which now turned a crimson shade.
Within the house the woman continued to sleep, blissfully unaware of the murder that had taken place just outside of her very window. She smiled slightly, dreaming perhaps of something happy, the child perhaps. The front door creaked open causing a sharp gust of cold wind to swoop into the living area making papers ruffle and flowers shift. A dark figure entered it, walking in a limp with a hunched appearance. As he walked further into the room the moonlight from outside shone across his face. Long black hair matted with dirt covered most of his features, water dripping from it silently onto the thread rug below his feet which were bootless and bleeding. His clothes were rags, as though he had found a sack lying upon the road adding additional holes to it to wear. A single eye could be seen beneath the hair which darted around the room wildly, the unmistakable look of anger etched into it.
The women in the other room awoke, aware now of the increasing coldness as she moved her hand over the bed as though searching for something. She turned her body, “Where is he?” she thought to herself as she pushed her legs out the bed getting to her feet. She walked cautiously towards the door only moonlight providing light within the room. She opened it, peering out into the living room pushing her long raven hair from her face. “Hello?” she spoke weakly into the dark still recovering from her deep sleep. “Is that you Vintar?” There was an eerie silence broken only by the front door which swung against the wall forced by the wind. The woman entered the room hurrying over to shut it, eyeing the papers which now lay upon the floor whilst holding a hand to the large bump which was her pregnant stomach. She looked up yo see the door closing, pushed by a hand which emerged from the darkness which held a number of cuts with missing fingernails.
The woman gasped in horror turning on the spot, she made for her room but fell on a chair which stood out of place. Lying on the ground she pushed herself up, one hand supporting her as she stared back at the dark corner while the other held the lump still. She breathed heavily as the man slowly stepped forward, eyes fixed upon her. “Every day…” he spoke in a deep yet broken voice. “Every day, of every hour while I endured the torment and pain of a life time, not once did my mind stray from the thought of this house. The thought of you…” The look of fear which once dominated the woman’s face seemed to vanish, a look of both confusion and sorrow now revealing themselves in the moonlight. “It can’t be… I thought- I thought…” “You thought wrong!” he bellowed revealing the blood covered sword which he carried in his hand. “Did you even notice it was gone? I took it from the house weeks ago as I watched you both!” He pushed a hand over his face moving the hair from it. His face was a pale white, a large raw scar being the most dominant feature that ran across his face between his piercing blue eyes.
His face was hollow and tormented, rage flowing through it as he took a few more steps towards her looking slightly demented with the sword in hand. “You forgot about me, you forgot about us! The thought of escaping my prison and returning home kept me alive! You’ve betrayed me you filthy whore!” The intruder now swung the blade at the table to his right causing a vase to shatter. “Arthenion!” the woman shouted over the yells of pain coming form the man, “I- I never knew. I was told that you and your company had been slain in the wild. Please! Listen to me!” The man paused at the mention of his name, turning wildly to face her his lip curling. “Arthenion?!” he spoke in a hiss swooping down towards her like a spider moving towards its pray. “No, not anymore my wife. Only a speck of that man remained within this shell which you have now crushed!”
The woman climbed to her feet staring deeply into his eyes, a look of sorrow and understanding within them as she placed a hand upon his cheek. “I have always loved you, husband.” She whispered in a calming voice which caused the man to look away. “Please, what have you done with Vin-” She paused, breath being driven from her lungs as her eyes widened. The hand which lay upon his cheek slowly fell to her side while her entire body became limp and loose. The man pulled the blade from her slowly as he did with Vintar, his eyes fixed still on her lifeless ones as she fell to before his feet. He stood over her shaking slightly, shocked by what he had just done. The man once known as Arthenion, who had family and friends in these lands had indeed fallen into darkness. Since that day the name became forgotten, replaced by another.
Two weeks past before the murder was discovered, the crime was never uncovered. Who would have ever guessed that a man thought long dead would have returned and slaughtered his wife. Eventually the guards came to the conclusion that brigands had done the deed, the house to this day remains empty and forgotten. This event, this heartless killing was without a doubt the birth of Drevorin.
