Catalinna

Eduwiges of Faldham stormed out of the greathouse of Tol Lochul and slammed the large doors behind her with a clash. She took the marble steps down two at a time and stomped with a bow legged gait down to the seawall. The constant bickering with Daedre, her rescued mother, was beginning to take its toll on her along with the seeming tension floating in the  house like a meandering creek clashing with rocks in the stream bed. Eduwiges was a woman of action.

"Hill of the Wind”, or “Weathertop” as it was called by Breelanders, was rightly named, but even its howling gusts couldn’t deter her from her task this night. Why she felt that it had to be here, under the careful watch of the full moon, was still unknown to her. It was a gut feeling that she couldn’t explain, nor did she care to think about it too much as her pale-green eyes watched the red drip from the bright silver steel of the ceremonial blade and her newly slashed palm into a melted pool of wax.

(The following takes place immediate after Moyna's Children - Part 4 - Xan's Humble Chronicler)

Xandilif looked up, face splattered with blood and brain, still holding the unlucky Sorcerer by the head, and glared at the elf on horseback. "Who the feck are you?