Starting Over

Some Answers

It had been one rollercoaster of a week, Sophie decided. It started with Reg returning, and bringing with him one delightful piece of furniture. Then they got permission from Devon to take a few days in Southshore so she could meet his parents.

Meeting a human’s parents was a surreal experience. They were very pleasant and polite, but Sophie could smell the curiosity, bewilderment, and almost fear wafting off of them. She couldn’t blame them – she was well over 40 year older than they, yet the same emotional age as their son. Humans never knew how to judge a dwarf’s looks either – Sophie was considered pretty for her race, but the coarser silver hair was taken as a sign of age in humans. Although the subject of marriage wasn’t brought up, and Reg and she hadn’t discussed it themselves, it was hinted at by his hen-like mother. But overall they appeared to like her and she liked them, so it was a successful visit.

Sophie was relieved that Reg was not embarrassed by her. He introduced her to all his relatives and friends with pride, feeling amused by their confusion. She smiled warmly to herself – at least he wasn’t bringing home a Darenei or Tauren. The largest shock was meeting his ex-wife, though it wasn’t planned. Reg wasn’t kidding when he said human women didn’t age as well as dwarves. She had ducked into a small general goods shop to restock some of their supplies, and was waited on by a tired looking woman assisted by a couple of teenagers. Although handsome by human standards, she was weary in appearance, with heavy lines around her eyes and forehead, and must have had a rough life. As Sophie paid for the goods Reg had came in and greeted the woman politely by his ex’s name, which she had remembered from past conversations. They eyed each other with curiosity, and Soph could see that touch of longing and ‘what-if’ in her eyes when the woman looked at her handsome ex-husband, but that was all the drama they experienced from the meeting. ‘What-ifs’ are one of the cruelest things about growing older the dwarf decided.

They held each other tightly at night and Sophie listened to stories of his childhood. She had no relatives to introduce him to – her mother had passed on decades ago, and her father was off in Kalimdor with the Explorer’s League. She didn’t hear from him often, and was never too sure where he was at any given time. She had a sister Mindy who was a holy priest in the Alliance, but she was still in training in far away lands. Hearing the pleasant everyday triumphs of a living and happy family was very enjoyable in her opinion.

The dwarf looked around the lush green hills smelling deeply. Currently they were in the Hinterlands – Reg had insisted they take a couple days to look for traces of her sons. She had tried all the troll camps by herself in the past, now they were looking through abandoned buildings, hoping that two sets of eyes were better than one. Sophie was deeply touched that he considered it important enough to waste vacation time on. Not that it was a waste, but it was solely for her benefit. Sophie dreaded finding them – either they had left her empty and broken hearted for years if they were alive, or she would find out they had indeed died, and the grieving would start fresh again. Or worse yet, they would find nothing and she would still be left not knowing.

They spent a quiet and peaceful day exploring the southern border of the land, thinning out the local wolf population. Sometime around noon they came upon the ruins of a dwarven house half buried into the steep hill. Sophie and Reg inspected it with curiosity – it was certainly built by dwarves – the thick stone walls and runic carvings in the support beams made that as clear as a bell. The few remaining bits of furniture that had survived the ravages of looting trolls and nature were scaled for dwarves. But the house had obviously been open to the elements for a couple years at least.

“Hum,” the hunter pondered, tapping her finger to her bottom lip as the examined the wreckage. “I’m guessin’ who ever lived here left in a hurry – they dinna bring all their furniture, and some o’ it is decent built.”

Reg poked through a heap of trash blown into a corner with his sword. “Yes – I agree Soph. And there are plenty of bits of trash that indicate there had been supplies left behind that have been torn through.” The paladin stooped down and examined a relatively intact chair, comparing it to the broken bits of another. “I don’t see axe or sword marks on the wood here – I don’t think the occupants were driven out by violence.”

Sophie was examining a wardrobe in the corner, snuffing loudly. “I smell something off in this closet, dear,” she called over her shoulder. “Rambler pet, come ‘ere,” and she moved to the side for her bear. Bear and dwarf sniffed the insides thoroughly, and Rambler gave a growl, pawing at the floor. “Good girl!” she smiled, patting her bear on the head.

“What did you find?” he asked, drawing close.

“There be a cellar under this wardrobe,” Sophie said over her shoulder. “We can smell the dampness.” She gave her bear a shove and gentle command to move out of the way as she looked for a trap door.

Her friend gave a laugh, tapped her on the head to get her attention and gestured for her to move aside. Sophie did, watching with curiosity. Perhaps humans had a gift with puzzles – Reg certainly had one for plans and organization. But the paladin didn’t dazzle her with logic – he simply leaned his back to the wall and kicked the wardrobe away with his plate covered feet, revealing steps down into blackness in the floor.

Lighting some Elder festival elune stones, they tossed them down the stairs and waited a few minutes, while Sophie and Rambler sniffed and snuffed. “Nothing but stale air and death, I’m afraid,” she concluded after a while, trembling with nervous anticipation. Reg insisted on going first – a courtly habit that Soph would never succeed in breaking him of. Besides – she was more use from a distance.

It was a small cellar with a tragic sight to greet them. Untouched during the years, with the exception of spiders and insects, the basement had certainly been used for evil purposes. Chains, racks, and instruments of torture cluttered the sturdy tables. There were candles, jars of disgusting and nameless things, and the traces of dark rituals. Once their eyes left the table and adjusted to the darkness, Sophie gasped with sorrow and shock – there on the farthest wall hung the skeletons of two dwarven men – one with orange hair, the other with silver like their mother.

Sophie never knew how many hours had passed, or what exactly happened in that time. Wailing, grief, comforting, anger, it was a blur. Reg was there for her as she sadly examined the skeletons and knew without a doubt they were her boys. By the knife marks on Flinty’s ribs, he had certainly met his end from a dagger. She couldn’t tell what had happened to Spark. But between the scent of their hair still clinging to grinning skulls and the tatters of clothing, there was no question she had found her sons.

Reginald helped her remove their remains and transport them back to Ironforge. They spent the night in a local inn, and when the day dawned, she went back to try and determine the identity of the home owner while Reg tried the local town hall to find the owner of the home. The mother combed through the shreds of belongings with determination to find answers.

After a couple of hours working upstairs Sophie sat back on her haunches and wiped a stray tear from her dirt covered cheek. Her partner entered the dwelling and gave her a chaste and sympathetic kiss. “I don’t get it, Reg. Why would a fellow dwarf torture and kill me boys?” she asked him, bewildered. “It had to be a dwarf judgin’ by the furniture here. Did ye find anything?”

The paladin shook his head sadly. “This house was built over 40 years ago, Soph. It was abandoned after only a couple seasons they said – the owner died in battle. They had no idea anyone had been here since.”

Reg took Rambler and moved to the basement while Sophie continued to sift through the upstairs for clues. The sight of the chains and torture was too much for her to confront at the moment. They were only gone a few minutes though, when Reg came racing up the stairs, bear in tow. “Soph – check this out,” he called gently. “Rambler found this tossed in a corner.”

Sophie looked at the prize in his hand. It was a very skimpy pair of ladies underwear – lacey, black, and made from the gnomish polyester – a synthetic cloth that wouldn’t rot like cotton would have. She held them up to her own hips and commented “these belonged to a dwarven lass, that be sure.” Hesitantly she brought them to her nose and sniffed deeply.

Anger and rage shone in her eyes. “Reg – I know this scent. These be Fury’s.” She tossed the panties at the shocked man and spun toward the door. “I am gonna kill that bitch,” she promised darkly, heading back in the direction of Ironforge.


-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Calming a dwarf bent on revenge wasn’t the easiest job in the world. Actually, it ranked up there next to dragon slaying. But Reginald managed to make Sophie settle down so they could report to Devon and do things in a logical order. They had managed to trek/stomp a good 6 miles before the grieving dwarf burst into tears, agreeing with her partner. They needed more proof and a plan.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Sophie turned shiny eyes to her friend. “But Reg – I don’t understand why.” She turned unseeing eyes in the direction of the dwarven dwelling. “Flinty loved her. Why would she kill him? And Spark too?”

Reg held her close. “Soph, we need a way to examine her home in Dun Morag. All those candles and jars of junk in her basement - I can’t help but feel there is lots more to this than a jilted lover.” His head snapped up in an epiphany. “Is Fury an enchanter?”

His love met his gaze with determination. “I don’t rightly know, Reg. But I intend to find out.” She took a steadying breath and drummed her fingers on the log they were sitting on. “We dinna have a rogue in our little group, and Ascenta is out on recon, but I do know how to find what is going on in Fury’s home. I need to stable Rambler and tame me a kitty.”


-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Snow leopard and dwarf stood face to face in the snowy clearing in the woods of Dun Morag. Sophie’s gun was held loosely at her side, ready but not threatening. In her other hand was a freshly butchered rabbit, dripping warm blood on the snow. The cat’s whiskers twitched at the enticing scent.

“Let me understand this, dwarf” the cat pondered telepathically. “You use my body for a short while, and you will bring me meat for a full moon? You will not harm me in any way?”

“Nay, pretty one. I need your stealth to spy on an enemy. The meat will be fresh and of your choosin,” Sophie replied. She handed him the rabbit as an offering.

The leopard lay in the snow and slowly ate the rabbit, savoring its freshness. Meals were hard to come by when new hunters were training in the hills. The feline looked up at the dwarf and asked “Why not simply kill your enemy and be done with it? You are strong enough to kill creatures many times your size.”

The hunter smiled warmly at the beautiful cat. “My mate and I suspect she is guilty of terrible crimes against many people. We want to be certain before we accuse her.”

“Humanoids are complicated. But the thought of my freedom and a full belly is too good to pass up. My body is yours for your use.”


=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Sophie readied herself to cast the spell that would allow her to take control of the leopard’s body. While the spell was working her body would be vulnerable to attack, so Reg gladly stayed with her to guard her. “Good luck, pumpkin,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Please be careful.”

Green glowing light surrounded the dwarf’s body, and her eyes grew milky and opaque. Sophie was gone, but the silent leopard lying on the carpet sat up and placed a paw on the paladin’s knee, looking toward the door of the flat. Reg opened the door and his love padded out on four silent feet.

Invisible and odor-free due to being stealthed, Sophie in the cat’s body swiftly found Fury’s small home in Kharanos. It was a tidy little cottage half built into the ground – a typical dwarven dwelling. She waited patiently and invisible by the door – Fury was finishing her shopping and would be returning home soon. Getting into her house wouldn’t be a problem, but getting back out might prove challenging.

Sure enough Fury came pounding in from the village on a rather expensive Stormwind mare. Sophie rolled her feline eyes – even the mage had a horse for a mount. The hunter/leopard padded up and waited for the mage to unlock and open her door. At just the right moment Sophie hooked a razor-sharp claw on her market basket, spilling its contents over the snow. As Fury cussed with, well, fury, at her perceived self-clumsiness as Sophie entered the house and sat in a corner to allow her eyes to adjust to the dark.

Cat eyes adapted swiftly and Sophie wandered the house keeping a sharp eye on the mad dwarf retrieving her groceries outside the door. The Elvin furniture and exotic furnishings disturbed her, but not as much as the clear scent of death, blood-elf and sex. The nasty woman had certainly been busy, and on extremely friendly terms with a male Sin’dori.

Her whiskers bristled with anger – in a back room was a bench with paraphernalia that resembled the objects in the Hinterland’s cellar. Sophie also found a box that perfectly matched the one from Arathi. She considered taking it to show Devon, and was dying to open it and see if it contained one of the knives, but didn’t dare leave her scent on it. Being hasty could alert Fury they were on to her, so she left it alone. It was best to run back out the door before the mage finished with her groceries, which she did.

Back in Ironforge Sophie returned to her flat, got her body back and released the leopard with her blessings and a freshly butchered hog she had waiting in a snow bank. Returning to Reg, she looked at him sadly, sat heavily in a chair and took a long pull from a hip flask.

“What did you find, Soph?” he asked, already knowing it was something to back their suspicions.

The dwarf gave a sigh as she savored the warmth from the bourbon hitting her stomach. “Ya – I’d bet a pretty pile ‘o gold she’s our enchanter, Reg.” Sophie scrubbed a stray tear from her cheek, annoyed at how much she had found herself crying lately. “A matching box was on a bench in the back, and all kinds of nasty looking stuff like we found in Hinterlands. She’s an enchanter all right, and the box pretty well nails it.”

“Did you bring it?” the paladin asked excitedly, craning his neck to look at her pack.

Sophie shook her head negatively. “Naw, love. If it was a knife she’d miss it quick. And if I touched it…”

“She’d smell leopard on it,” Reg concluded sadly. “Well, let’s bring our findings to Devon – he will contact the leaders and will direct us from there.” He gathered her in his arms in a strong, much needed hug. “We will get to the bottom of this. And I swear to you, Soph, we will get a confession out of her. You need answers for your son’s deaths.”


-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Deathrage entered Fury’s house, his unmistakable revulsion on his face as he looked around the dwelling. The dwarf knelt on the floor at his feet, not looking up, and remained oblivious to his true feelings towards her. He glanced coolly down at the top of her head. “Is my dinner ready?” he sniffed.

“Yes master!” Fury answered humbly, trembling with anticipation and a touch of fear. “Would you like me to serve you?”

The blood-elf strode across the room and took his seat at the table, picking up a fork and examining it casually. The silverware was new, and well crafted. At least the woman had taste. “You may,” he replied, and watched her eager retreat to the kitchen. She was pathetic – so openly taken with him, so anxious to please him. Did she really think he could ever love an ugly creature like her? Yes, the elixir brewed from human pre-cum helped her looks some, but she was still basically an ugly dwarf. But the Horde paid him well to keep up the charade – they wanted the knives and were not willing to risk their own enchanters to the task. Besides, he mused to himself, he was able to indulge in some of his kinkier pleasures with the dwarf.

Deathrage dined at a leisurely pace, savoring the expensive and exotic flavors on his tongue. She certainly wanted to please him, the acknowledged. Glancing at the top of Fury’s bent head, he smirked with amusement as he felt his cock harden. “Get the toys” he purred at her, and noted that she shivered in anticipation.

She swiftly went to her bedroom and eagerly returned with a basket holding an assortment of whips, paddles, dildos, cuffs, and other items of bondage and pain. Kneeling in front of the man of her desires, she held the offering up to him, head bent in submission. Deathrage picked up a whip and dropped it dismissively on the floor. Again with a riding crop, and then a fur covered paddle. Fury felt her cheeks flushing with arousal just looking at what he was rejecting.

The blood elf at last choose a wood paddle – firm and narrow like a cricket bat with a short sturdy handle. He slapped it against his palm experimentally a few times, watching the goosebumps appearing on Fury’s silken shoulders as his cock hardened even more. “This will do” he purred at her. “Across my lap – remain clothed,” he commanded, as he positioned himself more comfortably.

The dwarf immediately obeyed, all too aware of what he was capable of if she was slow to follow orders. Fury draped her body on his slender legs, ass vulnerable and in the air, breasts against his warm limbs. Her skirt caught on his tall boots and she could feel the chill air tickling her thighs – thighs that were already wet with her juices of anticipation. Deathrage looked at her and slowly, ever so slowly lifted her skirt up and over her lap, pooling on her back. He carefully ran a practiced hand over her silk clad ass, feeling the texture of the lacey undergarment, and barely brushing against her dripping cleft, noting her arousal.

Running a gentle, almost tender finger across the elastic of her skimpy undies, the elf suddenly grabbed them and yanked in a vicious wedgie. Fury gasped and squirmed at the unexpected and rough contact with her wanting pussy, but she immediately forced herself to relax and wait. The elf smiled silkily in approval, stroking her now exposed ass cheeks with the flat of his palm. She felt the hand leave her backside and gave a low involuntary moan of loss as he placed it on her still clothed back, bracing her for what was to come.

And come it did – Deathrage picked up the wooden paddle with his other hand and gave her a swift SMACK on her left ass cheek, and paused, admiring the red bruise it left. Then SMACK on the right side. His warm hand left her back and caressed the welts in a strange parody of affection, then returned to holding her down.

Fury moaned deep in her throat. Already her bottom was burning and throbbing and her love had only started. She wanted to wiggle her hips or to beg him to touch her wet, wet clit, but knew it would get her no where. This was about pleasuring him, and her release would happen as a result of it, or not.

“Who is a naughty girl?” he asked in his silky, sarcastic voice, and Fury whimpered in response. “That, my wanting bitch, is not an answer!” he growled, and SLAP went the paddle on one cheek, then the other. Burning with pain, and she knew her ass was glowing red already. SMACK came the paddle again and again – 3 more hits on each side.

Tears came to her eyes – whether they were tears of humiliation, pain, or bliss Fury didn’t know or care. “I am, master, dear master!” she sobbed.

Deathrage snaked his hand down his front and unbuttoned the fly on his tight trousers. Fishing around for a moment, Fury knew he was releasing his hard cock and could now feel it poking her stomach. She licked her lips, wishing she could be tasting it, or touching it, but knew she had to obey his every order and not take any initiative of her own.

Again the warm smooth hand caressed her welts, warmth, gentleness and pleasure for a few brief moments before the paddle came again. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Fury cried and moaned loudly now, wiggling against his rock-hard prick despite herself. Wetness dripped down her legs, a fact noticed by the smirking elf. He paused in the paddling to caress and admire the angry red welts he had made on her large ass cheeks, then to run his fingers against her soaked crotch, wiggling them slightly against the wedged in panties.

“You are such a dirty slut,” he purred. “Now what to do with you? More of the paddle, or perhaps I should fuck you in that tight little asshole? Or maybe I should let you suck me off?” He grabbed her hair close to her scalp and yanked hard. “Mmmmm – that does sound nice – a good wet blowjob from my filthy bitch?”

The dwarf could only sob and moan in response. Her cunt poured juices of arousal and she wiggled while wrapping her arms around his leg, begging inarticulacy for relief. “Anything dear master!” she cried. “Fuck me, use me! I don’t care!”

The elf stood abruptly, spilling the begging dwarf from lap. “On your hands and knees,” he ordered, grabbing his prick and giving it a few strokes. Crying, sobbing with frustration, Fury obeyed, wiggling her hips desperately.

Deathrage smirked at the sight before him. Tearing her soaked and wedged panties off of her ass he knelt in back of her, giving her bruised globes a firm slap with his bare hand. Grabbing her hips above the welts, he entered her with a quick thrust, enjoying her moan of need and the way she flinched as he smacked her. He fucked her fast and hard, balls slapping against her clit every forward stroke.

Fury came, and came hard – sobbing, moaning, and screaming for an impossible length of time. The blood elf ignored it – her pleasure was inconsequential as far as he was concerned, though it was good for any man’s ego to hear a woman scream like that. He continued to fuck her fast and hard until his climax came at last, pouring his seed deep her tight snatch.

The elf pulled out almost immediately and casually pulled an expensive embroidered napkin off the table to wipe his spent prick dry. Fury had obediently remained on her hands and knees, still trembling from the power of her orgasm. As an afterthought he glanced at her. “Clean yourself up and get dressed. We have work to do,” he ordered as he buttoned up his fly. She looked up at him expectantly as she obeyed. “I have orders from the council itself – you must leave here.”


-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Human Paladin and Dwarven Hunter crouched in the bushes on the side of Fury’s home, speaking in low tones. “Those are two expensive horses in her barn, Soph,” the man gestured in back of him toward the small stable. “They didn’t come cheap or easily.”

“Even blood elves have a horse?” she sputtered indignantly. If the situation was less serious, Reginald would have smiled. His lady really liked horses far more than the dwarven rams.

He glanced toward the front of small home. “Are you sure they are both in there?” he asked, examining the surrounding area for strategic advantage.

Sophie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “She’s lost her touch, Reg,” she nodded. “Fury left a window cracked open somewhere – they be knocking off a piece right now. I’m surprised ye can’t smell it yerself.”

The paladin shuddered despite himself. “No thank you – I think I’d cut my nose off first before I had to smell that.” He frowned at the direction of the front door, drumming his fingers on his knee. With a sigh he looked at Sophie and gently grasped her hand. “I don’t like to leave you alone, but I think it’s time to confront her and take that elf into custody. We both know her power and don’t know what the elf can do. I’m going to fetch Devon and some discreet guildies – don’t do anything while I’m gone. If the elf leaves, simply track him and whisper me.”

The dwarf glared at the wall of the house but nodded dutifully. Although he was her lover, Reginald was her superior, and she was a professional. “I’m serious, Soph – keep your temper in check,” he wagged his finger at her, eyes filled with concern. “We will get them both – you are too dear to me. I do not want to risk losing you – just keep an eye on them.”

A quick kiss and the paladin melted into the woods, amazingly quiet considering the hefty plate armor he wore. Blue eyes watched him go then resumed their vigil, making sure the amorous occupants of the small home were not going anywhere. But not ten minutes after Reg left, Sophie could hear the front door open. A silky, haughty voice in heavily accented common ordered “pack swiftly. I’ll wait for you in the hills north of that dwarven tomb, just south of Arathi, in the Wetlands.”

Sophie stayed frozen in the bushes, her dark brown armor completely concealing her. Not that it mattered – the blood elf strode past to the barn, eyes locked on his destination and never strayed to the side of the house. She heard him saddling one of the horses, and watched him ride out, leaving the barn door carelessly open. He reined to the front of Fury’s home, again out of Sophie’s sight, and she heard him hiss at the priest “forget your furniture – take only small valuables, easy to sell items, and destroy any traces of your craft.”

“I wish you had told me this when you got here.” Sophie could hear the controlled anger strongly colored with tones of pleading in Fury’s voice. “My home and friends! No notice, no time to prepare?”

There was a short pause in the conversation, and the hidden hunter started to quietly reach for her rifle, fearing they suspected a nearby eavesdropper. But evidently the lull in conversation was due to exchanged looks or gestures. Sophie was shocked to hear the elf coldly snap “what friends, my little bitch? I know your temper – I seriously doubt anyone here will miss you.”

Fury’s breath hitched, whether from anger or heart break, Sophie could not tell. But the elf didn’t pause. “It is time for you to start anew. You knew this would happen when you betrayed your precious Alliance. The Horde will take care of you – value you for your skills and bravery. Do I even need to say what would happen if any of your kind,” and the dwarf in the bushes could plainly hear the distain in his voice aimed at her race, “if they found out your little, hem, hobby? One of our hunters have found traces of spies near Silverpine, and one of the allies who was gifted with a knife have been driven out of their territory – it is most likely the Alliance know about the Soulbinders.”

Without waiting for an answer, the blood elf wheeled his horse away and galloped down the road. Sophie shook her head at the irony of it all. Fury was a self-serving murderer, yet she sounded totally besotted over an elf that couldn’t stand her or her people. And she was about to die for what she did to her sons. Eyes narrowed in hate, the hunter that had lost so much griped her gun and crept around the corner of the house to the door, crouching low under the level of the windows. Although Reg told her to stay, if she let Fury leave they would loose both of them.

The door was wide open, and Fury was frantically stuffing objects into magically expanding packs, tears running down her cheeks. “Going somewhere?” Sophie snarled in a less than friendly voice, gun held ready in her hands, trigger finger twitching in anticipation.

“You!” the shadow priest hissed, hatred radiating off her in waves. By the look in the hunter’s eyes, Fury knew she had been found out. “Don’t try to stop me – I will not leave my Deathrage!”

The furious mother blasted the priest with a freezing trap and stood in her frozen face. “I just want to know why!” she cried, tears running down her own face. “Flinty loved ye! Spark never did anything to ye! I know it was you – I found me boys in Hinterlands, chained to yer wall.”

Although Fury couldn’t move, guilt and hatred shone in her eyes. Sophie knew there were only seconds left on the trap, and she whispered the spells on her bullet to put the priest to sleep. She wanted her dead, but she wanted answers more. Fury, however, had no such concerns and wanted her enemy permanently removed from the earth. As Sophie was preparing her bullet, the trap broke early and the priest hit her with an ice trap of her own, freezing her feet to the ground. Leaping sideways to dodge the furious hunter’s bullets, Fury whipped out a dagger from her belt and struck, sinking it deep into the silver-haired dwarf’s ribs.

It was at that moment that Reginald and Devon burst through the open door way, just in time to see Sophie collapsing to the ground, blood pouring from her side. The paladin drew his sword and swung, while shouting his lady’s name with fear.

Fury was a powerful priest, and nothing went as the two men wanted. With a gesture of her hands she blasted Devon with a shadow spell that threw him across the room, landing him charred and crumpled over a table. Another swift cast and Reg was frozen, stuck to the wall, weaponless and frantically looking at Sophie, bleeding on the floor. The hunter was dying, her eyes riveted to his face with a weak, encouraging smile.

His heart freezing with fear, Reginald could see the dagger handle clearly protruding from Sophie’s side. It was a Soulbinder. He struggled against the icy restraints, his frantic thrashing cutting his wrists and arms. If he could get to his lady, he could hearth her back to Nissa and Breanna. But with a primal cry of loss, he saw the knife disappear as the light from the dwarf’s eyes dimmed as well. Sophie was gone, and gone for good.