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Hunter of Dead

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Join date : 2009-03-05
Age : 42
Location : San Diego, CA

Hunt the Dead #5 Empty
PostSubject: Hunt the Dead #5   Hunt the Dead #5 EmptyMon Jul 12, 2010 3:25 pm

Hunt the Dead #5 35804_138329356178023_122530774424548_399943_7756743_n

Written by Jon Strickland (Prelude, Interludes, and Epilogue written by Craig DeBoard)
Cover Art by Craig DeBoard


The funeral for Tommy Tallfellow wasn't anything grand. There weren't knights to carry his small casket. There weren't speeches made by friends. There's weren't fond memories spoken of.

There was nothing but hatred.

The General of the Knights of Tomath promised Prime minister Zoei Fantasy, that the assassins guild of Acaetus Nimius and especially Sabal, would suffer for their deeds.

He declared war.

The Knights of Tomath would kill Acaetus Nimius.

Aldion wasn't comfortable with the decision. His love afair with Sabal wasn't what conflicted him. She meant nothing to him, and he meant nothing to her. It was one night they shared over a bottle of whiskey and no inhibitions, months ago in Greyshore.

No, Aldion wasn't conflicted over the war because of Sabal. He was conflicted over war itself.

It was the warring factions of Nerin Toth that stopped any unity at all from bringing the undead horde to any type of halt. It was the warring factions that stopped people from uniting and fighting back. It was the warring factions that people consumed themselves with rather than venturing outside the safety of city walls to take back their world.

Aldion stood at the grave of Tommy Tallfellow with the others. War. The mere mention of it brought back memories....memories of his past....

Chapter 1
Blood is Thicker than Water

There are those who believe that we are the authors of fate, that the smallest decision can effect the planet. A butterfly flaps its wings, and on the other side of the world a tornado kills hundreds. A broken man seeks whats lost, for greed or for love, and devastates the world...

"Archers, ready!" roared a grizzled looking elf. He bore scars across his face, his long hair was mostly gray, and the tactful hazel eyes were a window into this man's battle hardened soul. His name was Theyon, and his archers held two lines, the front line crouching to give the second a clear firing range. They were the last defense for the small town of Alemeir.

The main force, a unit of halberd warriors, stood in the front lines, mentally preparing themselves for what was to come.

The scouts returned with grim news, a horde of undead like the world had never seen. Rookies were nervous, veterans waiting in anticipation, but all were thankful for the light of a full moon. It was a good omen in elven mythology and religion. The moans of the approaching beasts were growing louder, the creaking of bows could be heard as archers pulled back their strings, and it was then that the first undead could be seen stepping from the shadows of the moon.

The warriors cried for battle, rallying their brothers. The halberd unit lashed out at the monsters, keeping them at bay with their superior reach, and the archers unleashed a deadly volley into the midst of the horde.

The beasts pressed on, mindlessly impaling themselves onto the halberds in their endless hunger for flesh. The elves cheered wildly at this point, knowing the fight was theirs, but their elation was cut short. The zombies impaled on the halberds still "lived", and now, their weapons were held fast.

The archers quickly launched another two volleys, trying to push back the monsters, but their arrows did nothing. The halberd unit had their swords drawn, but the beasts were already on top of them.

Theyon told the unit to fall back as the archers fired wildly, no more in unison, but each taking any shot they could to try and save a friend or brother. The screams of the forward battalion were the most frightful sound Theyon had ever heard, and he feared that if he survived this, he would never sleep another night without hearing them again.

The archers were now wielding their short swords, and prepared to charge to the aid of their comrades, when deep in the heart of Alemeir, the cries of women and children could be heard.

The denizens of the town's graveyard now walked the streets, and feasted on the flesh of the living...


In midst of the dead town of Alemeir, a lone man stood in the pouring rain, his black cloak was soaked, and the chill of the air cut him to the bone. The sunlight peaked out from behind the clouds and glistened upon the crescent blade of the man's scythe, which he had propped on over his shoulder.

Beneath his blade was a pool of blood, which the rain had cleansed from his weapon. No shelter could warm him, so he sought none, he only stood in the middle of the streets he grew up in, killing any beast that dared to interrupt his grief.

The man who stood in the deserted streets, was Aldion Selek, a future hero of the age, and though it could not be seen for the rain, he wept bitterly for the loved ones he could not defend.

He heard a buzzing sound, and felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. He dropped to the ground grasping the shaft of an arrow that was burrowed deep in him. He tried to blink the rain from his eyes to see who was standing over him, but he'd hit his head when he fell and his vision was blurred.

"Aldion?!" said a surprised voice, Aldion only groaned. "Take him to the shelter! Now!" said the voice again.

"Father?" was all Aldion managed to mutter...


The elf had awoken nearly an hour ago, but said nothing. Aldion sat on the edge of the sick bed, his cloak lying next to him. His wound was bandaged, but still blood could be seen dripping down his chest every now and again.

Theyon, his father, sat across from him. All was silent.

"Everyone's dead?" Aldion asked quietly, his father nodded solemnly. "How have the rest of the cities been?" "We have heard nothing," said Theyon, "I was actually hoping your mercenary travels may have provided some information about whats happening, but I see that it will not." At these words, Aldion grimaced.

"This could not have been seen coming, Aldion, there was no way you could have defended the town, you would have died, or be missing a good chunk of flesh, like me," he told his son, showing the bandage around his forearm. "One of them gnawed the meat off my bone like a turkey leg, is that how you wanted to end up? You were safer where you were."

Aldion looked at his father, about to speak but his father interrupted him. "Its good you are here son, we are leaving at dawn, trying to make way for a safer haven, you will lead the unit with me," he said patting his son on the shoulder, "Get your rest son," was all he said before stepping out of the room.

The First

Aldion and the others left the funeral. Everyone was angry. Tangerine was especially heartbroken. Her mother now insisted on her traveling with the crew of the Sky Palace. Peregren was no longer safe.

The next day Aldion awoke on the ship. He had promised Cholley to go back with him to the wizardress Grettal's shop to continue working on a cure for his condition. While traveling with Cholley they passed a blacksmith shop. The ringing sound of hammer on anvil brought back more memories...

Chapter 2
Breaking the Family Ties

The remaining elves took shelter in smithy's shop, the only stone building in Azure. It was heavily barricaded, and watchmen were posted throughout the night. Nothing would get in. Elves sat on the roof top, hiding deep under tree branches for camouflage, bows ready. True that a four year old could have spotted the out of place branches, but preschoolers were not the enemy this day.

Aldion tossed and turned in his bed, his wound agitating him with every move. He found it impossible to sleep. so he got out of bed and found the closest watchman. "I'll take your watch soldier," Aldion said.

"I can't do that sir, your father's orders," said the soldier, his head hung low in shame, "I was the one who shot you," he said, his voice sort of trailing off. The soldier shook off his shame for the moment, and said, "But I am to assure you sir, nothing can get in this building!"

Aldion nodded, "Good lad." At the compliment, the boy stood a bit taller with self pride, accepting the elder elf's kind words with a slightly nervous smile. The soldier was much younger than Aldion, by a good sixty years at least, and wore his blond hair in the typical youth ponytail.

Aldion patted the soldier on the back and walked into the room with the old forge. He thought of his old friend, Aerick, the town's blacksmith. He remembered often seeking wisdom from the soft spoken craftsmen, and most fondly the forge that created his beloved magical scythe, Reaver.

Aldion heard a loud thud, followed by shuffling and moaning. Something was inside. He walked quietly down one of the short hallways, the room the sound was coming from was open. He peeked around the corner, and saw a zombie stumbling through the sleeping chambers of soldiers.

He ran and jumped on the back of the creature, slamming its face to the ground and smashing it. "Wake up! All of you! We've been infiltrated!" Aldion shouted.

The soldiers shifted only slightly at first, then shakily rose to their feet. They moaned and reached out for the warm flesh. Aldion cursed loudly, but they were unhindered by his profanity and continued on. Aldion closed his eyes and concentrated, it was only moments before he felt the smooth wooden staff of Reaver in his hands. He swung in a wide horizontal arc, slicing two in half at the waist, then kicked one in the face. He was always grateful that Reaver was a magical weapon that would appear in his hand whenever he needed it.

He backed out through the door and slammed it shut, ramming a chair against the handle. He sighed heavily, the survivors had to leave now, it wasn't safe here any longer. He ran quickly down one of the halls, keeping Reaver close.


All was dark, and Aldion sat alone on a rock, just outside of the smith's shop. The crescent blade of Reaver was stabbed into the dirt beside him, covered with blood. He only vaguely paid attention to the footsteps behind him as he handled his grief.Three elves stood behind him, the young elf who'd shot him, and the two archers from the roof top. "Sir," started the young elf, "There is no one else left, the others have turned," he said nervously, looking around constantly. "We should leave while the rain has ceased."

Aldion snatched Reaver from the dirt, "Anthos was it?" The young elf nodded, Aldion continued, "You are right, you should leave," he said throwing a pack of food to the other two elves. They looked at each other, and then Aldion, confused.

Aldion grabbed a bow and a quiver of arrows, "In that pack are enough rations to last you a week, make your way to the nearest city, tell them what happened in Alemeir, if we spread word maybe we can stop this before it spreads to far," as he spoke, he continued throwing things in his own pack.

Anthos stared at him, "And where are you going sir, if not with us?" he asked nervously.

"Peregren. I need answers to whats going on, perhaps get help from the city," he answered, not looking away from his work.

The two archers stood behind Anthos, fighting over a loaf of bread. The taller one punched the other in the face, and then calmly took a bite. "But sir, your father's orders were for me to guard you with my life!" Anthos told his elder.

Aldion stopped for a moment, "I absolve you from the orders of my father, he is dead and you are free to do as you wish," Aldion said coolly.

"But sir," the young elf spoke up.

"My father is dead! I killed him, you saw it with your own eyes!" he said in rage. The young elf was taken aback, and the two other elves stopped their fighting for the moment. Aldion sighed, "I am sorry, but you must go with them Anthos, the rest of our people need you."

Anthos said nothing, only nodded and dutifully walked towards the two archers. The shorter one now had the bread, and was beating the tall one in the head with it.

Aldion sighed as they walked away, "An elite unit there," he said with a small grin, throwing his pack over his shoulder and starting out for Peregren.

The Second

Aldion and Cholley arrived back of Grettal's.

"Eh, didn't expect you two to come back so soon. The potion is not quite ready yet," the old woman said as she read from an old leather bound tome while mixing an odd orange powder into a brown liquid.

"There's a war coming. It's believed later today the Knights of Tomath plan to attack the wood-mill on the south end of town," Cholley said, hopping off of Aldion's shoulder and walking on the counter near Grettal.

"And you want to be there?" Grettal asked, already knowing the answer.

"YEAH! Tommy was my friend! That guild needs to be stopped before someone else gets hurt," Cholley stated in excited tones.

"Hmmmm. I see. You do realize, because you lost your memories when this curse was originally cast upon you, it could very well cause you to lose your memories after you drink this potion. As I said before, there may be....side effect," Grettal replied.

"Am I needed here?" Aldion asked the ancient looking woman.

"No. No you aren't. Return in an hour for your friend. With any luck this will work," Grettal informed him.

Aldion left Cholley and began to head back to the Sky Palace. He, Turk'en and Erron agreed with Hellcat that Tommy's death shouldn't go unanswered and the group would be meeting to determine how best to help the knights. He could only imagine the screams and moans of those who would fight. Of those who would die. He thought of another time when he heard screams and moans....

Chapter 3
Hunters Aren't Born, They're Made

The goblin's screamed, the zombies moaned, and Aldion sighed in resignation. He had to help the damn beasts, he didn't want more beings turned into these things if he could help it.

Reaver in hand, he lept from the bushes, slashing a zombie vertically in half. Everything and everyone stopped, focusing on Aldion. The goblins screamed their war cry and charged at him, and the zombies lurched for his flesh.

"No you stupid idiots! I'm helping you! Kill them first then I'll kill you!" Aldion roared, dropping an elbow on top of a zombie goblin's skull.

The goblins grunted to one another, nodded and began stabbing the zombies. The goblin chief stabbed one of the monsters as it lurched for Aldion, his spear tip driving through its brain. Aldion looked at the small, and amazingly hideous beast in surprise.

"You fresh meat, they taste bad. We kill you next," he said with an evil smile.

Aldion shrugged, at least he wouldn't feel bad for killing them now, he thought as he stabbed a dagger through a zombie's jaw and into its brain.

Reaver dug deep into the undead, blood and brain matter covered Aldion and the goblins, turning the ground to mud. Skill, which the goblins already had little of, soon gave way to just mindlessly slashing and bashing the zombies. The elf spun with Reaver, taking out one of the zombies at its legs, then stomping its head into the mud, covering his boots with brain gore. Behind him he heard a shout of joy as the goblins took down the last zombie.

Aldion collapsed on a rock, breathing heavy. He laid Reaver across his legs, keeping watch on his allies as they caught their breath.

The goblin chief was still taking in deep breaths, "Elf," he had to pause as he gasped in a breath, "If we try eat you, you kill us dead?"

Aldion only nodded, flexing his grip on his scythe. The chief nodded, "Me thought so, we leave now," he said, running away. The other goblins were confused, but followed their leader.

Alone now, Aldion sighed and leaned back against a tree. "Helping goblins? Whats this world coming to?" he asked himself. He remembered the good days, when he would have probably been hired to kill these goblins, and now he's saving them. His inner monologue was interrupted by moaning and shuffling behind him, "Its going to be a really long day..." he said as a small horde of zombies stepped from the tree line.


"Why are those monsters there, mommy? They scare me..." whispered a young, half- elven girl. Her bright green eyes shimmered with freshly shed tears, and she clung to her mother close. "Is Mister Richards going to be okay? That other man bit him really hard, then a bunch of other people started biting him too!" She said sadly, obviously concerned for her friend.

Her mother, a human woman by the name of Tayla, laid on a pallet of blankets, her skin pale from loss of blood. She was trying to speak to her daughter, but she was weak and her words failed her. Tayla shook violently from time to time, causing the damp cloth to fall from her forehead.

Tayla's daughter, Thalai, looked to an elder female, another human. "Miss Sara, is mommy ok?" she asked innocently, lifting her head from her mother's stomach to gaze at the old woman. The child's sweet green eyes nearly made Miss Sara weep.

What could she say? Half of Tayla's shoulder had been bitten off, blood poured uncontrollably from the wound, and all she could do was wrap a new bandage around it. Tayla would be lucky to live through the night, but then again, they all would.

"Your mommy is strong honey, mommy's strong," she said, tears streaming silently down her face.

They were lucky to meet Gravel Stonebeard, a weapon smith by trade and one of the few survivors, as they escaped from their neighborhood. He was an especially stout dwarf, with a bushy salt and pepper beard. He spoke with a gruff voice and had an even gruffer demeanor, but Thalai instantly took a liking to him, and as much he denied it, Gravel felt the same for her.

They now took refuge in his workshop, hiding in the upper level.

For the time they were safe, the workshops first story was solid stone, with only one door, which was blocked by the "security system", a huge rock blocking the door from the inside (the dwarf believed in simplicity).

The elderly woman finally built up the courage to look down into the streets, she cringed at the sight. The city wasn't dead, by whatever gods may have been she wished it was. This was some perverse form of life, something she never dreamed she'd see.

It was a city of undeath, Velnraak's entire populace turned to zombies...

Zombies filled the buildings and streets, corpses that had not risen were being devoured, he even saw a small dog being eaten. The only hope he had was that he'd heard two gunshots, but now there was no sound but the undead and their constant moaning. Then he saw what he was looking for. In a city of utter darkness, one light stood out. Zombies flooded the base, but were kept out, and in the upper room he saw a silhouette in the window.

He ran and started hopping roof tops until he was on top of the desired building. He was planning to swing in through the window, but a shotgun blast came up through the roof right next to him, causing splinters to spray into his right side and a large wide hole to take the place of shingles.

Aldion dropped through the roof into the room, his hands up in surrender as he landed, "I'm a survivor! I'm not bitten." He surveyed the room quickly, counting three bodies, one he recognized as being a little girl.

The gruff dwarf held a shotgun pointed right at Aldion, "My name is Gravel Stonebeard, I've two shells in this gun, and ye have three seconds to start explain' what ye are doing in my house!" said Gravel, cocking the shot gun.

The Third

Aldion returned to the Sky Palace. Erron was in a foul mood due to a massive headache from the beating he took from Browden. He stood at the rail of the ship. Erron knew the crew wouldn't be leaving Peregren now. Not until Tommy's death was avenged. Not until Acaetus Nimius was dealt with. Erron was angry. It was bad enough he was wanted in this city. Luckily no one had recognized him due to the passage of time. But what was worse was that he feared he would inevitably run into Sabal, the evil female darkling that held so much control over Erron when they were young.

Aldion didn't even both to approach Erron. He knew how angry Erron was.

Browden wore an eye patch with a dirty bandage under neath it. A bandage was also wrapped around his left hand. His missing eye and missing left pinky finger certainly didn't make the large man seem any intimidating.

Aldion wondered what would happen to people like the crew of the Sky Palace. Zoei believed that Tangerine would be safest with the crew. But was this crew something Zoei really wanted her daughter a part of? Browden was certainly one to worry about. The big man didn't seem to like anyone.

Aldion pulled out a flask of whiskey he had purchased in the city and approached the big man.

He remembered back to a time when he shared a drink with another person...

Chapter 4
Bad First Impressions

Aldion stood still, hands raised, explaining all that transpired with the Alemeir, and how he got here.

The dwarf passed a flask to the elf, "Its ale, all I got left now."

Aldion sipped it and looked around the room, saying nothing. Gravel watched his gaze, "The old woman's throat was ripped out when I came back in, and the little girl had been bitten by her mother, I had no choice," the dwarf said somberly.

"I see. My father died at my blade," said Aldion, handing back the flask, "I could not leave him in such a hellish state, he would have wanted death could he have asked," he told himself more than the dwarf.

The dwarf drained the flask, "Ye need to leave lad, its not safe here," Gravel said rifling through his drawers.

Aldion nodded, "You're right, lets go." The elf started for the window, but the dwarf was still digging through drawers. "We have to leave, find more survivors, maybe we can take back the city," he said hopefully.

Gravel only shook his head. "I cannae be going with ye lad," he said, rolling up his sleeve to show a deep bite on his forearm. He looked at Thalai, the little body lying motionless on the floor, "She bit me, I could not be shootin' her 'til I knew for sure if she was turned, elf, I couldn't," he said softly.

He continued, "I'm infected now, there's no goin' back on that," Aldion flexed his grasp on his obsidian longsword, "No lad, I've not turned yet. Before I go, these monsters are goin' with me."

The dwarf smiled as he pulled a key from a drawer. He walked over and gave it to the elf, "The tavern across the street, did ye see it?"

Aldion nodded.

"Good lad, this key will open all the doors, go in through the roof, get down into the cellar as quickly as ye can, understand."

"Yes, Master Stonebeard," Aldion said, "What will you do?"

Gravel picked up another, bigger, flask and slowly sipped it, "Me lad, I'm gonna enjoy my last bit of ale, and send everyone last one of these beasts I can to hell."

The sound of cracking wood came from downstairs, "They're breaking through the door boy, go now," Gravel said, taking a long draw from the flask.

Aldion jumped from the window onto the balcony of the next building and quickly made his way to the Tavern.


The wooden door cracked under the stress of the horde, then it finally gave way, shattering to pieces. The undead started piling through, mindlessly snapping a trip wire. There was a loud explosion and metal shards blasted the zombies, killing a quantity of those in the front.

The zombies simply walked over their fallen comrades, then began milling around again, seeing no food in the house. Gravel pounded the butt end of his shotgun on the floor of the upstairs, alerting the zombies to his presence.

Undead started furiously climbing the stairs, causing another trap to go off. The bookcase that been perched at the top of the stairs fell over, crushing two zombies, then slid down the stairs, knocking the rest off their feet

The undead were unfazed by most of this, though one was missing a leg and continuously fell on its face. They could now see their prize, a meaty dwarf. "Ye'll not eat me monsters," he said, holding his old war hammer tightly in his grasp. The horde lurched for his flesh, wishing to devour him, though it would never satisfy their ceaseless hunger. He swung horizontally, smashing two with heads with the first swing. Keeping his momentum flowing, he guided the hammer into a downwards arc, smashing a zombie completely.

The years had been hard on him, and he was already breathing heavy. He dropped the hammer and backed away to his bed, the undead close behind him. He pulled out a six shooter in his right hand and took 3 shots, only managing to take out one of the monsters. He cursed himself for missing, but he was shaking terribly now. The disease, the infection was taking over, what was that taste he was craving? He felt his mind going, his senses were fading.

The undead slowed their pace, they gazed at him emptily, uncaring. Gravel was confused, but it slowly dawned on him thats how they viewed one of their own. He was turning quicker than anticipated, he had to hurry. He felt his limbs stiffen, his body slowing, the undead all around him simply stumbled about. Why did he feel an urge to join them?! He had to resist, he must.

It took all of his strength and will, but he finally managed to get the chest from under his bed. He opened it carefully, not revealing treasure, but all manner of wires and pipes. He turned a valve and the sound of gas leaking could be heard ominously throughout the room.

He cocked the hammer on his pistol placed the tip under his chin, "I'll die before I join ye," he said just before pulling the trigger.



Aldion stood on the roof of the tavern, staring dazed at the remains of the work shop. There was nothing left but an empty stone shell that used to be the shops first floor, littered with ash and smoking debris. He hung his head in silent respect and prayed, and it wasn't until now, when he felt truly alone that he wondered, was there anyone left to pray to?

He felt the edge of a blade rest against his throat, causing a small drop of blood to drip down his neck. Aldion opened his eyes to see a human just before him, he was a fiercely angry looking man, and he wore is black hair cropped short. "I'll rip your throat out if you so much as even breathe to deep, you got that, elf?" He said darkly, applying a bit more pressure with the blade.

A darkling stood behind Aldion, caught in the elf's peripheral vision. Aldion felt his sleeves and pant legs being rolled up, the darkling nodded, evidently finding everything satisfactory. "He's clean, Erron," he said simply, going to stand behind the human.

The blade moved from Aldion's throat, and the elf could breathe easy again. "Do you always violate people's privacy instead of formal introductions?" Aldion asked sarcastically.

The human didn't smile, and it appeared he had not for a long while, "You have ten seconds to give me a reason not to kill you," he said caustically, spinning a his sword in his hand.

"How does, 'I'm not going to try eating you' work?" Aldion asked.

Erron looked at him coldly, "I won't kill you," Aldion nodded, "But I really don't like you already," the human finished, then turned to walk away.

The elf sighed and looked at the darkling, "Is he always so charming?" Aldion asked.


Aldion found Turk'en on the ship. The two spoke of Tommy's death and of Sabal killing the halfling. Aldion didn't mention his one night affair he spent with sabal a few months back. They spoke of the coming war. The Knights would invade the woodmill in town, which was believed to house the main forces of Acaetus Nimius in the city of Peregren. It would be a bloody battle. The assassin's guild was no small threat, and the Knights wouldn't quit without a fight. While Tommy hadn't been anyone of any real reknown to the Knights, Prime Minister Zoei was a personal friend to General Kargin. And the General wouldn't let his men rest until Acaetus Nimius was destroyed.

Aldion thought of the coming war. While it was sad that Tommy died, Aldion saw all of this for what it really was.


Tommy was killed due to politics.

Politics that stopped the people of Nerin Toth from uniting against the undead.

Politics that would end up being the undoing of the people of Nerin Toth.

Aldion hated this coming war to the city of Peregren. Turk'en seemed excited for some action. Aldion felt confused. He needed someone to talk to who could see more than just the glory of battle.

He went to find Cholley. Eventually he made it back to Madam Grettal's magic shop.

"Hello Ma'am, how goes things with Cholley?" Aldion asked the old woman.

"See for yourself," she said slightly disappointed and stepped to the side. Behind the counter curled up in the fetal position and gently rocking back and forth was a full sized man. It was Cholley!

"It---it worked! But what's wrong with him?" Aldion asked confused.

"He keeps referring to himself as 'Leif'," Grettal replied.

"Hmmm. Leif....Leif it's me. Aldion. Do you remember me?" Aldiona asked his friend.

"I warned you of possible side effects," Grettal said.

Aldion ignored the woman. "Leif. Hey, are you OK?" Aldion questioned.

Leif slowly stood up and nodded.

"Come on, we need to get to the ship. There's a lot that needs to be talked about. You sure you're OK?" Aldion continued, worried about his friend, as the two made their way to the exit of the shop.

Aldion didn't notice what happened next. But Grettal did.

Leif slowly turned toward Grettal.

"Lehti," he whispered softly, his eyes glowing, almost looking like flames.

Grettal was left alone in her shop.

"And then the butterfly flapped it's wings..." the old woman said.


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