• Bright flecks of light reflected in her eyes as she silently advanced down the dim passageway. Once in the past it had been a brightly lit corridor with tapestries woven from silk and gold thread lignin the walls. Once great glass windows would have been through open to catch warm mountain breezes. Once long ago these things would have been. Now, ancient stone crumbled and shards of glass littered the floor. Remnants of the once peaceful past surrounding the carnage of the present. The full moon showed the scene in vivid detail as she approached the old wooden doors, a small dagger was concealed beneath the tattered and travel worn cloak. Its blade black as coal, the handle intricately carved silver, with a pair of dueling dragons. A thin line of crimson blood came down her right arm, her shirt was torn open revealing deep gouges. By the looks of the others, she was the lucky. So many others where dead, and so many more dancing around it. They had all fought with every bit of strength that they could possibly muster against such a force. She had known many would die when she set out for this. They had also followed knowing, they had lain down there lives on one last effort to resist. Now as she gazed upon their contorted bodies she realized it was time to end it all. And the she stepped behind the door, entering into the last battle she would ever face.