The small town of Misdrobar had become a desolate place, taken under the control of a malicious being known to many as the Lord. The town was to be found several miles from the great Sizdro desert at the southern reach of the human realm of Tokal Dorr. Wide stretches of forest surrounded the town, all but one single path claimed by the woods. That path trailed into the mountains and led to the nearest human city, but none travelled it any more. Not since the Lord had come.

The Lord had reputedly hailed from the dark lands of the south, where the great evils still reigned. He came to Misdrobar three summers ago and that was when life had become hard for the townsfolk. The Lord pronounced himself ruler of the town, killing their chief and taking the largest house for himself. For the first few days the townsfolk resisted him, but he enforced his rule with pain. The first to speak out against him was found nailed to the wall of his house. The next was killed as his home burnt down around him. A total of seven men were killed before the Lord was satisfied.

From then on the Lord ruled with terror. Only very essential trade was allowed and even then it was restricted. The Lord’s savage creatures patrolled the forests, killing anyone who tried to leave and bringing their remains back to display as a warning. The Lord took his choice of the townsfolk’s daughters and forced the strongest of their sons into his own private army. If they refused, their families were punished.

News of the town’s plight had spread far on certain levels. Seers and Mages sensed the evil in Misdrobar. One or two of the villagers had managed to send word to the human cities before the Lord’s grip on the town was tightened. The birds and beats of the forests alerted the masters of the wild in the elven realms. But the creatures of evil were spreading out from the southern lands, and the armies of the free were unable to spare the men to free Misdrobar.

However, the temple of the light in Draenii had sent one of their warrior-mages to settle the problem, one single warrior to destroy the Lord and his monstrous pets.

Siril of Draenii was still young by the terms of her people, only seventy-three summers. As such she was still only an acolyte of the light. She had been promised that, if successful, her task would end her training and she would pass to the rank of low mage. Still, this was her first taste of the horrors in the world she shared with so many others.

The town was quiet from where she saw it, seated atop one of the taller trees. She could see maybe a dozen homesteads enclosed in the town wall, all made from sawn timber and thatch. To anyone else it would be an ordinary human town, full of mundanity and ignorance, but Siril had the perceptions of a mage atop her elvish senses. She could see a dark cloud hanging above the town, a sign of the evil that had spread here. With fortune she could end it.

Her thoughts took her back to Master Kriai at the temple, and the day he gave her the instructions to come here. He had seemed particularly concerned that she find success, and she was more than a little worried. There were tales running through the temple of mages who had embarked on what appeared to be simple tasks, but had failed to return. It was possible that hers would be a similar case.

Elves were immortal, but they could still die. Siril did not want to.

She dropped from the tree, landing amongst the fallen leaves. She knew it would not be long before the Lord’s beasts found her. She needed to move quickly. She didn’t know exactly what the Lord controlled. She knew of many foul creatures roaming the world, some so deadly that an army couldn’t destroy them. Master Kriai had faced many dangerous foes, and even he had not seen everything.

She broke into a run, darting through the trees, her cloak floating on the wind behind her. She could hear sounds in the shadows that sent a shiver through her. She had heard those sounds before, in the deep library cellars of the temple.

It was the sound that demons made.

She slowed to a halt and reached to her hip for the falchion that hung there. It’s glistening curved blade, etched with the sacred charm of protection, shone out into the shadows of the forest, surrounding her with a bright glow. The blade was a gift from her mother, a reward for her induction into the temple of the light. It was supposed to protect her from the greatest of evils.

A shape passed through the trees ahead of her. Siril muttered an incantation of hope, wishing for the spirits to grant her speed and strength. It was the first spell that she had ever learnt, because without speed, without strength, a warrior was nothing. As the shape passed by again Siril caught a glimpse of an enormous spiked hound, with fur a deep shade of red. Its eyes were as shadow and it seemed alight. It was most certainly dangerous, and Siril felt terror just seeing it for a few beatings of the heart.

She heard the demonic sound again and the hound emerged from the shadows, though it kept its distance from the light of her falchion. It was huge, at least a head taller than her, and she had no wish to face the beast on its own terms.

She turned and darted towards the nearest tree, hurrying up the side and into the branches. The hound tried to follow, cutting into the trunk with its huge claws, but it couldn’t reach her. Siril had grown up in the forests of Draenii. She was superior in the trees.

The hound dropped back to the ground and began to stalk away, but Siril wasn’t finished. As a servant of the light she was duty bound to end the darkness wherever it was discovered. She sheathed her falchion and slid her longbow from over her shoulder. Taking a slender arrow from her quiver. She waited until the creature was away from the tree and she fired, finding her target in the back of the creature’s neck. The beast let out a shrill screech that echoed through the forest and soon collapsed.

As Siril dropped back to the ground she saw the hound begin to fade and shrink, it’s flesh rotting in mere seconds as it was sent back to whatever hellish realm from which it had come. For a moment Siril began to worry that its screams had summoned others, but the forest was silent. She hooked her bow over her shoulder and hurried on.

By nightfall she had reached the trade path that followed to the mountains. Knowing that the Lord’s beats patrolled the path she pressed on. She had been well trained to pass unseen in darkness and she called to the spirit on concealment to aid her passage. Even the monsters of the evil realms would not see her with the spirit’s aid.

She set off down the path at a brisk pace, keeping a hand close to her falchion but the weapon stayed sheathed. She did not want to give away her presence and her master had warned her many times of the creatures of the dark. She had no wish to be killed by one of them. She would not share her father’s fate.

Before long she could see the town of Misdrobar ahead of her, lit only by a small torch above the closed gate. It did not seem welcoming and Siril knew that she would not be afforded the right to enter at this late hour. The townsfolk were understandably wary of strangers, even before the Lord’s cursed arrival. She could not enter until morning.

She sensed death as she woke at dawn and she opened her eyes to see another of the demonic hounds below the branch she sat on, picking over the body of a human man. His back had been torn open and Siril could see flesh hanging from the hound’s teeth. She guessed that he had tried to seek help and had found only the jaws of a monster.

She remained in the tree until the hound had left, carrying the body in its huge jaws. When it was out of sight she dropped down and returned to the road. She could see that the gates to Misdrobar were still closed, but two men stood at the peak, watching the road carefully. They were permitted crossbows, but only because they were too scared of the Lord to try and harm him.

Siril turned away, unseen by the humans, and returned to the forest to prepare herself. If the Lord could summon demons to do his work he had to be a powerful summoner. She had to tread carefully. Many warrior from the temple had fallen to such foes, especially her own father. She had to be sure that she wouldn’t fail in her mission, however nervous she was. If she failed then the people of this town would surely die.

But it was a lot to do. This was her first mission. What if she failed, or worse? What if she fell to the dark? What if she betrayed the lives of her parents by becoming the very thing they had hunted? She couldn’t live with such a fate. She couldn’t fail.

She stood and checked her quiver, finding a dozen arrows inside. Each was tipped with a barbed head, etched with light runes. Satisfied with the contents she slipped the quiver over her shoulder alongside her bow. Then she sheathed her falchion and returned to the road. Though worried about failure, she had work to do. Someone had to bring the light to this place.

Both crossbows were aimed towards her as she neared the gate. She looked up and sae fear on the faces watching her. In an attempt to ease their worry she spread out her hands away from both weapons.

“Identify yourself!” One of the men shouted down.

“I’m just a traveller.” Siril announced. She was loath to give her name away. If the Lord learnt that an elf had come to Misdrobar, he would doubtless have her killed straight away, before she was even able to see him. “I’m passing through to the southern realms and I need rest and supplies.”

“There are no paths going south from here.” The human argued.

“The paths are dangerous this time of year.” Siril told him. “I thought it best not to travel them. May I enter to find supplies?”

The two men turned to each other and Siril’s sensitive hearing caught hurried and nervous whispers, discussing her arrival. The one who’d spoken did not want to allow her inside, though she felt it was more for her protection than danger to the town. The other was willing to grant her entrance, seeing that she was a warrior and believing that she could maybe help them. They argued for a short while before the speaker turned back to Siril.

“You can enter.” He said, and Siril saw the gate swinging open. “But don’t expect much. You’ll doubtless find it was a mistake to come here.”

Siril nodded and stepped forwards through the gates into the town of Misdrobar. The townsfolk were already awake and going about their daily tasks. Each of them glanced up at Siril as she walked silently into their town. She could easily see the fear running across their faces. They were nervous of her, and she could understand how they saw her.

As with the rest of her people she was a tall and slim woman, taller than many humans. Her long silken hair was tied into a tail and folded in half, bound by a leather band to hold it up out of her way. She wore a pale travelling jerkin and leather britches, untouched by the cold of the northern realms as others were. Her arms were kept bare, with leather gloves covering her hands, and a pair of thick dragon hide boots served her to walk upon. Though the hood was kept down she was still imposing to these humans, who had likely never seen an elf before. She noticed that many of the humans were paying close attention to the weapons she carried.

Her longbow was the weapons that she was better trained with. It was a finely made weapon, decorated with silver and gold. The quiver was similarly decorated and held at most twenty arrows. These she kept tipped with heads of silver, for if she ever encountered the beasts of the moon. Her falchion was also edged with silver. It hung in its leather sheath at her hip.

She watched as the humans ceased their work to watch her. The town fell silent and she could sense their fear of her. The last stranger to arrive at their town had been the Lord. They did not trust strangers. However, she noticed that one individual, a girl in adolescence, was watching her with something other than fear. She was watching with hope.

“I come seeking your Lord.” Siril called out. “Where might I find him?” There was no reply. Siril turned and saw a body lying outside one of the buildings. It was the young man she’d seen earlier, being torn open by the Lord’s hound. She looked away and faced a tall man standing in the doorway, carrying a large cleaving knife. “Where is he?” She asked the man, but he just turned away and went back into the wooden lodge.

“Why do you want him?” A voice asked. It was a man’s voice, but quiet and timid. Siril turned to see a middle aged man standing in the middle of the path. He wore light armour that seemed to have rusted somewhat. He had no weapon, but Siril noticed that the other humans regarded him highly. There was something militant about him and she guessed that he had served, maybe in Kernvil or another of the nearby cities.

“To kill him.” She told him. She read his face, but saw nothing but a slight loss of colour.

“leave.” He said after a while. “Leave now, or there’ll be trouble.”

“Trouble for who?” Siril asked. His threatening tone was unconvincing.

“Everyone.” The human answered. “You can’t win against the Lord. He’ll kill you and then he’ll punish one of us.” He briefly glanced towards the adolescent girl. Siril noticed a similarity between them. The girl had to be the man’s daughter, or a niece. “I won’t risk him hurting my girl.”

“I will not leave until I am finished.” Siril forcefully said. She saw some of the men withdrawing weapons of varying sorts. “Where is your Lord?”

A high screech answered her, and one of the demonic hounds appeared from behind the furthest and largest building. The townsfolk hurriedly hid within their homes. The man who had confronted Siril ran towards his daughter and pulled her inside. Siril turned towards the largest house and saw a tall human standing in the doorway. He was huge, reminding her of the forest trolls that dwelt in the southern forests and waged war on the people of Draenii. He matched the greenskin physique almost perfectly. Ragged dark hair covered his scalp and chin and he looked upon Siril with an expression of amusement With her elf eyes she could see foul runes carved into his flesh. That was when she noticed the paleness of his flesh.

The Lord was not a summoner of demons. He was a demon held within a human body.

“It’s been a long time since a soul like yours had the courage to face me.” He said, walking towards her. “Clearly you believe you can defeat me.”

Siril said nothing, but placed a hand on her falchion, curling her fingers around the handle. The hound saw her movement and growled, but the Lord stayed it with a wave of his hand. The hound hissed at Siril and softly padded into the forest.

“I have come to free these people.” Siril said firmly, though her situation was very different. She had been sent to fight a human. Could she now face a demon and win? They were rumoured to be the strongest and most deadly creatures alive. She spoken to a demon hunter once, and found him to be a lifeless as the hosts that demons wore.

But she had come this far, and these people needed help. She would give it, however much they feared her presence.

“Then try it.” The Lord said. He made no move to claim a weapon, and Siril knew that he wouldn’t need one. She slid the falchion from its sheath, invoking the protection of the spirits.

Then she charged.

The fight was now over. Siril lay unconscious in the middle of the town, her falchion embedded in her hip. She had been successful, and she remained alive. The Lord lay dead close by, his throat sliced open. His hounds had been sent back to their source. The people of Misdrobar were free.

But Siril had paid a high price for her victory, one that she would never recover from.

The demon now dwelt inside her.