PensterScribbledorf

 A crow’s crowing snapped him out of his thoughts. Worrying about it wouldn’t do anything. He was on his way to Aenerthel; he would find the answers to his questions in the Aenerthalian library. The biggest in all of the Southern Kingdoms, they say, and with all his heart he hoped it to be true. A library that big must have the answer to his questions. The crow's voice cracked through the landscape again, howling like the wind. Durn's arm whipped back while he spun in the air, and a flick of the wrist presented a dagger pointed straight at the present danger. Furiously pumping arms sent four daggers flying. Not just any daggers,

 Durn absentmindedly rubbed his left shoulder. Feeling has never been the same there since his encounter with Her. He cursed himself for letting the Immortal get too close. Their touch sucked life out of any living creature, he knew it well. Subconsciously, he vowed for the thousandth time not to make the same mistake again. But what could he have done differently? He barely understood what happened in that encounter. The Immortals were completely beyond his comprehension. «Raven’s eye! How am I supposed to fight something I don’t know? Lucky I came out of that one with all the hairs on my neck. And my knife lost forever!..

  "I gotta get it back." No one heard the words, but that didn't matter to Durn. Angrily stalking down the empty road, his black chain belt was the only other sound. His soft leather boots were whispers, as were his weapons. Poking out from his large figure were two swords. Identical blue-steel longswords that would’ve been glowing if it were not high noon. Black was his preferred attire. Hunting in the dark required it to be so; different shades of black served to break up his image in low-light and nearly made him invisible, except for the glowing swords. But he also enjoyed the colour in in of itself. A void, a nothing, erasin