Zellira was walking, slow and grim, down the dark path when Fathoir walked up to her out of the inky darkness before her. She stopped, dug her nails into the silver flower, and turned to him. One of the dark ones. The elite council who ruled her world with cruelty and malice. "Where is Ristina? The others are waiting to see the girl who was supposed to be one of the best assassin's in our order has ever seen...why is she not with you?" he purred through clenched teeth. Zellira winced, fear coursing through her blood and polluting the air itself. "I failed. I could not retrieve the princess. I apologize for my discretion." she said in a level monotone, trying to keep her voice for shaking with fear. Fathoir sneered. "Fine then. If you dare to return without the prize you do not deserve the pleasures you have been given. You will remain the same rank, though there will be...punishment" he spat at her, his words sealing her fate.<br/><br/>She felt hands pull at her from the darkness, dragging her deep into the blackness. She saw a dim light ahead. The red hot glow of metal lit the world before her, cruel instruments of pain standing in a grim row, wickedly reflecting the burning light. Fathoir smiled. "Are you afraid?" he asked, his voice sultry and soft. Zellira said nothing and merely sank to the ground on her knees. "I never was" she said softly as a patterned knife cut down on her back.