<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong><em><span class="bbc_u">The Black Dove</span></em></strong></span></span></div><div align="center">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b0/d1/8b/b0d18b161afc56583fde7158f7d69c31.jpg)</div><br/>In the foothills south of Blackspire rested an impressive villa, a vacation home belonging to House Zellirion. Imrae Naerth padded silently through the corridors. Slipping past the guards had been no trouble for one possessed of her skills. Her target, Lord Drovano Zellirion, was here along with a woman who was most certainly not his wife. She had seen the flickering of the candlelight in their bedroom window, the bedroom she was now approaching.<br/><br/>It laughable really. The Lord was either so confident of his safety or so concerned about his privacy that there weren't even guards outside the bedchamber. Yet as Imrae approached the door, she paused, her killer's instincts telling her that something was wrong. The flicker of candlelight could still be seen beneath the door, and yet she heard none of the expected sounds of an illicit tryst. No impassioned moans, no creaking bedframes, not even a whispered platitude. Nothing, save the wind that swept across the hills.