36.5ᴘᴀᴛʀᴇᴏɴ.ᴄᴏᴍ/sᴛʀᴀᴛᴏᴛʜʀᴀx

"I- what? H-how?!"

The snap crack of a breaking neck made her look up and she only had a moment to cry out before the dead body of the other women held in the Lord's tail was flung toward her with all the power of a high leveler. The pregnant woman collided with her brutally and she was blown out of the tent flap and sent tumbling across the ground, knife flying from her hand to go skittering across the dirt. She collided with a Lamia's tail in a heap.

She clutched her arm, the impact had been hard enough to bruise bone and she winced and hissed breath between her teeth as she gathered herself. She looked up to see that the Lamia she had rolled up against was Glyrieth's brother.

"What's this now? Are you okay?"

"Hel-"

Before she could finish however Lord Wranvyre burst from the tent and drew all eyes. Lyra was amazed to see he barely looked the same person, tears ran down his cheeks and his body language was stricken.

"She came back, she came back! But we've been betrayed!"

"Woah, hold on now, calm yourself Wranvyre, what are you talking about?"

Wranvyre jabbed an accusing shaky finger at Lyra.

"That freak Mutt, she- she brought Glyrieth back, we were momentarily reunited, but this thing, this wretched criminal demanded a hundred times the payment, and when we denied her she murdered Gylrieth in hot blooded retribution!

"NO! No! It cannot be so!"

"Glyrieth's dead body is incontrovertible, she was slaughtered by this money hungry wretch." He ripped aside the flap to his tent showing the body of Glyrieth in plain view of the entrance conveniently arranged to show her bloody neck.

A hand grabbed at Lyra's hair and she was dragged up into the air, the furious brother got in her face, then he grabbed her arm and held up her blood covered hand.

"What have you done!" screamed the brother.

"I-"

"Hold her still, I'm going to end her, I cannot allow this sub-sapient trash to breathe a moment longer."

A green fireball began to coalesce in Wranvyres palms, it was smaller than most, just the size of a marble, but it gave off a frighteningly deadly air.

"It wasn't me! He did it!" cried Lyra, although none of the watching Lamia looked like they believed her.

"Lies! She has a heart as black as any monster. A defect of her mutt birth. Just look at her bloodied hands, the hands of a murderer!" roared Wranvyre.

Glyrieth's brother held her up, a cold look in his eyes.

Lyra could only stare as the green flaming marble darkened and Wranvyre prepared to throw it.

This was the end, she was sure of it. She had come to this dungeon town hoping to start a new life only to be caught up in another plot.

She closed her eyes, there was nothing left to do, the Lamia who held her was far above her level and his grip was as iron.

Mother I am sorry, I couldn't amount to much.

A hilt suddenly and unexpectedly materialised in her hand out of thin air. The black knife!

She didn't hesitate. Her arm whipped around and she stabbed the Lamia who held her. The knife sunk deep. She pulled it free as the Lamia screamed and plunged it in again, and again, leaving a dotted row of wounds up his tail and abdomen. The Lamia dropped her as agony made him lose control of his faculties.

Lyra used her Skill faster than ever before in her life. She vanished. The green fireball shot from Wranvyre's hands like a straightened bolt of lightning, stabbing through the air where Lyra had been visible a second before. It hit nothing however and snapped into the dirt leaving a small smoking hole.

"Healer! Get me a healer!" cried Wranvyre.

"Fuck the healer, kill the mutt," groaned the brother, as he sunk down to the ground, his hands trying to cover the bloody puncture wounds.

A healer pushed through the forming crowd and rushed up to the fallen Lamia. The commotion was large enough that it had drawn levelers from other parts of the camp as well as the nearby Lamia.

"You all saw it! That mutt not only murdered my wife but also tried to murder my brother in law!"

The crowd was angered.

"I want her dead, no, I need her dead! The first to bring me the Rescuer's severed head on a gilded platter I shall reward twenty, no, Fifty Thousand Gold!"

The crowd roared.

Lyra looked back at the crowd in dismay as it disintegrated and began sprinting through the tents with weapons drawn, randomly jabbing at the air. Her arm clutched in pain, the black blade clenched in her fist, she hurried away, praying fervently that her invisibility would hold true.