Fanatic

Thoughts seethed through his mind. Wrongs, slights, faces, words, they all jeered at him from the corners of his mind. He listened to them, let them wash over him... he indulged himself with with a brief moment of their powerful song. Their message of hate and vengeance gave him purpose.

He cleared his mind, emptying himself of emotion and bias; a fight was no place for a clouded mind. The trap was laid, his plans had started into motion already. Nivea wouldn't... no, couldn't relinquish control. Her position was her breeding, her purpose, her entire race... not something that could change hands like a gift. This was the only possible way.

It wasn't the way he wanted, Nivea held his utmost respect, even admiration, but this could not be denied.

He felt her approaching; the air chilled, the still breeze shifted gently. His breath misted before him, crystallizing into the tiniest flecks of ice. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, and he leaned forward, relinquishing his grasp from the tree's rugged surface.

He shifted to the middle of the path as he fell; not a power drawn from magic, but one drawn from the sheer will and determination of his mind. His cloudy form slowly regained a more solid shape, and he pulled a long, slender blade from his back, letting it hang loosely in his right hand.

She was there... a radiant white, a stark contrast against the sparse evergreen background. Her escort came to a halt, immediately forming up around her and drawing their weapons. Four ice wraiths, her finest. He had trained alongside them for a time, an abnormal honor for one from his race, but an honor no longer.

There was no surprise in her delicate face, merely a sad understanding. He twisted his face into a hateful sneer, her perception and intelligence were legendary, but he desired no empathy, no sympathy, no comprehension. No words needed to be spoken here.

He let out a ragged scream of intense purpose, and shifted into the midst of them, swinging his delicate blade with inhuman speed and precision. Shadowy figures fell from the trees, and rushed in towards the circle of defenders.

The air froze, and the detritus covered floor turned to a slick, icy surface as the four powerful ice wraiths put up their defensive wards. Cold steel upon even colder steel sang out a perfectly choreographed melody as the shadows danced with the frozen warriors. A snap in the tune, a hissing cry, the defenders fell one after another.

He pressed against her, his swift flurries of blows combined with a constant shifting left Nivea breathless on the defensive. She used her hands to defend herself, carefully picking the slender blade out of the air, pushing it gently out of harm's way each time. Her eyes were closed, frowning in intense concentration, anticipating the angle he would come from next.

The last of the ice wraiths fell under the swords of the shadowy band, and brought their attention to Nivea herself. She stepped back, and he relinquished his onslaught. She was cornered.

"I wish that I could dissuade you, Umbra", her smooth, soft voice drifted gently through the sharp, cold air, lilting with distress.

His harsh laugh cracked across the scene, and he swung his sword in a powerful arc. Her white dress folded around the sweeping stroke, leaving behind a flurry of snowflakes. They settled to the ground for a moment, and then drifted slowly off into the sky, pulled along on an invisible breeze.

He threw his head back towards the sky, "This is my declaration Nivea! Heed it!"

He then slipped back into the stormy ocean of emotion and vengeance that swelled in his mind, searching for the advice and guidance that would lead him to his purpose.