Elwen's haunted eyes stared past him, wide, and into the depths beyond the doorway. His skin was as dark as obsidian, and colder than ice, while his jacket hung loosely from his shoulders, flapping in the wind.
Arven threw his fist over his mouth and reeled away, fighting back the rising bile. With a deep breath, he peered into the darkness beyond the doorway. His blood chilled to the bone as an array of petrified men stared back at him, their faces warped, while bits and pieces of their bodies appeared missing.
'Gods above! It was a massacre!' Arven thought. Cursing beneath his breath, he took one last look at Elwen, then muttered his apologies, and hurried back to the gangplank.
"Men! Cast off! We need to leave, now," Arven said, leaping across the gangplank. He whirled around, and kicked the board, sending it spiraling into the waves. "I fear there's dark magic on that ship. It took Elwen."
An unnatural silence clung to the air as Arven paused, and lowered his hand to the hilt of his sword. "Who are you?"
"One may consider me a traveler. To others, a plague," The answer was cold, but clear.
Arven turned. A young man stood behind him, his ice blue eyes watching him from beneath a mop of tousled black hair. A black fur cloak hung from his shoulders, matching the dark leather armor he wore, which was adorned by a scaled bear, similar to the ship's figurehead. At his hip, he carried a cracked sword, seemingly made from stone, with an amethyst set in the pommel.
"What do you want?" Arven asked, his gaze flicking across the deck. His crew stood behind the man, unmoving as the wind tore at their loose clothes. The sky cracked with lightning, revealing the men's twisted stone faces.
The man's lips thinned. "I hope you can give me some answers. Where are we? What land is this?"
Arven straightened his back, and stared the man straight in the eye. "The nearest land is Telmuth, in the Ereth desert. We were headed there when we stumbled across your ship. We only boarded to search for survivors."
The stranger scratched his chin. "A noble effort, for which I am grateful. Without you, I might have been stranded here for quite some time. One last question. Have you witnessed a ship possessed by plants recently, steered by a man with amber hair and emerald eyes? He wears a bronze pendant around his neck, bearing the form of a tree."
Arven scowled. "No, I have seen no such man, nor ship of that description."
"I feared as much." The man sighed. "A shame. At least then your death would have had meaning."
Arven flinched as the man flicked his wrist, and a shadow sprung from his cloak, embedding itself in his chest. He blinked, uncertain, and let his head drop to his chest. A shard of black stone embedded itself between his ribs, pulsing with veins of amethyst.
"What- what did you do?" Arven asked. He staggered back, falling against the railing as he grasped at the stone. His fingers slipped off the slick shard, staining his coat with crimson blood.
With his strength waning, Arven fought to keep his senses, but the lull of sleep weighed heavily against him, stronger than any drink ever had. Taking a deep breath, he picked his head up, and glared at the man who stood before him.
"You won't get away with this, warlock," Arven said. He shifted his body with a grunt, and tilted back his head. "By the Halls of Osyras, your sins today will not be forgotten."
Then, as the last of his strength dwindled, and his final breath mixed with the falling snow, Arven caught the man muttering beneath his breath.
"If the gods deem it my fate, then so be it. But I will not rest until I've taken my revenge."