Creative Corner

@Cerastes Thanks! Haha I love Ilaria too :D She can be a jerk, but she's a caring jerk :)

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Tauriel jerked as she felt something brush against her wing. She whirled around, her claws at ready. "Sorry," a passing Imperial, who was apparently the culprit, apologised. She was easily dwarfed in his shadow, and the feeling of being so much smaller than another dragon made her uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she gave him a small smile as acceptance, and they parted, swept away by the crowd.

Tauriel still wasn't used to being in contact with other dragons. She still remembered her first time meeting new dragons at the Auction House. She'd been so frightened by it all that she'd panicked and ran, and it had taken at least an hour for Onawa to find her, cowering by the side of a stall.

She looked around, taking in her surroundings, careful to keep behind Onawa. She found the Marketplace infinitely more cheerful than the Auction House though they were located a mere island away. Banners hung from the stalls and shops, denoting what they were selling. Traders were advertising their wares, hollering and waving at the crowd cheerfully. Laughter and music filled the air, as fluffy clouds sailed across the blue sky above them. Tauriel found herself smiling, the merry atmosphere infecting her.

She quickened her pace to keep up with Onawa and Ilaria who seemed to be conversing with each other, which was a little confusing as it appeared that Onawa was talking to herself. Tauriel knew that Ilaria was replying in Onawa's mind, though. It was a little frustrating as it was difficult to make sense of the seemingly one-sided conversation.

"What are you two talking about?" Tauriel interrupted.

Ilaria frowned at her. It's rude to just cut straight into a conversation, you know. Really, Onawa, I thought you taught her better than that!

Onawa scowled. "I was a little busy trying to keep us alive. Manners were definitely the last thing on my mind."

She stopped for a second to inspect the wares of the stall next to them. The owner quickly rushed to her side, eager to help a potential customer. To his disappointment, Onawa shook her head and moved on. Turning her head to glance at him, Tauriel had to stifle a laugh when she saw his face drop, before he shuffled back behind his stall sadly. She turned back around, chuckling.

Anyways, I was just asking why Onawa never mentioned this Marketplace before. It's downright more cheery than the Auction House. Why don't we come here instead when we have to get supplies?

"It's mostly because stock runs out fast in the Marketplace. And I mean really fast. The people who run the Marketplace are very picky when it comes to allowing traders to open shops here. On top of that, there's a set price for the items sold here, which discourages sellers. In the Auction House, anyone can sell stuff, and the price is decided by you. So yes, there's perks and cons to each."

"At least there's no slave market here," Tauriel commented. "And that's good enough for me."

Onawa nodded. "The owners abolish slavery, which is why you won't see any of it here. Slave traders aren't allowed within more than a few tails' length." She paused for a second. "Well, the tails' length would depend on the dragon breed and all... but you get what I mean."

Onawa smiled, as a look of surprise appeared on Tauriel's face. "You're — we're — not the only ones who don't like slavery, just so you know."

As they entered a new section, their ears were assaulted with a variety of sounds: barking, mewling, chirping, hissing. Tauriel recoiled slightly. "They do sell live animals here, though," She commented, as they passed a stall filled with Janustraps twined around the poles of the stall, with a small notice noting the price for one. She growled, her bad experience with them still fresh in her mind. The Janustraps didn't seem to mind, instead just continuing their trek up the sides of the stall.

Tauriel frowned, confused. The Janustraps seemed amicable. They didn't bother any passer-bys, and when a dragon came to check them out, the live plants simply tilted their purple head inquisitively at the newcomer, before returning to their own business. "They're almost... peaceful," Tauriel noted. "What's the difference between them and the ones we encountered on the Path?"

"This... might be a little confusing. I know that I told you that the animals in the Coliseum are Shade-touched, and that's true, but their size isn't actually due to that. They're... mutations. I don't fully understand it myself, but somehow, when the Arcanist unleashed the Shade, he also released a wave of magic that transformed many of the animals in the land.

"The benevolent ones are called familiars. Most dragons, when fighting in the Coliseum, come across these, although they're sadly harder to find than their Shade-touched friends, which are the ones we fight. So far no one has found a way to turn a Shade-touched animal or dragon back to their original selves, which is why we have no choice but to kill them."

Onawa paused. "For the record, the Auction House sells them too, you've just never seen them because I never go through that part of the AH." At Tauriel's questioning look, Onawa added, "Auction House, I mean. Sometimes us dragons shorten it like that."

Tauriel frowned. "Is it actually easier or faster saying it that way?"

Onawa thought about it. "Huh, I guess not. Still, I should probably teach you dragon slang one day."

She cleared her throat. "Anyways, back to the familiar thing. Yes, they're sold here, but there're quite a few rules in place preventing any kind of torture or mistreatment of these animals. Again, discouragement for the sellers."

"Is it that hard to just do some good in this world?" Tauriel wondered.

"Convenience. That's what they'll tell you."



"Hakan!" Onawa called out, as they entered the dark smithy. Spears and swords were gathered in barrels littered around the room. The only source of light was the hot glowing coals of the forge.

Tauriel squinted, her eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. Next to her, on Onawa's back, Ilaria grimaced. This is certainly not a place for a Water creature! She complained. Onawa ignored her, turning her attention to a dark red Guardian who'd appeared from behind a wall.

His scales were a dark shade of rust and grew to a pure red at his wings. His eyes were a bright orange, denoting him as of the Fire flight. A white scar ran down his face from his bottom left eyelid all the way to his jawline. He seemed to be the only one who wasn't affected by the sweltering heat.

"Onawa," he rumbled. "It's good to see you alive and whole. I'm sorry about your clan." Unlike Malthinae, he seemed genuinely sympathetic, even a little sad.

Onawa accepted his condolences with a small smile and a nod. "I appreciate hearing that. You don't seem surprised to see me, though."

He shook his head. "Rumours about your clan have been spreading like wildfire. Some say that the Fallen completely decimated all the members. Some say they've been kept prisoner and are being tortured for some sort of secret information. Most ridiculous of them all would be the one claiming that Kilandri somehow summoned the Tidelord himself to aid the clan."

Well, that's partially true, Tauriel thought, glancing at Ilaria before turning back to Hakan.

"I see that at least one of them is true." He glanced at Onawa, before surveying the rest of them. "I gather you've found some companions? That's good. You'll need them."

He blinked, before shaking his head a little. "But that's enough of my rambling. What do you need?"

"Tauriel here," Onawa inclined her head to her, "needs a sword, or some sort of weapon, and unfortunately, Aurelia's stores didn't have any."

He nodded, looking at Tauriel from up to down. She shifted, feeling uncomfortable under Hakan's golden gaze. "Hmm, a Fae. That'll certainly make it much more difficult. Your kind usually stick to pure magic, although I presume that circumstances have not allowed you to develop your magical skills like usual." He's observant, Tauriel noted.

He shuffled over to a nearby box, rummaging through the contents. "Hmm... no. No. Not this. None of it." He then moved on to the barrel next to it.

What felt like forever passed with Hakan looking through his wares and shaking his head at each of them. Tauriel's wings itched, eager to be back out in the sunlight instead of this dark room.

Something flashed in the corner of her eye. Turning her head towards it, her gaze fell on a gleaming hilt, hidden behind other weapons in a tiny, egg-sized barrel. She weaved her way through the barrels, before reaching it and pulling the sword out.

The hilt was a brilliant white, bands of gold running diagonally across it. Tendrils of pale gold delicately wrapped themselves around it, making its way up from the base of the hilt. The sword's scabbard matched the sword's design perfectly, a beautiful filigree of gleaming white and gold. When she unsheathed the sword — no, rapier, she corrected herself — it revealed a thin, shining silver blade. She swung it around, testing it. The rapier felt just like an extension of her arm, and it was perfectly built for a Fae.

She turned to Hakan and Onawa. "Maybe this one?" She asked, lifting the sword.

Hakan frowned. "Ah, that sword. Its design is very popular — mostly by females, for its gracefulness and pleasing aesthetic. That rapier — the one your holding — was originally made for another client, but I was a little careless when making it. The quality is not quite up to standard as the ones I usually make, so she refused to accept it."

"How much is it?" Onawa asked. She seemed very concerned with the sword, frowning at it concentratedly. Only now did Tauriel began to realise that the beautiful sword could very well be out of their price range. That worried her, and she waited nervously for Hakan's answer.

"Keep it. You don't have to repay me with anything. It's yours." He said gruffly, before turning around and shuffling back to the forge.

Tauriel was taken aback. "Are... are you sure?" Both Onawa and Ilaria shot her an incredulous look as if saying, he's giving it to you for free, and you want to question his choices? Be grateful and take the sword! Tauriel chose to ignore them.

"'Course. Now go, I have work to do." He began clanging away at what appeared to be a lump of metal, easily drowning out any speech that might be attempted.

"Thank you, Hakan. Your gift is very much appreciated." Onawa said, giving Tauriel a look that said take it and go for Lightweaver's sake! Tauriel hesitated, before strapping on the sword and following Onawa out.

At the doorway, she paused, before turning to face Hakan, who was still hammering away at the shape of metal. "Thank you!" Tauriel shouted above the noise.

Hakan stopped his hammering, but didn't turn to face her."Really, I owe you," Tauriel continued. "If you need anything, just call. I'll help as much as I can."

The Guardian gave her a silent nod, before returning to his forge. Tauriel stood there dumbly for a second, wondering what she should do next, before mentally smacking herself and slipping out of the door.



"Really, I thought I taught you better than that." Onawa waggled a talon at Tauriel as she stepped out of the smithy, squinting in the bright sunlight. "Don't turn down free gifts! Just take it and appreciate it."

Tauriel shrugged. They continued on their way down the bustling streets. Onawa seemed to be in a cheerful mood, and Tauriel wondered why. "What's gotten you into such a good mood?" She asked.

Onawa thought about it for a second, before shrugging. "Someone showed us a little kindness, and I'm happy about it. Is that such a crime?"

Tauriel thought for a moment. A smile grew on her face. "No. No, I guess it isn't."

Onawa grinned at her. "See, you — " She broke off, the smile slipping off her face as she stared at something ahead.

"What is it?" Tauriel asked, turning to follow her gaze.

Parting the crowd up ahead was a trio of dragons, out of place with their dark cloaks which seemed to drain the area around them of light. Other dragons avoided them, giving them uneasy, some even fearful looks. The trio didn't pay any attention to them, though. Their eyes, glowing from beneath the dark hoods that shaded their faces, were trained on Onawa and Tauriel. The biggest of them, the Mirror in the middle, slowly bared his teeth in a snarl.

"The Fallen," Onawa whispered. Tauriel thought she saw a hint of fear in her eyes. "They're here."

---

Next: Part 7: The Marketplace (Part II)

@Istoki @Tempestuous @Cerastes @Crystalcave

I'm getting more and more unoriginal with my chapter names :P Part 6: The Marketplace
Also, a question, do you guys think my writing's getting worse? I don't know, I feel like it's sort of going downhill, but it could be because this chapter isn't particularly action or emotionally filled.
Also, if you see anything wrong (grammar, spelling, inconsistencies in the story) please tell me! Especially inconsistencies, which is something I really need to work on. Applies to all chapters, the ones that I have posted and the ones which are yet to come.

@Aravis
Honestly, I love this chapter. The cliffhanger really adds to the tension and I just love it. I wouldn't change anything! :)

@Aravis

There's an inconsistency in Hakan's dialogue where he ends up complaining about a client who didn't pay for his services. It seemed quite out of place given the rest of what we know about him. You can ditch the complaining bit and the rest of it still works.

Otherwise, this is fine for a slower paced chapter. You need gaps where they're not constantly fighting for their lives. It's something the story was going to need from the outset. Your writing isn't suddenly going on a nosedive just because you're putting in the de-tension elements where they fit best. Have a little more faith in yourself.

@Crystalcave Thanks! :D
@Istoki Hmm, yeah, true. I'll go delete that part. And thanks, I'm really trying to :) I'm asking mostly because I like having feedback on my writing, so I know what to correct, where I'm going wrong, etc, and unfortunately I can't trust my RL friends to give critique because they're too nice :P And they don't play FR.

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Durza pulled on his chains, straining to reach the door. He ignored the pain that shot up his arms and legs, as the chains cut into his flesh. The chains refused to break, and he stopped to rest for a second. Frustrated, he tried to growl, but his jaws were clamped shut with leather straps. He threw himself towards the metal bars once more, only to fall as the chains restrained his movement.

"Stop that!" The guard stationed outside his cell snapped. Durza glared at him, a murderous look in his bright blue eyes, and the guard took a step back. Durza smelt the air. Fear. He savoured the sensation.

He struggled to stand but lost his balance as the room jerked. Durza suspected that they — his captors — were moving him, though where and why, he didn't know. He tried desperately to remember what had happened.

They'd dragged him out of the room, the one with the cold stone floor... then he'd woken up in this place. Durza shook his head, frowning. That was all that he could remember. But that didn't matter to him at the moment. Escape was what he was focused on.

Outside, he heard some noise, and crouched, prepared to attack at any moment. When he saw that it was simply another guard, he relaxed a little but kept his eyes trained on him.

"The sedative has worn off. What should we do?" His original guard asked. He seemed worried.

The newcomer was silent for a few moments. "I'll tell Daethr about it. In the meantime, keep an eye on him." He glanced at Durza. "He's a strong one, for sure. The sedative should've lasted the whole trip. It does on most dragons."

The guard then left, leaving Durza's guard to watch over him. "Waste of time," Durza's guard muttered. "Spending my days here watching over the dragons, hearing them whine all the time... pah! After this one, I'm done here." He continued muttering to himself, pacing up and down the room.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Durza sat up and surveyed his surroundings. The only source of light was a small window next to the guard, leaving the rest of the room in darkness. He touched the walls, feeling the material. It was coarse and hard... Wood! Durza remembered one of his captors mention.

Wood... The material was familiar. He had touched it just a while ago, right before he was captured. Found underneath a tree in the Lightning territory, he'd heard one of his captors say. He tried to piece it together. Wood... must come from trees. They feel the same. And trees...

...are breakable.

He shot up in triumph, before sitting back down hurriedly. Thankfully, his guard hadn't noticed, still ranting away at the air.

Durza padded over to where his chains met the wall. He inspected the area around the joint. Wood. He inwardly smiled.

Now he had an escape plan.



"Hello, Durza." A voice greeted him. Durza paused for a moment, before slowly turning around.

A male Ridgeback towered over him. He was at least twice Durza's size, to his annoyance. When he spoke, his voice was as smooth as silk, both calm and soothing. "How are you?"

Durza was not fooled by his calm and gentle words. This was the alpha dragon; that he knew by the air of authority around him. That meant that he was the reason Durza was imprisoned, trapped in this hellhole.

Durza felt like ripping his throat out, but he forced himself to stay where he was. It wasn't the time to act. Not yet, anyways.

Durza tried to talk, only to find his jaws restrained by the leather straps. "Oh, of course." Daethr gestured over a guard. "Take off the muzzle; it won't be necessary."

The guard approached him cautiously, having obviously heard of Durza's insolence. Durza glared at him but allowed him to remove the leather straps. The guard immediately backed away right after.

"Name," Durza rumbled awkwardly. He didn't know many words of Draconian, having been found as a lone hatchling, but he'd managed to pick up a few words here and there. "You," he added, jabbing a claw at the Ridgeback's chest. The guards outside the cell lurched forward to intercept Durza, before jerking to a stop and returning to their original positions, obviously embarrassed.

"I," the Ridgeback paused as if considering whether or not to tell Durza, "am Daethr." Daethr. Durza's guard had mentioned his name, which only confirmed Durza's assumptions of Daethr's rank.

Durza surveyed the guards behind Daethr, and beyond them, a door. His escape. Only at this point did Durza realise that they'd stopped moving, which he assumed was good.

His guard, a Wildclaw, was there, along with another two that must have followed Daethr's arrival. Between the two of them, Durza was more worried about the Imperial than the Coatl, though both were larger than him. It would certainly be a tough fight, though, with all of his opponents outsizing him.

He also noticed that the room had stopped moving. Outside, he could hear noises, of other dragons, of animals. He yearned to join him, to be free of this dark, awful room, away from Daethr and his dragons.

"So, Durza, I've heard from my guards that you have been causing a few... problems." Durza snorted. All he'd done was intimidate his guard... and bite off the hands of another two when they'd came too close to his cell. "It would be very helpful if you would simply cooperate with us. It would save the both of us a bit of... trouble, if you did." There was an underlying threat in his words, which Durza didn't like.

Durza fixed Daethr with a bright blue glare. He could feel the anger coursing through his blood, feel the adrenaline and fury spreading across his body. "You," he growled at Daethr, "all you, bad dragon. Durza no obey. Durza... Durza kill you."

Daethr's face hardened into a cold, unforgiving mask. Durza didn't care, flashing him a savage smile. Daethr opened his mouth to say something, no doubt giving the order for some form of punishment, but a loud shout from the outside interrupted him. He and his guards turned, distracted for a fleeting moment.

And Durza attacked.

The chains ripped off the wood easily, mostly due to the circles carved deep into the wall around them. He plowed straight into Daethr, his restrained strength causing them both to fall over. The guards scrambled to help their leader, but Durza drove them back, slashing a claw at them and snarling.

Within a few seconds, he knew that fight was not possible. He was outnumbered one to four, two of his opponents were twice his size, and he was weak from lack of food and muscle usage.

Before he could consider his options further, he was forced to fight off a blow from the Wildclaw. He howled in pain as the Coatl raked his claws on his hide. "Get him!" Durza heard Daethr shout above the fighting. The Imperial obeyed the order and charged Durza, barrelling straight into him and sending them crashing through the wooden door.



"Hey you!" A large Imperial, dressed in a dark blue uniform with a golden badge pinned to his collar, shouldered his way through the crowd. A group of similarly dressed dragons were right behind him. "You're not supposed to be here," the Imperial growled at the trio of dark dragons.

Even from metres away, Tauriel could hear the leader, who appeared to be the Mirror in the middle. His voice was like the sound of metal scraping against stone, and it sent a shudder down her spine. "Stay out of it, guard, and I might let you and your friends live," the Mirror hissed. The two dragons next to him, also Mirrors, bared their teeth at the Imperial as a warning.

The Imperial seemed hesitant, but he gathered his courage and steeled himself. He drew himself up to his full height, which was twice of the Mirror's and his companions. "I've protected this Marketplace from the likes of you for centuries, and I certainly won't be backing down anytime soon," he rumbled, glowering down at them.

Centuries? Tauriel wondered. She'd heard from Onawa that Imperials had very unpredictable lifespans. She found it amazing that this Imperial had survived for so long.

"Very well then," the Mirror growled. Before he attacked, though, he turned to Onawa and Tauriel. Tauriel shuddered under his crimson gaze, so much like hers yet so different too. "Don't think I've forgotten about you. If you run, rest assured I'll track you down easily enough, and the pain you'll suffer will be double what was ordered." He turned back to the Imperial, and they both crouched, prepared to fight.

"We have to help!" Tauriel whispered to Onawa, who shook her head. "We can't!" She hissed back. "What we have to is - "

CRASH!

The sound of splintering wood made everyone jump and turn their head to the noise. An Imperial and Mirror rolled out of the caravan next to them, snarling and biting at each other. A Coatl and Wildclaw jumped out from the broken door and joined the fray. Momentarily surprised, all three sides — the Fallen, the guards, Onawa, Tauriel, and Ilaria — simply stopped what they were doing and watched as the group of newcomers tussled with each other.

Then someone in the crowd shouted, "Slave traders!"

Simultaneously, another shriek went up."The Fallen! They're here!"

And pandemonium erupted.

The crowd around them scattered, screaming in panic. "Tauriel!" Onawa yelled over the din, frantically searching for the white and green Fae who could easily be trampled by the mob. Ilaria, on Onawa's back, struggled to hold on as dragons shoved Onawa on either side.

"I'm here!" A voice called out. Onawa looked around, sighing in relief as she spotted Tauriel fluttering above the crowd before swooping down to join her.

"We have to stop the slave traders!" Tauriel cried. "That's obviously one of their victims! I don't care what you do, I'm helping!" Before Onawa could stop her, she'd already flown away in the direction of the brawl.

Onawa knew she couldn't abandon Tauriel just like that, so, muttering obscenities under her breath, she followed after her.

The guards and the Fallen had recovered and were at each other's throats. The crowd blocked her view, with only little spaces to watch snippets of the fighting.

Reaching the nearest dragon, who was busy trying to claw the male Mirror's face, Onawa pounced on his back, digging her claws in between the chinks in his armour. The Coatl reared back with a yowl, and Onawa struggled to hold on. Out of nowhere, Tauriel shot out of the sky, stabbing at the Coatl's face with her new blade and blinding him in one of his eyes. Onawa leaped off his back and landed in front of him, before finishing him off, bringing both claws down on his head hard. The Coatl crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Looking around, Onawa saw that the Mirror - bright blue with purple wings and white scars across his hide - had taken out the Wildclaw, and was fighting with the large Imperial. The Mirror was obviously weakened, though, and his blows were slowing down.

Onawa could hear Ilaria, on her back, muttering, before sending a large ball of glowing water flying through the air towards the Imperial. The ball hit him with the force of a hurricane, sending him crashing into the caravan. He sat up, dazed, before falling back to the ground with a huge THUMP.

"Hurry!" Onawa shouted to the Mirror. He looked to be barely older than a hatchling, but Onawa could sense that he was strong, perhaps even stronger than most older dragons. "We have to go, before they recover!" The Coatl was already regaining his senses, and from the wreckage of the caravan popped up the head of a Ridgeback, a very angry Ridgeback. Not to mention the three Fallen dragons who were still fighting with the Marketplace guards. "We can use the crowd to our advantage."

The Mirror looked suspicious but followed them as they fled, blending into the mass of panicked dragons.



"Please... please, don't," the Wildclaw begged, tears streaming down his cheeks. Freohr paid no attention to the dragon's desperate pleading, instead turning to the dragon behind him, a dark Nocturne. "You have disposed of the Fae?" He asked, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion."

"They're doing it now as we speak, sir," the Nocturne replied, nodding in the direction of a cell a few doors away, where a dragon was carrying a limp, pink and purple body out. Freohr nodded, before turning back to the Wildclaw. Pathetic, he thought, disgusted by the snivelling dragon.

"You disrupted Andask's hunt," he noted.

"Not just me!" The Wildclaw howled. "The others - "

"Are in my custody. They will be dealt with later." Freohr's disgust only increased as the Wildclaw continued to sob. "Andask would've torn you from piece to piece if he were here. Unfortunately, he is recovering in the infirmary from the wounds of his battle with the Marketplace guards." Foolish Mirror. The orders were to draw as little attention as possible and capture Onawa, and he failed at both.Freohr decided that he would have to pay Andask a visit as soon as he recovered. "You are lucky to have me instead - or not so lucky."

He turned to the Nocturne. "Make sure he receives the worst," Freohr instructed, before continuing on his way down the corridor. The Nocturne bared his teeth in a vicious smile, pulling out his tools.

As Freohr reached the end of the corridor, the cells reverberated with the Wildclaw's screaming. He shut the door behind him, cutting off any noise beyond it, before turning to face the room.

"Now, what do you want?" He asked the Ridgeback before him. "Daethr, yes? I've heard about you and your slave trading business. You have the money, the soldiers. None of that will help you now, unless you give me a very good reason not to kill you for letting that infuriating Mirror Onawa get away."

Daethr's electric blue eyes glared out from the shadows along with the bright circuit pattern that streaked across his hide. "I have no love for her either. She aided in the escape of one of my dragons, and she will pay for it." He hissed. Freohr could sense the fury radiating from the dragon. Has he really never lost a single slave before? Freohr wondered.

"Like what you said — I have treasure, I have gems, I have men who follow me. I also have connections, all across Sornieth. You looking for someone? Give me a few days and I'll find that dragon for you. With my help, you could find that Mirror without having to lift a claw."

Freohr knew that Daethr was saying this mostly to save his own skin, but there was a grain of truth behind his words; the most successful of slave traders always had associates, and as far as he knew, Daethr had been running his business for years.

"Fine. I'll let you go, on one condition: you will listen to no one but me, from here on out. You will bring me Onawa by the end of the week, or you'll be next on my death list." Daethr nodded. "Her head will be delivered to you, I swear."

"No! I want her alive and intact. If you kill her, I'll kill you as well." Daethr gulped, before nodding furiously. "Good." Freohr turned to the guard in the corner. "Take him outside." The guard nodded, throwing a burlap sack over Daethr's head — immediately followed by a squawk of protest from the Ridgeback — before steering him out of the room.

Freohr turned to the lone remaining guard who was silently awaiting his orders. "Light, now." The guard shuffled out of the room, before returning with a lantern, which lit up the room with a golden glow. Satisfied, Freohr turned to face the map that was spread out on the wall before him. The entire of Sornieth was displayed on this map, with little blacked out marks denoting places and clans the Fallen had conquered, and red crosses indicating where they'd searched for Onawa and her allies so far. He was confident that by the end of this week, those red crosses would no longer be necessary.

"I will find you, Onawa, and I will not rest until you are in my claws. That I swear."

---

Next: Part 8: Thoughts

@Istoki @Tempestuous @Cerastes @Crystalcave

Part 7: The Marketplace (Part II) I... got a little lazy coming up with titles :P Again, feedback and critique is welcome!

@Aravis
SO COOL!