The darkest parts of the night hide things. Man has always feared the dark, fearing monsters and madness, fearing himself, fearing others. But the oldest fear is of the dead, dead that wander the darkness of Forrest or city.

Some like to think that life is stronger than death, that life always finds a way. And it does. But death always finds it, eventually. Even Gods can die. Everything dies. But just because something dies doesn’t mean it doesn’t still exist, still wander about, and exert their will.

Even the sun dies at night, passing through the underworld, to be born again the next day. But the night is sundeath, the sun’s power driven away. Night, Darkness, these things belong to Death.

The mothwing dress fluttered about her as dainty feet danced over dew soaked grass. Music hummed under her breath as she weaved through briar and bramble. Like a ghostly echo, steel rattled on steel, leather creaked as if from far away. The woods were empty as they led up to the city in a sea of sand. Empty of the living, at least. But the trees stood as ghosts in the sand. Dead things, to hide dead things.

Shadows shimmered and rolled, wings and horns fading in and out beside her. Man, monster, existent, not, the form shifted. Her smile was faint, but faint was still real. He was real.

When does not matter. Past, future, present. The city stood for an age. Some ages are long, some are short. The had destroyed the ancient things of an age long ago, and with it they brought destruction upon themselves. Deaths made to a dessert god still brought vultures.

Some vultures fly farther than others.

“You hunger…” she said, her voice silk, but silk over gravel. Stones rattled under her words. “Too long since you have tasted blood…too long since you have pillaged and burned.”

Through the trees the city rose from sand.

“Those who do not respect their past do not deserve to have a future,” she purred, caressing the form beside her. “Those who would destroy our future do not deserve to make it there.”

“Yesssss…” came the faint reply, echoing over and over, drowning out distant leather and soft steel.

“If gods and kings will not do what is needed…if the living will not preserve life,” She whispered, “then death shall see to the survival of all.”

“Now hunt.”