Nightshade (BBC 500 Words Competition Entry)

No one noticed as she entered the building, a mere shadow slipping over the windowsill. Her cloak a shroud of darkness, her feet silent as the dead whom she knew so well. She left not a single mark on the polished wooden floors and expensive woollen carpet. Not that she need worry: the master of the house was long asleep and not even the servants were awake at this hour. The halls were lit by the pale moonlight. She had memorised every hallway and corridor, so it took no time for her to find the door leading to the indoor gardens. She slipped through and into the warm room.

It seemed so odd to find a place so exotic in the Wolfspine Mountains. There were at least a hundred trees in the room, clawing their way to the ceiling, only to be blocked by a pane of glass. She crept past them, stopping by the pond in the centre of the room. A man stood by it, cloaked in shadows and with eyes like diamonds. A smile tainted his thin lips.

"You took your time, Farwyn," he said.

"Always the pleasantries," she replied coyly, returning the smile. "Ready?"

Any sane person would have run at the hungry look in Daedryn's eyes, but Farwyn no longer considered herself sane, and she was well used to it by now. She simply returned the look and led him out into the corridors.

Guided by the map burned into her mind, Farwyn led Daedryn towards the master bedroom. The hallways were silent, as expected: Daedryn had already taken care of that. She pressed an ear to the door, listening carefully. All she heard was the soft breath of sleep. The door opened with a quiet click as she entered the dark room.

It was surprisingly plain in comparison to the rest of the mansion. The large bed was occupied by two inert figures. A desk sat near the bed, covered in mountains of parchment. Silently, she crept towards the desk and began to file through the loose pages. Nothing! She thought bitterly as she leafed through them. They were all receipts or staff notices, nothing of interest or indication as to why someone would want this man and his wife dead so much. Nothing, except for a hastily scrawled note at the very base of a pile. She scanned through it quickly, her eyes wide, before handing it to Daedryn. The lord and lady didn't stir as she approached the bed, unsheathing her dagger as she did so. She pressed it to the man's neck and his eyes shot open at the touch of the cool metal. There was a silent cry on his lips as Farwyn slit his throat. She did the same to his wife, who slept there peacefully. Farwyn wiped the blade on the bedsheets, eager to get out of the house.

They left unseen, the only mark of their passing being the symbol painted on a wall in blood.