Creative Practice Day 30

"Tasha. Come home. You don't belong among these mortals."

"If I won't? What then. Will you kill me like the rest of my litter?"

"Don't force my hand. You don't have to fight this. We will take care of you back in the Faewild."

"Will you? Or will you drug me and lull me into a sleep so deep I can almost pretend to be happy?" Tasha recoiled at the Fae warrior approaching her.

"I am giving you a chance, Tasha. I was told to just deal with you, but I am giving you an out. A safe place just out of the eyes of the king. You need not be his puppet anymore."

"I'm not the puppet here. I am living MY life, not his, not yours, and not anyone else's. I'm not going with you. I'd rather you kill me." Domiar paused. There was no sarcasm in Tasha's voice. The crescent sickles he wielded ignited in arcane light.

"I wish it had not come to this, sister."

"I might be of your blood but I am not your kin." In a sweeping action Tasha launched a pot of boiling water at the eldritch knight, searing his face and hands. She turned and fled deeper inside the castle, seeking refuge amidst its labyrinthine chambers. Domiar screeched in pain and rage, and pursued his prey blindly, crashing into suits of armor and tearing paintings off the walls. Servants scrambled to get out of their way, yelping at the sight of the knight racing after one of their own. Domiar did not hear the sound of the guard being called in the courtyard outside, but Tasha did. Up and up they flew, Tasha's options running thinner and thinner as she reached the apex of a secluded spire. She was winded, but so was Domiar.

"You absolute fool," Domiar said between heaving breaths. "You've trapped yourself. I will make you pay for these fresh scars. I was going to kill you painlessly but I have changed my mind. "

"When you see the king, tell him you got your ass handed to you by the runt of the changeling litter, and that he'll never use us again." The trap was sprung. From a shadowed corner sprang a knight of the castle, full shield braced, and slammed into the eldritch knight with the strength of a boar. A woman in glowing armor slammed Domiar out of a stained glass window, sending him reeling in the stormwinds as his dulcimer wings struggled to slow his fall. He would not die, but he would never fight again.