Rewrite #1: The Price

The Price

A snapshot, Rewrite #1

The Original

What leads a person down the path of evil? Perhaps, it starts with something small and spirals further and further away from the path of morality. Sometimes, the bad guys start out as good. Keep this in mind before you condemn this character into the bowels of hell. I know it's hard. Let me know what you think and if you've read them both, which version you like better. 


Related Pieces: Appearances 

The moon was a pale shard casting chilly light upon the dark roof tiles of the port city's wealthy homes. Cloaked in the shadow cast by a taller building, a dark robed woman crouched upon the tiles. The biting breeze could not stir the hood from her face but beneath the thin cloth her jaw tightened.

 Her stomach rumbled, disturbing the silence and at the sound she slipped her fingers into a pouch at her waist. The smooth skin of an apple, too fresh for the season, met her palm. Her fingers curled around the cool fruit and pulled it out before bringing it to her chapped lips. Sharp teeth tore into the red gloss of the skin and sank into the white flesh beneath.

She had not even managed to swallow the first bite when the archer patrolling the rooftop turned and gave her a clear path to the window she needed to reach. The apple hit the roof where she'd been standing only a few heartbeats before her feet made silent contact with the polished floor inside the room. The man on the roof turned at the sound but saw only the curtains wafting in the breeze from the open window.

Behind her, the window latch lay in glittering pieces against dark floorboards. Nothing else in the room was reached by the weak moonlight streaming through the open window. Mindful of the eyes outside of the room, the woman crept slowly towards the dark shape of the bed and away from the indifferent gaze of the constellations in the heavens.

Under the safety of darkness, she leapt with ease to perch herself upon one of the carved bed-posts and watched the boy nestled among the velvet covers and embroidered silk pillows. She didn't need to see them  with her eyes to know what they were; the echoes of history that clung to the objects told her more than her eyes ever could. It was with this same perception that she slowly began to see the glowing thread that tethered the boy's soul to his flesh while he slept. As the minutes lapsed by unnoticed, the spider-web thread grew into a thick chord.

A grin stretched over her pale skin as she slipped her blade from its sheath and in the next motion severed the cord. As it gave way before the enchanted steel, its power flowed down the cutting edge and into the hilt. From the hilt, it pushed into her hand before shooting exhilaratingly through her veins. Her heart sped with wicked joy and drowned out the thoughts of the soul spiraling away into the unknown.

Fleet as a shadow, and just as ephemeral, she slipped out the window and into the streets below. Cobblestones were an unfelt blur beneath her feet and guards turned too slow to catch sight of anything but the leaves her motion had stirred into the air. She passed through the gates, as a phantom would, and vanished into the dark woods beyond.

In the house she'd fled, the merchant slept. His new bride slept by his side cradling the belly that held her unborn child. In another room, there was a corpse and in the morning the new bride would hide her joy at the news with feigned horror. Later, she would send a tragic letter to her sister in a far off town with the aid of the mage that the merchant employed. By the time the assassin arrived at the Nightmare Tavern in Welton, her gold would be waiting.

Meanwhile, on a ship due to depart come first tide, another woman slept only to come awake with a silent scream at the act that had been done on the other side of the city. She held her head as tears ran down her face at the horror she knew could not be undone. Still, she could not leave while such a creature fed on the life and greed of others. She jumped from the ship to the dock with full intent on giving chase only to find that she could not find the trail. She looked towards the rich district and began the long walk to her only clue.