"What do you mean Mythal is dead?"

Her palms pressed hard on the edge of the old oak table. Her brows furrowed. Andruil had been staring at the map for so long, she could almost remember the exact placement of all her troops, the exact number of soldiers in each troop. Actually she could, even this war had been burning for seven hundred and eighty over years. She was weary, sick of it. Yet she still could not see the end of it.

"Ma Raj, I have news on Mythal." Her messenger barged into the tent. Andruil looked up, already having a rancid taste in her mouth when she saw the agitation so evident on his face. "What is it?"

"She's... the beloved Mythal is dead." He lowered his head, couldn't stand staring at her burning glare.

"What do you mean she's dead?" She screamed, with a trembling voice. She was certain she must have heard it wrong.

"T-They lured her into a trap, and they... they killed her." The messenger stuttered, his head still lowered.

"Ghesten!" She hit her fist so hard on the table, all the troop markers bounced off and landed on the ground. The messenger dropped onto his knees, his body shuddering. When Andruil is furious, she would kill someone. And she is burning in rage now.

"What happened to her troops, her people?" She hissed, gritting her teeth.

"Most of them were killed. Slaughtered. But I heard some ran into the adahlen in inorteralas."

Andruil growled and waved him off. The messenger hastily departed, almost stumbled at the exit, too grateful to be alive.

She would never expect things to fall so apart. She could not even remember the reason for the breaking up of the hahrentuathe, for the Evanuris to split into two groups, one led by Elgar'nan and the other by Mythal, and finally for the civil war to start. She only remembered it was something frivolous. But no matter how frivolous a matter is, if left unattended for a long enough time, it will brew into a disaster. In this case, a civil war that lasted too long and killed too many.

She gazed at the map again. Her decision was made. She would lead her troops northwest to meet Dirthamen. She did not forget that Fen'Harel's resistance troops were at her tail. But Mythal's death would not be forgiven. And she needed to kill someone. Lots of someone.

Andruil put on her armor and grabbed her bow and arrows. As she stepped out of her tent, she muttered. "Sul'ama em lanun'ven'ur'alas, Mythal."