Faster, Shadowmere.

The raven mare was galloping through the wastelands of the country with incredible speed; the Dhuilin was a magnificent beast – fast and strong, with unyielding endurance. Shadowmere could ride through any landscape without breaks and even though days and nights had passed since their departure from the coastal town Astera, it still didn’t need a break. It was most definitely the greatest mount she had ever owned and the magical being couldn’t be compared to any normal horse that there was and maybe not even to any of the flying mounts that existed in these parts of the world. Nuala was glad that she had caught this one and she could only hope that the magic it was infused with granted the mare a longer lifespan as well.

Nuala was heading for Marigold City, a smaller town in the southern parts of the country. There was nothing notably significant in Marigold upon first glance, but Nuala had plans to visit an old friend of hers – and to disappear for a few days, just to be sure. She did this every once in a while and even though she had lost track of how many times a situation like this had occurred during her immortal life, the Voidling remembered all of the time spent in Marigold to be a bliss. Life was simpler there, easier and most certainly not as draining compared to what the thief and assassin was used to. If anything, she would consider this a vacation from the usual turbulences of her life.

It was a long ride all the way from Astera, and it took the woman days to arrive. She made a few stops here and there and usually only for a few hours, before she continued her journey. She was lucky that her own endurance was still holding up and that Shadowmere was as fast as the wind. Even the horse seemed grateful for the change of scenery and they were lucky, because the weather was mild throughout the entire length of their travels. Nuala and Shadowmere arrived in Marigold City during the night of the fourth day and both were exhausted in the end after all. The small town was expecting more visitors these days due to the creation of a guild in these lands, but Nuala wasn’t bothered by that. The Voidling dismounted her horse and headed towards an inn/bar that was still open during these late hours. Its name was reminiscent of her homeland and once Nuala walked through the door, her eyes met with those of the owner – a grim-looking, tan-skinned lady in her mid 50s. She was cleaning a bunch of mugs when the Voidling walked in, put placed them down the moment they saw each other.

“Well, look who we have here.”